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The day before the cabin:

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The past year had been exhausting. Humiliating, confusing, excruciating. Sad, worrisome and volatile. His separation from Amy was solidified and made permanent by the court. The divorce was finalized two months ago.

Up until the judge signed the papers making it legal, Travis had been sneaking over to the house whenever Amy was at work. Mowing the lawn, tidying things up. He was leaving money on the table for the bills. All this, in hopes that somehow they would reconcile. That would prove impossible, and unprofessional of Amy, given the ongoing murder investigation. 

Amy refused to communicate with him at all. Every message or question she had for Travis was delivered by Tommy. The mediator. There were plenty of don't-shoot-the-messenger moments since then. 

Since the court's ruling, he was on his brother's couch. Just him, his guitar and a U-Haul in the driveway full of boxes that Amy'd been packing over the last thirteen months or so. It was parked right next to his Jeep. He loved that thing. It reminded him of the day he drove up to the house and showed it to his wife. The day he found out she was pregnant. The last normal day he would ever see. 

When the sun had set on that day, his son had returned to him. He'd slit his wrists. He hadn't known it at the time, but Amy'd had an abortion the day before. That Tommy was there. That his whole world was about to come unraveling like an aerial dancer, flailing from her ribbon at Cirque du Soleil. 

He honestly couldn't recall seeing Rachael the night she died. Did he kill her? He didn't really know. Tuck was sure of it. Amy was hoping he didn't, but the feeling in her stomach was impeccably persuasive. 

Evidence whether he did it or not was split and contradictory. Examples such as; Tommy didn't wake up if he left in his car, or when he got home. Travis' fingerprints weren't on the gun found next to her body, However, he owned a matching one. The cameras indicated that he was at her house that night, but not that he'd killed her. Under the circumstances, maybe it shouldn't have been deemed suspicious, or unusual, for him to have wanted to visit her. He'd just come home from a coma-induced, lengthy hospital stay, his son was dead and buried, his wife had moved out. There was no reported history of violence or abuse. Also, the original report ruled the cause of death a suicide. There were plenty of innocent reasons as to why he would've been there. But, she was dead, and that would necessitate a closer examination. 

To Travis, The sheriff was on a witch hunt. Hell bent on making the arrest. Maybe get his fifteen minutes at the expense of an innocent man's life. He blamed Tuck for the hell he'd suffered over the last year. 

Travis had made a purchase. He was taking a step toward shaking off his torment and starting over. A cabin. Remote. Hours away. Hidden deep within a forest. Just a couple miles the mountain from a town called Timber Creek. 

His brother had agreed to follow him out. He would drive his brother's jeep, while Travis operated the awkwardly large moving truck. The following morning, Tommy would return the truck to the company they'd rented it from. It would be a lot of driving, but his brother needed the help. He also wanted to make sure that Travis wouldn't be alone that first night. He hadn't tried to take his life for a year, but the worry was still there and the event still seemed fresh. Almost defining Travis' characterization now. 

The land was discovered by Travis when he began looking for property for sale in Timber Creek, after reading the book about Forest Hill. He liked the way it was described in the pages of the old hardback. And, the cabin came cheap. A price he couldn't refuse. It was a steal. 

Tommy wasn't home. Travis was on the couch, cradling his guitar. Picking out a song he'd been working on for the last month or so. It was inspired by a humming he'd heard somewhere, that he couldn't get out of his head. He wasn't able to find the lyrics to lay over that hypnotizing, unable-to-escape hum. So, he just kept searching for them. Playing that song. 

He decided that, since he was leaving in the morning, presumably forever, he would go visit the old house one last time. Maybe Amy would be there and he could even get a farewell hug. Maybe a goodbye kiss. One for the road. For luck. Old times sake. 

As he approached the driveway, he was relieved to see that Amy's vehicle was there. She was home! But, wait. Who else is here?  The additional car was...Tommy? Travis parked behind his brother and ex-wife.

The ropes, the knots, in his intestines were coiling around like snakes at the feeling of betrayal. How many times have these two acted suspicious? How many strange coincidences? What the fuck is he doing here? 

He turned the knob quietly. The door opened without a sound and Travis stepped inside. He could already hear them. The moans of intimacy. He recognized hers. His heart was thunder-fucking his chest as he strained to maintain stealth walking toward the cracked, open bedroom door. 

She was on her back, her legs open for him. He was on top of her, his bare ass clinching each time he thrust passionately. Slowly burying himself inside of her accepting, begging vagina. They weren't just fucking, they were making love. They were kissing and taking their time with their hands, exploring each other's bodies. Her fingers in his hair, following his kisses to her neck. Her body was wanting as it moved against his, rhythmically slow dancing with soft passion. 

He could smell the sex in the air. Her familiar scent when she'd been cumming often and intense. He could tell by the acceleration and length of her moans, the shortness between panting breathes, that she was about to cum again. 

Defeated and torn apart from the inside out, Travis backed away from the door and followed his hurt and anger out to his Jeep. His .357 almost glimmered in the sunlight when he pulled it out. 

Neither of them noticed him entering the room. As she was erupting with pleasure, in the midst of an orgasmic howl, Travis shot his brother in the back of the head. In a satisfying snap, the thrusting stopped and the bright red splatters covered the white sheets. Her lustful screams were now screams of terror. With his ears still ringing, Travis watched her legs kicking as she struggled unsuccessfully to get out from under Tommy. 

Travis methodically walked over to the edge of the bed to look into her eyes. He blankly stared at her for what seemed an eternity, while she shrieked and cried. When he was satisfied with her suffering, he put one in her forehead. He then fired three more random bullets into both of them and casually left the room with their blood sprinkled all over his face. 

He walked into the living room where stood Briar. But, he wasn't alone. There was Rachael. She was swaddling a tiny infant in her arms. They looked happy. Incredibly happy actually. Briar pleaded once again, "Come with me, Daddy. Please."

Rachael assured him, "It's okay, Baby. We love you. I love you, Travis."

"Please, Daddy?"

He had one bullet left in his chamber. Without another thought, he sprayed his brains all over the walls of the living room. His limp, soulless body hit the floor. What was left of his blood puddled around his shell. 

But, he was no longer in the room with his family. The moment he created the fatal hole, from which his soul could escape, it ran like a caged animal who'd been released from its leash. He had no memory of Briar, of Rachael. Not of Tuck, the murders.

Instead, he felt like he'd been driving all day. The moving truck he'd rented had become a chore to navigate along the old and cracked blacktop that chewed its way through the trees. His half empty coffee cup, dancing in the cup holder to the vibration of the road, was impossible to ignore and was becoming increasingly irritating. Rattling, splashing around and taunting his peripheral vision. The distraction seemed almost intentional. Keeping him from daydreaming about arriving at his new cabin. A daydream he'd been consumed with since he left St. Louis on this journey. 

He withstood the dance for as long as he could. He quickly snatched the cup, chugged it down, and tossed it victoriously into the floorboard. Now, the anticipation of beginning his new life would be his companion for the rest of the trip. 

Little did he know, he wasn't simply driving to a new cabin out in the woods to begin his new life; his life was over. He was going to Hell. 

His body was buried in the Sacred Heart Cemetery, next to Briar and Rachael. Underneath a tombstone that read; Here Lies Travis Moss.

THE END