Two Households

“Sigh. I knew it was you.” These were the last words uttered before a bullet hit her between the eyes.

Earlier that morning, Julia woke up to the alarm on her phone. She had struggled to get adequate sleep the night before. She never seemed to be comfortable in her bed: the sheets seemed resistant to adjustment, full of creases and crevices—cold when they needed to be warm, and vice versa. With a full stretch, she planted her bare feet on the cool wooden floor and stepped out of her bedroom into the kitchen to make breakfast. These days, it was simple: toast with butter, one egg, and coffee. It was a tradition she had shared with her brother for years. Time seemed irrelevant nowadays. It had been two years since Jason passed. The events were engraved in her memory: the frantic phone call from Jason’s wife, the endless traffic on the highway headed to the hospital, and the constant sounds of his monitor as the decision was made to remove him from life support. Julia couldn’t understand why the doctors couldn’t do more. It wasn’t until months later that she found out a mistake had been made by the primary physician. It would have only taken a few minutes to fix the large pneumothorax in his right lung, but the physician refused to listen to the concerns of the nurses and Jason’s wife. And so, Julia lost her best friend and didn’t get a chance to say a proper goodbye. Jason’s picture was displayed on the side table by the couch. She was determined to keep his memory alive.

After her breakfast, Julia cleaned up and prepared for work. After moving to a different state, she wanted a simpler life. Her savings allowed her to purchase a small house on a large plot of land. It was the perfect rural area. There were no other houses for at least a mile. Beautiful trees lined the east and west sides of the property, providing a scenic display from dusk to dawn. On the west side sat a red barn. When Julia moved onto the property, it was in rough shape. She had no intentions of using it but decided to fix it as a project. The newly renovated barn was statuesque. Compared to her home, it was prominently featured. Every day, she admired its restoration.

Glancing at her watch, she realized she was running late. It was her responsibility to open the grocery store today, but the night’s sleep had derailed her intentions. Excuses, she thought. I hate excuses. Hurriedly, she got dressed and rushed to her car. Suddenly, she stopped. I almost forgot to feed the pigs. Running to the barn, she opened the barn door and lifted a large bag of pig feed over her shoulders. Once she was finished, she ran back to her small car and pulled out of the long driveway. At the stop sign, she turned right, down the long, dark unpaved road, and headed to the store.

The parking lot was largely bare. As she unlocked the door, she stared into the darkness of the small space. Julia headed to the back of the store and turned on the four sets of lights one by one. The store was quaint yet spacious. It served as the only store for a few miles in her town. She appreciated how vastly different it was from her hometown. She did not miss the lights and the noise. It felt pure, with sincere patrons interested in the well-being of themselves and their families. Julia looked at the store clock. The store opened in an hour. She peered outside to see a small black car pulling into the space next to her. She knew it was Abigail. They were hired and interviewed together. Julia felt like they were perfectly matched. While she was mostly reserved, Abigail was an unapologetic extrovert. They often spoke about their hobbies, and Abigail was always interested in Julia’s pigs. Coming from a large city, Abigail felt like “the farm life” was completely foreign to her. She had so many questions. When did you get them? How did you know you wanted to be a “pig farmer”? How do you take care of them? Julia was always very straight with her answers: Last year. Last year. I just do.

The first customer made their way into the store. Abigail and Julia usually worked on restocking items while patrons shopped. “Jules…” She hated being called that. It reminded her too much of her brother. “Do you have plans tonight? A few of us were going to go out for drinks.” Julia was not as carefree as Abigail. She appreciated her quiet abode. At times, Abigail’s insistence felt too invasive. It was beginning to feel intrusive. “I don’t think so. I feel like staying in.” “I wish you would come out just once. How about if it were just you and me? Even just for dinner. I can even help you with your pigs!” Abigail seemed so enthusiastic. Despite her exuberance, Julia politely declined. “Maybe another time?” Abigail’s face seemed downtrodden. “How about…we go out next weekend?” Julia said sweetly, resting a reassuring hand on Abigail’s shoulder. She could feel her shoulders relax as a smile spread across her face. “You know I am definitely going to hold you to that!” They both giggled as they prepared to ring up the first customers.

The shift seemed to be over quicker than expected. After sweeping and returning discarded items to their shelves, Abigail turned out the lights as Julia exited the store. They stood in front of their respective cars, enjoying the fresh air. After a moment, they hugged and entered their separate vehicles. As Julia was about to leave, she glanced at Abigail. It looked like she was taking a serious phone call. Glancing up, Abigail quickly smiled and gave Julia a thumbs-up. As Julia exited the parking lot, she kept Abigail in her mind, hoping she was okay. The drive was peaceful. Julia did not like to drive with the music on. It reminded her too much of the night Jason was in his accident. She was deep in thought. Her plans were simple: feed the pigs, pop some popcorn, and watch a movie. Peaceful.

As she turned into her driveway, she saw a parked car in the distance. There were no streetlights on her street. The car was mostly masked by the darkness. It wasn’t necessarily unusual: people often pulled over to take a phone call or look for directions. Julia parked her car and headed to her home. As she entered, she switched on the front lights and put her keys on the side table. She was relieved to be back in her home. It was familiar, a place to herself. She pulled out her favorite cooking pot and a bag of popcorn kernels. There was something special about freshly popped popcorn. She prepped the ingredients, poured them in the pot, and turned on the burner. As she waited, she remembered she needed to feed the pigs.

As she exited the house, the moonlight glistened across the land. The barn was immense. It seemed to grow the closer she approached. Julia unlatched the door and entered. The barn had an overpowering smell. It had been a while since she had cleaned.

On the right side lay a large bag of pig feed. As she picked it up, she heard a thud under the floorboards. Startled, she dropped the bag, spilling a large amount of the feed onto the ground. She knelt down, frustrated with the mess. “This is ridiculous,” she muttered. Her long blonde hair grazed the floor as she cleaned. After putting it in a ponytail, she took a deep breath and closed her eyes. Find serenity, she thought.

For 30 seconds, she focused on her breathing and thought of her brother—the happy times, the laughter, the hugs. Composing herself, she wiped a single tear from her eyes and lifted the feed over her shoulder. Approaching the large metal door at the bottom of the barn, she placed the bag on the ground and opened the door slowly. A metal staircase loomed in the darkness as she lifted the bag and descended. Julia turned on a small light and approached another wooden door.

Opening the door, Julia frowned. She poured the feed on the ground as a weathered man slowly approached, crawling on his hands and feet. He was blindfolded and caked in dirt. As he ate sloppily from the floor, two more people approached from the shadows in the same condition. Julia knelt down as they ate.

“Who was the piggy that made all of that noise?” she asked in a soft, quiet, monotonous voice. An older man shakily raised his hand. She reached out and touched him tenderly. He flinched. He, too, was blindfolded.

“No food for you tonight,” she whispered. Julia kicked the food out of his reach. As she turned around to leave, the man quietly sobbed.

“Julia, I’m sorry for your brother. Please, don’t let me die,” he whispered.

She stopped and slowly turned around. Walking back to him, she towered over him, a shadow cascading over his unkempt body.

“Piggies…don’t…talk, Dr. Allen.”

Turning on her heel, she ascended the stairs and turned out the light. As she turned to shut the door, she stared into the abyss and shut the door.

“You should have thought of that before you let my brother die,” she thought.

Faintly, the sobs of her pigs echoed in the barn. She placed the bag back by the door and exited the barn. Julia took off her shoes before entering the house. Her popcorn was ready. She poured it into a large bowl and sat on her couch, relieved to end her busy day.

Two hours earlier, Julia and Abigail were saying goodbye to each other at the store. As Abigail entered her car, the phone rang. It was Eric.

“Hey,” she said succinctly.

“Abi, we found them,” he said.

She breathed a sigh of relief. As an undercover detective, it was difficult to work a case that was so personal. It had been a year since her father went missing. Her superiors refused to allow her to take on the case. Instead, she decided to do it herself, with the aid of her colleague Eric.

They had a general idea of the culprit. When Abigail saw Julia approach the store manager for a job application, she knew this was her chance to affirm her suspicions. They applied on the same day, were hired on the same day, and started on the same day. They were perfectly matched: Julia was cold and calculating, while Abigail was exuberant yet determined.

Every morning, Abigail waited for Julia to leave her home. She had rented a house down the road. Abigail parked at the end of the street, out of sight, and watched as Julia went to the barn to feed her pigs. It seemed odd. No matter how many times Abigail inquired about them, Julia was hesitant to let her meet her animals.

This morning, after Julia turned left on the main road, Abigail slowly approached the driveway. She looked up at the massive barn. Inspecting it, she noticed that the latch was not secure. There was no lock. She opened it slowly. The stench was overwhelming. Looking around, she saw bags of pig feed, but no pigs. Suddenly, there was a noise in the cellar. She slowly pulled out her gun and put her ear to the hatch door. She did not hear any squeals or grunts—only whispered voices.

Her heart dropped. Quietly, she left the barn and immediately called Eric. After giving him the address, he agreed to covertly investigate. He would stay at the house to see if anyone else came or left the property. Eric parked near the trees, on the west side of the property.

In the parking lot, Julia looked at Abigail inquisitively. Abigail smiled and gave a thumbs-up to reassure her. As Julia exited the parking lot, Abigail became very serious.

“Eric, she’s on the way. Turn off all of your lights. When she gets there, call me.”

Abigail waited in the parking lot. She was finally going to find the monster who kidnapped her father. She remembered her mother telling her about the awful incident that happened with Jason. Dr. Allen was not the only one who examined Jason, but he was the last one. Dr. Allen became very distraught during the week, constantly blaming himself for Jason’s death. On that Monday, he left for his shift at the hospital and never returned.

Suddenly, she received a text. “She’s home.” Abigail made her way to Julia’s house. What was Julia going to say before pulling the trigger? Abigail didn’t care. She knew there were no words to express her anguish.

Approaching Julia’s street, she parked behind Eric’s car. She opened her door, pulled out a gun from underneath the passenger seat, and stuck it behind her. As she walked past Eric’s car, they made eye contact. His face was solemn.

Eric knew this would result in an arrest for both of them. It was strangely poetic: two people, plagued by grief, projecting their torment onto the person they held responsible.

As Abigail quietly approached the driveway, Eric called the police, just as they rehearsed. They did not plan to run or create excuses. They just wanted the hostages rescued.

Abigail slowly approached the house. The curtains were drawn, and the television was on. Occasionally, she could hear Julia laughing. Stepping onto the porch, she could smell popcorn. With a light knock on the door, she pulled out her gun and held it behind her back.

Inside, Julia stood up inquisitively. She looked through her peephole and rolled her eyes. It was Abigail, mustering up a fake smile. In the distance, she could hear a police siren. Julia opened the door.

“Sigh. I knew it was you,” she muttered.

Abigail pulled out her gun.