I'm not what you would call a particularly smart individual. I generally like to think it's my ADHD that caused me to perform so poorly in school, but I haven't exactly been diagnosed with it or anything. My dad is about as much of a dumb ass as me, but he did a good enough job for being a single parent and all.

Mom was a proud member of the pill-popping mothers of America, so she wasn't in the picture for long after I came around. Last I heard, she's up north somewhere, supposedly 'working on herself', or something. As far as I can tell, she's been working on herself since long before I had no reason to yell 'mama' into the night. No sense dwelling on all of that, though.

So, yeah, I haven't spent much time in doctors' offices over the years, as my dad didn't always have the time, insurance, or money to take me to get checked out. Hell, he won't go to the hospital himself, if he can help it. I remember one time he came home from the garage with two fingers on his left hand taped together, with a bent welding rod on each side to keep them in place.

From what he said, the beat-up, old cherry picker gave out while they were trying to install a new motor in a lifted pickup truck. Dumb ass reached out to catch it when the chain slipped, snapping back his pinky and ring finger while the motor dropped to the ground. Supposedly, it damn near crushed his foot too; likely would've if he hadn't been dancing around, cussing up a storm at the time.

He claimed the emergency room likely wouldn't be able to do much, other than charge him ten grand to hook him up with a more professional-looking splint, so he just took care of it himself. He was probably right, truth be told. Either way, after wearing that tape and welding rods for two months or so, his stubborn ass claimed his hand was back to normal like I couldn't hear that clicking sound his pinky made afterward. Still does it to this day, too.

Anywho, short story long; we don't really do doctors unless it's absolutely necessary. So when my mind would drift something awful in just about every class, outside of shop and art, for one reason or another, I looked some stuff up online and assumed I had attention deficit disorder. It did account for my mind's tendency to wander and all.

It didn't help matters that most of my teachers were boring as shit! I mean, if it isn't bad enough that for some reason, some asshole, years ago, decided it would be a good idea to throw letters into mathematical equations, my algebra teacher had to be pushing ninety, droning on in the most unenthused voice imaginable, while expecting his students to pay attention. I bet I counted every damn hole in that drop ceiling over the three years I spent repeating that damn class.

Where was I? Oh yeah, the night I almost got myself killed. So, this was after high school, when I was working with my dad at the garage. He's pretty tight with the owner since they went to school together too. I may not be the sharpest harpoon in the boat, but I'm pretty good with cars, just like my old man.

Honestly, I like working with him. I got my own place now, so I probably wouldn't see him as much if it wasn't for that, plus the job pays pretty well, especially for a guy who took an extra couple of years to graduate high school. Sure, we fight like rabid cats sometimes, but a lot of the guys' butt heads at the shop. Maybe it's just the nature of that kind of work. It could be that we're just a bunch of dysfunctional assholes too, but we're all cool by the end of the day.

So, me and Dwayne; an older guy who had worked there since around the time dirt was invented, I think, had to head to the other side of Atlanta to pick up a car. Apparently, it belonged to the boss's cousin's kid or something, but he promised to get it fixed up for them. Given the fact that one of us was supposed to drive it back after we got there, I had to believe it wasn't in too bad of a shape, but he didn't specify anything about it.

It took us about two hours to get to the classy neighborhood; something that made me think this guy could surely afford to take care of any repairs at a closer garage, but I suppose even the wealthy folks aren't about to turn away the chance for something for free. The ride down there wasn't fun at all, with Dwayne blasting ancient country music the whole time.

I'm not trying to shit on anyone's taste in music or anything, but that old stuff, back when it was still called country and western music, with the twangy guitar and depressing lyrics, was not my thing. The old guy warbled the words so loud, it damn near ruptured my eardrums. Ok, I'm exaggerating, but the dude couldn't sing for shit! It sounded like we had a damn Chihuahua wrapped around the front axle, trying to grab our attention while it beat its head against the concrete.

Once we pulled up in front of the massive house, I stayed back by the road to have a smoke while Dwayne went to the front door. Turned out, I had more than enough time to finish off the couple I had left with how long the old man ran his mouth for. Sure, it could've been the other guy who wouldn't shut up, but I knew my coworker was a talker when he wasn't moaning out ancient song lyrics anyway.

When they finally finished up whatever four-hundred-page novel they had been reciting, Dwayne walked back to the truck, tossed me the keys, and nodded back to the gorgeous, metallic blue Mercedes in the driveway. I was actually pretty surprised he was letting me drive it, but he always looked as though he'd rolled around in a puddle of grease before even stepping a foot into the garage, so it was probably for the best.

He was already tearing off, howling that old country and western shit before I even got the car cranked. I suppose that was when I likely should've had the common sense to call him real quick before he got too far ahead of me. As I pulled out of the neighborhood I could never even hope to be able to afford to live in, it hit me that I had not paid the slightest bit of attention on the way there.

While my driver tortured the lyrics to every God-awful song, I just played mindless games on my cell phone, not so much as taking note of the first road or street sign. Still, regardless of the fact I had no idea of where I was at the time, other than it being somewhere on the other side of Atlanta, I knew I could allow the GPS on my phone to take the wheel.

For those first ten minutes or so, everything was going great. I managed to keep my thoughts focused enough to pay attention to the computerized voice guiding the path ahead. Naturally, it was right as my phone led me to some back road in the middle of the Georgia boonies, that the damn thing died.

Maybe if I'd thought to charge it before heading out, I wouldn't have drained the battery trying to entertain myself while Dwayne warbled his songs. Hell, if I'd even brought my charger with me, it would've been something, but the owner of the car I was trying to get back to the shop had made sure to clean the damn thing out, not so much as leaving an old stick of chewing gum in the glove compartment.

Being surrounded by nothing even remotely familiar to my eyes, I took off again; this time in search of a gas station. Not only would that likely be my best chance to get some directions, maybe even a map, but I finished my last cigarette while I waited for Dwayne and the owner of the car to finish their extended sermon or whatever.

I wasn't about to light up in this classy car or anything, even if I did pick up the scent of smoke in the upholstery, but getting myself lost had most certainly caused me a craving or four. I was still verbally kicking my ass for not paying attention on the ride when I pulled into some old gas station and bait shop combo.

The whole place smelled like two-week-old roadkill, but I breathed through my mouth for long enough to grab a fresh drink, snatch up a map and ask for a fresh pack of smokes. The old guy behind the counter looked like he hadn't bathed or done laundry since Easter, had about five teeth in his mouth and maybe fourteen hairs in all; each one pasted across the top of his scalp in the worst attempt at a combover I'd ever seen.

"Would you happen to know how to get to the interstate from here?" I asked, likely sounding nasal as hell with my nostrils blocking the stench of the place.

"Yuh-huh," he replied, wearing a wide smile that revealed I may have been overestimating the number of teeth after all, "Whatcha wan' do is take a right, foller that road fer a good seven miles, an'..."

'I think I have that same shirt,' I thought, with my eyes drifting from his mouth to the stained button-up, 'I think you may have misaligned those buttons, bucko. Did you really try to slip that center button into two slots? Is it this place that smells like shit, or you? Why am I being such an asshole? What the fuck is it my business if this guy doesn't own a toothbrush or a shower?'

"... that'll take ye right to it," he said, finishing the directions I had not remotely paid attention to.

"Oh, um…so, I take a right out of here, and..?"

"S'right," he replied, laughing under his breath, "was you even list'nin'?"

"Yeah!" I lied, "I just want to be sure, you know?"

"Lookie," he began again, drooling slightly from his chuckles and a large wad of chewing tobacco," take 'at first right, foller that fer 'bout seven miles. After 'at, ye'll see a red…"

'Just spit already!' I thought, my eyes following the thick, brown drool as it dropped from his chin to his shirt, 'you have a bottle right there! Just spit, wipe your damn mouth, and…shit.'

"...when ye see the old farmhouse up on the hill, ye should be 'bout there. Take 'at second left after…"

'SPIT! For crying out loud, I know you gotta feel that leaking down your chin! I know smoking is a nasty enough habit, but bleagh, that shit's gross! Just…'

"...and that'll take ye right to it," he finished, just glaring at me as though a large question mark just appeared above my head, "you got it now?"

"Um, yeah…um…thanks," I said, snatching up my bag of goodies, turning on my heels, and swiftly heading through the door.

Yes, I felt like a very special sort of idiot for not even being able to hang in there long enough for some simple directions, but I still felt confident I'd heard enough to get by. "Take the first right," he said, and that's exactly what I planned to do, after indulging in a well-earned cigarette.

As I lit one up, feeling that peculiar sensation of being watched, I turned to see the old guy staring out at me, as though wondering why I hadn't gotten moving yet, given his masterful directions I had been mentally checked out for, twice. I just waved back at him, feeling more uncomfortable by the second, wearing a grin I know had to be downright goofy. He did not return either of my gestures; only glared back at me with a very puzzled expression on his face.

Though I had barely cleaned off half of my smoke, I dropped it to the ground, smeared it out with my shoe, and got back in the car, backing out as soon as it cranked up. I gave one last glance back at the strange old man, who still just glared at me, even with another customer seemingly awaiting his change. I just gave a nod and left the old bait/gas station in the dust, taking that first right as suggested.

Sure enough, seven miles up that road, I saw a large, red barn, next to an intersection; a four-way intersection of all things. Had this not been the point my mind wandered each time the old guy attempted to lend me a hand, I may have had the slightest idea which road to take.

I just parked there, studying each of the roads that looked no different from one another; not in any way that read as the most likely to lead to the interstate anyway. I unfolded the map I'd picked up at the bait shop, staring at it like I was attempting to decipher the DaVinci code. This being the first time I had ever looked at a map, other than a passing glance or three, I couldn't so much as narrow down my location at the time.

Finally, giving up on that, folding the damn thing back up to the best of my ability, I just tossed it on the passenger seat and resumed my stare down at the intersection. I have no idea how long I sat in place, feeling like Sherlock Holmes attempting to deduce the clues most likely to indicate who bludgeoned Lady Whitheringtonton to death or some shit when a horn from behind snapped me back to reality.

Feeling as though I just experienced a stroke of genius, I rolled down the window to wave the large, green pickup truck to go around me, hoping that I could potentially follow them back to civilization. When they slowly pulled alongside me, the guy in the passenger seat, who looked about seven feet tall and maybe a hundred pounds soaking wet, stared down at me like I was recording a topless TikTok or something, before they turned to the left, hitting the gas as soon as the wheels straightened back out.

Taking that as my hopeful indicator of the correct path, I threw the Mercedes back in gear and began my pursuit. While I didn't stop to consider that this may seem somewhat unsettling to those guiding the road ahead, as I waved them onwards only to follow behind, it didn't take me long to lose sight of them. This being an especially windy road; one that I wasn't remotely familiar with, I hadn't a chance of keeping up with those who seemingly had no issues navigating it.

Maybe fifteen minutes later, after seeing not the slightest trace of anything or anyone, I was beginning to feel as though I had made the worst decision possible. Granted, I couldn't be sure how far I had actually traveled since leaving that intersection behind, as the road had more curves than my ex-girlfriend, making it so I could barely break forty miles an hour.

There wasn't even anywhere to turn around; no driveways, no branching roads, only two skinny lanes, and a shit ton of sharp lefts and rights. I swear whoever designed that damned road must have been fifty shades of plastered at the time. I halfway thought about attempting to make a U-turn and head back to that four-way, but I didn't need to risk getting the wheels lodged in the ditch or anything. I was already lost; the last thing I needed was to be stranded as well.

Another twenty minutes or so later, as I was beginning to feel more hopeless than a hooker in a monastery, I was finally greeted with the sight of a right turn ahead. It looked like a much smoother road than the one I was on, so I considered just using it to turn back the way I came until the subtle light ahead encouraged me to check it out. Not only was I in no rush to head back to that intersection, only to have another choice to make, but I had to believe that the illumination was a sign of civilization at last.

About five miles up that straight and baby-smooth road, I finally saw life beyond my own ahead, but not in the way I'd hoped. It looked like some sort of fancy mansion, all lit up like Christmas morning. The closer I got, the more out of my element I felt. There were maybe nine or ten vehicles parked out front, most of which looked as though I could never afford to make a single payment, let alone own one outright, but that same green pickup was third from the end in the row.

Given that this was the first thing I'd seen besides trees and potholes in god knows how long, it wasn't exactly a surprise to see the roads only other travelers, but I hoped they wouldn't think I was a weirdo if I did run into them in person. With the fairly wide parking area, I didn't exactly have a hard time finding an open spot, but I was still hesitant about walking up and knocking on the door.

I couldn't make out any sounds coming from the massive house that was easily five or seven times the size of my place, regardless of the veritable hoard of what I assumed to be visitors parked out front. If nothing else, I hoped somebody inside would be willing and able to help me find my way home, but as I climbed out of the Mercedes, I was in no rush to find out.

Being not exactly a people person, I wasn't fond of asking strangers for assistance, especially in their own house I likely wouldn't be welcome in, so I lit another cigarette while I muddled over my next steps. I felt my whole back tense up with nerves when the front door swung open, revealing a pretty and glamorous blonde who stared right at me when she walked out.

"Hi," she mouthed, giving me a wave.

I just waved back, uncertain of anything else to do at the time.

As she closed the door behind her, walked down the steps, and paced toward me, she maintained that friendly grin the whole time. It wasn't a fake smile either; it didn't come off that way anyway. If anything, it seemed more of an expression that only the closest of friends or family would wear; that 'I'm genuinely happy to see you' smile.

While I was parked at the end of the row of crazy expensive vehicles, she didn't have all that far to travel to get to me. The way she moved in that tight-fitting and slinky black dress, it was more like she floated across the pavement rather than placing one foot before the other. She was both elegant and absolutely gorgeous; quite far removed from the women I would talk to on a more regular basis.

"Can I bum one of those?" she asked, breathing the words in a sultry voice while gesturing to the cigarette I still held.

"Oh…yeah, of course," I replied, pulling the pack from my pocket, and flipping open the lid.

"Thanks! I've been dying for a drag, but daddy doesn't approve," she said, rolling her eyes with a giggle, "so, are you the guy? I thought you'd be bigger…and not as cute."

"Huh? No…um, I was just hoping I could maybe get some directions back to the interstate. Got myself turned around a while back and…"

"Wait, you ended up here completely by chance?" she said with a laugh that lit up her whole face, "what are the odds of that!?"

"Well, I mean, this was the only place for miles, y'know? I hadn't seen nobody, um, anyone for a while. Just hoped I could…"

"I gotcha," she said, laying a hand on my arm, still giving me that warm smile, "it's not hard to find. All you have to do is head back the way you came until you get to a four-way intersection, you with me?"

"Yeah. I think that's where I got mixed up, to be honest."

"Okay, so when you get there, take the left, follow that for about…"

I could barely believe how glamorous this woman was. She looked maybe a few years older than me, which could've easily just been the effect of her makeup and perfectly styled, shoulder-length hair, but she was still, like, movie star hot, you know? This was not the average girl, by any means. The fact that she was talking to me like an old friend, even though we'd never met, was…shit…

"...another right after that, and you should hit the exit after a couple of miles."

"Um, so left at the four-way," I stated, pretending I'd paid the slightest attention to what came next.

"Yup yup," she said, slipping her hand from my arm.

"Well, I can't thank you enough. I guess I'll…"

"You wanna come in for a bit? We're having a little get-together, and I know you've got to be hungry or thirsty after all the driving."

"Um, I really should get going," I said, knowing full well that my dad would either be worried or pissed by this point; likely both, to be honest, "but I really do appreciate your help."

"You suure?" she asked in a playful voice, stroking my arm again, "we could talk more if you come inside."

"Believe me, I would love nothing more, but…"

"That's that then," she giggled, snatching me by the hand, flicking the butt of her cigarette to one side, "everyone's gonna love you, I just know it!"

"But…I really need to…I mean, I'm not dressed for…"

"Oh quit playing hard to get," she said, giggling some more, "you know you wanna."

She wasn't wrong, of course. Not to overshare or anything, but it had been a while. Okay, the Sahara desert has probably been going through a shorter dry spell than me, but surely someone as intoxicating as this gorgeous blonde couldn't really be interested in me like that, right? Yeah, I was certain she was just being friendly and all, but I wasn't going to argue with the chance to find out; not that she was giving me much of a choice in the matter.

"What's your name, cutie?" she asked, opening the door to the strangely intimidating mansion.

"Um, Bill…Billy Saxon…most people call me Sax."

"Well ain't that Sax-y," she said, chuckling again while biting her lower lip, "You're so cute; I could just eat you up!"

Yeah, she was totally leading me on, but I was lapping it up like a thirsty dog. I've never been what you would call especially good-looking or anything, but I try to keep in shape. Sort of goes with the job really, given the heavy lifting and working with my hands and all, but she seemed like someone who likes to play games. Still, I mean, I had to go with it, right?

When she pulled me into a wide dining area type of room, there were only a handful of other people there: an older man and woman, each with gray and white hair and a look on their face like they were watching their favorite beagle dropping the kids off at the fire hydrant, three men who looked like they could be the blonde's brothers, and a pretty brunette, wearing a black skirt and white top.

They all looked directly at me when the girl finally let my hand drop from hers, glancing back at me with an oddly proud expression.

"This is Billy, everyone, but you can call him Sax! He got himself lost, and ended up here completely by accident," she made an exaggerated pouty face with that.

"Is that right," the older guy said, looking like he could smell the sweat that was forming on my lower back.

"Yup yup," the blonde said, "so whatcha think?"

"Huh? Oh, yeah…you have a lovely home…um"

"Selena," she replied, cupping her hand beneath my chin, "Se-li-na," she pulled open my mouth with each syllable, flapping her own open and shut to mimic how I must have looked to her.

"Oh, do stop that, 'Lina," the thinner of the well-dressed men said.

"Aw, come on. I'm just having a little fun!"

"Well, I'm certain you're making him feel…"

While they bantered back and forth, I just gazed around the large room, attempting to not notice the especially judgy eyes of the older couple. Seeing them as her folks, I was reminded that my dad would probably be getting pretty heated if I didn't show up soon. Hell, he was likely more worried about the car than me, to be honest. I'm not trying to sound like a dick or anything, but work comes first, and I was on the job at the time.

We'd always been pretty close; my old man and me, but he was a working man through and through, and he expected the same of me. I just hoped that…wait. What did he just say?

"I'm not 'playing with my food', Charles," the blonde said, making exaggerated air quotes, "I'm just having fun. You should try it sometime."

"Um, what?" I asked, right before something jabbed into my neck, causing the lights to dim before me almost immediately.

"Nighty night, Sax-y boy," was the last thing I heard before hitting the floor.

When I woke up; when I was forced back to awareness by some guy jarring my shoulder so hard I thought I may suffer from late-stage shaken baby syndrome, I couldn't see much of anything. From what I could make out, I was in some sort of large cage, with two other captives; one of which being the guy who shook me awake from whatever our hosts had stuck me with.

Once my eyes adjusted to the darkness, while I still felt pretty loopy from the drugs, I saw the tall and skinny guy who had rode shotgun in the green truck that halfway led me here. The other man, who I assumed to be the one in the driver's seat, was not as tall, but twice as stocky. They both had similar features; the same freckled face and light red hair, patchy beard stubble, and wide noses, so when they introduced themselves as the Hodge brothers, I wasn't exactly surprised.

"I'm Earl," the slender guy said in a surprisingly deep voice, "this is Burt."

"Bill - Billy," I replied, still feeling out of it, "what the hell is this?"

"Dunno," the big guy said in a surprisingly gentle and almost squeaky tone, "but I'm sure it ain't nothin' good"

"Yeah, we come out here to pick up a couch they had up for sale. Turns out, there wasn't no sofa, just a damn cell," Earl said with a sigh.

"Hell, I ended up here by accident…got turned around, y'know?"

"You was the one at the four-way!" Burt said, "thought you was high or somethin'. Thought you was follerin' us too after you come out after us."

"Yeah, sorry about that," I said with a slightly embarrassed chuckle, "wished I'd just rolled the dice on one of the other roads now."

"Wish daddy hadn't puked all over our couch too!" Earl said, shaking his head, "couldn't get that smell out fer shit! Figured the one we come out here fer was too good for the money they was askin'. Fitty bucks for a full-on sectional! Shoulda knowed it was too good to…shit…"

He cut his words short when a door opened, shedding light on the otherwise darkened room. It was almost blinding at first, even though it looked as though it came from the top of a staircase, some ten or fifteen feet away. When heavy feet began to stomp down to the level we were on, I felt my stomach lurch from fear of whatever they had in store for us.

I just stared up at the glow silhouetting the group who strolled down as casually as if they were fetching a bottle from the wine cellar. My heart was jackhammering with the hope of finding a way out of this seeming incredibly more unlikely by the second. One thing was certain, though: whatever this batshit crazy family had planned for us, we were about to find out.

Final