Seven months pregnant, I agreed to house-sit for my brother and his wife while they vacationed. One afternoon, I stumbled across three mysterious trash bags in the basement. What I found inside made me run for my life and haunts me to this day.
“Run, faster, faster, Celina,” a voice screamed in my head as I stumbled through the dense woods behind my brother’s mansion. Seven months pregnant, I gasped for air, one hand clutching my swollen belly, the other pushing away branches that scratched at my face…
A woman running in the woods | Source: Midjourney
The next bus stop was just beyond these trees. How could I have been so blind? So trusting?
I glanced down at my trembling hands, sticky with drying blood. Wiping them on my dress, I whispered, “We’re safe, my baby. We’re safe. Someone will get us home.”
It all started two weeks ago…
I was curled up on the couch, scrolling through my phone when it buzzed with an incoming call. My brother Victor’s name flashed on the screen.
A smartphone with the screen flashing with an incoming call | Source: Midjourney
“Hey, big bro! What’s up?” I answered, trying to sound cheerful despite the tension that had been building between us lately.
“Celina! How’s my favorite sister?” Victor’s voice boomed through the speaker. “Listen, I’ve got a huge favor to ask. Anne and I are heading out of town for a week. A friend’s wedding plus a little vacation. Any chance you or Paul could house-sit for us?”
Before I could respond, I heard rustling and then my sister-in-law Anne’s voice came on the line.
“Oh, Celina, you’ll love staying here! Don’t worry about a thing, sweetie. The house practically runs itself.”
A woman talking on the phone | Source: Midjourney
I hesitated, thinking about the cold shoulder Anne had been giving me lately.
Our relationship had become increasingly strained over the past year, ever since Paul’s business took off and our financial situation improved dramatically.
Meanwhile, Victor had faced a string of failed ventures, and I could see the toll it was taking on him and Anne.
Portrait of an upset couple | Source: Midjourney
The last straw seemed to be my pregnancy announcement. While the rest of the family had been overjoyed, Anne’s reaction was lukewarm at best.
She didn’t even bother to show up for the gender reveal party, citing being “too busy” when I called to ask why she’d missed it.
I knew it was a lie. Anne and Victor had been trying for years to conceive, with no success due to some health issues she faced. My easy pregnancy seemed to be salt in her wounds.
A gender reveal party | Source: Midjourney
There was also the incident last month when Anne hosted a party to celebrate Victor finally landing a big contract. Paul and I weren’t invited, and when I politely confronted her about it later, she brushed it off with a flimsy excuse about “limited space.”
The hurt and confusion I felt then still lingered.
But now, here she was, asking me to house-sit. Was this her way of extending an olive branch? Maybe she was finally ready to move past her jealousy and resentment.
A woman lost in deep thought | Source: Midjourney
Despite my reservations, I found myself wanting to believe that this could be a turning point in our relationship.
“Sure, I’d be happy to,” I said, hope creeping into my voice. “When do you need me?”
“Morning, eight, yeah?”
“Alright, I’ll be there.”
As I hung up, my husband Paul walked in, his brow furrowing as he took in my expression.
“What’s wrong, honey?”
A concerned man smiling | Source: Midjourney
I explained the situation, watching as concern clouded his features.
“Are you sure that’s a good idea?” he asked gently. “Things have been tense with Anne lately.”
I sighed, rubbing my belly absently. “I know, but maybe this is her way of trying to patch things up? Besides, it might be nice to get away for a bit before the baby comes.”
Paul didn’t look convinced, his brow furrowing with worry.
A worried man sitting on the couch | Source: Midjourney
“I wish I could join you, but I’ve got those crucial client meetings all week,” he said, running a hand through his hair. “Are you absolutely sure about this, darling?”
I nodded, trying to project more confidence than I felt. “It’ll be fine, honey. I can handle it.”
Paul didn’t look convinced, but he nodded. “Alright, if you’re sure. Just promise me you’ll be careful, okay?”
I leaned in, kissing him softly. “I promise. I’ll be fine.”
A pregnant woman sitting on the couch | Source: Midjourney
The following morning, I stood outside Victor and Anne’s mansion, waving goodbye to Paul as he drove away after dropping me.
My brother and sister-in-law emerged, suitcases in hand.
“Celina!” Victor swept me into a gentle hug, keeping a distance from my bulging belly. “Thanks again for doing this. We really appreciate it.”
Silhouette of a woman standing outside a mansion | Source: Midjourney
Anne’s smile seemed forced as she air-kissed my cheek.
“Yes, thank you,” she said, her voice overly sweet. “Everything you need is inside. We’ve got to run to the airport. Have a great week, darling!”
And just like that, they were gone, leaving me alone in the massive house.
A worried woman in a mansion | Source: Midjourney
I wandered from room to room, feeling oddly out of place.
My phone buzzed with a text from Paul: “Miss you already. Call if you need anything. Love you both. 😘“
I smiled, replying quickly before settling onto the couch. As night fell, the house seemed to grow larger and emptier.
The taxidermied animals on the walls seemed to stare back at me, intensifying the feeling that I was being watched.
A pregnant woman sitting amid an eerie display of taxidermied animals | Source: Midjourney
Three days passed in a blur of Netflix binges and long naps.
On the fourth morning, I decided to be a little productive. After my daily call with Paul, I cleaned the kitchen and headed to the basement to check on the furnace.
As I reached the bottom of the stairs, my eyes fell on three large garbage bags tucked in a corner.
“Weird,” I muttered. “Anne must’ve forgotten to take these out.”
Three fully-loaded trash bags in a basement | Source: Midjourney
I snapped a quick picture, sending it to her with a joking message: “Forgot something? Don’t worry, I’ve got trash duty covered!😉”
Seconds later, my phone exploded with notifications. A text from Anne read: “DON’T TOUCH THEM! SERIOUSLY, GET OUT OF OUR BASEMENT! NOW.”
Before I could process her reaction, she called.
I answered, confused. “Anne? What’s wrong?”
“Celina, listen to me,” she hissed. “Get out of the basement. Now. Don’t look in those bags. Just go upstairs and pretend you never saw them.”
A woman gaping in shock as she holds her phone | Source: Midjourney
“But—”
“Just Go. Please.”
“Okay, okay,” I said, backing away. “I’m leaving now.”
I hung up, my heart pounding. What could possibly be in those bags that would make Anne react like that?
Despite every instinct screaming at me to run, curiosity won out.
An alarmed pregnant woman standing against the backdrop of trash bags in a basement | Source: Midjourney
I approached the nearest bag, my hands shaking as I untied the knot.
As I pulled it open, the bag tore and the contents spilled out onto the floor. The moment my eyes registered what lay before me, my blood turned to ice in my veins.
Ritual tools. Decayed chicken bones and feathers. And voodoo dolls. Dozens of crude, handmade dolls, each bearing a photo of MY FACE. Many were stained with a dark, reddish-brown substance and reeked of rot. The stench of decay filled the air, making my stomach churn.
“Oh my God,” I whispered, stumbling backward. “Oh my God, oh my God. This can’t be—”
A voodoo doll with a woman’s picture on it | Source: Midjourney
I fumbled for my phone, dialing Paul with trembling fingers.
“Baby,” I choked out when he answered. “I need you to come get me. Now.”
“Celina, breathe,” Paul’s voice crackled through the speaker. “What happened?”
A terrified woman gaping in shock | Source: Midjourney
I tried to explain between gasps, my words tumbling out in a panicked jumble.
“Bags in the basement… voodoo dolls with my face… blood… Paul, I think Anne’s been trying to curse our baby!”
“Jesus Christ,” Paul muttered. “Okay, listen to me. Get out of that house right now. Don’t wait for me, just go to the bus stop on the main road. I’m on my way.”
I didn’t need to be told twice. I raced up the stairs, pausing only to grab my purse before bolting out the front door. The woods behind the house offered a shortcut to the road, and I plunged in without hesitation.
A frightened woman running in the woods | Source: Midjourney
Branches whipped at my face as I ran, my pregnant belly making it hard to maneuver. I could hear my ragged breathing, punctuated by the snapping of twigs beneath my feet.
Finally, I burst out onto the road, the bus stop just a few yards away. I collapsed onto the bench, gulping in air, my hands and clothes smeared with dirt and blood from my frantic flight through the woods.
Paul’s car screeched to a halt in front of me minutes later. He leapt out, rushing to my side. “Celina! Are you okay? The baby?”
A startled man gaping in shock | Source: Midjourney
I nodded weakly, allowing him to help me into the car. As we sped away, I recounted everything I’d seen in a shaky voice.
Paul’s knuckles were white on the steering wheel. “I knew we shouldn’t have trusted them,” he muttered. “Especially not Anne. The way she’s been acting lately…”
“I can’t believe she’d do this,” I whispered, tears streaming down my face. “My own sister-in-law… how could she hate me this much?”
Paul reached over, squeezing my hand. “We’ll figure this out, I promise. For now, let’s just get you home and safe.”
A shocked woman holding her face | Source: Midjourney
The next few days passed in a haze of fear and disbelief.
Anne called repeatedly, but Paul insisted I shouldn’t speak to her until Victor returned. When they finally got back from their trip, I steeled myself for the confrontation.
We met at a neutral location, a quiet café downtown. Victor looked confused and concerned as I recounted what I’d found, while Anne’s face cycled through shock, anger, and finally, defeat.
A shocked young man | Source: Midjourney
“Is this true?” Victor demanded, turning to his wife. “Have you been… what, practicing witchcraft against my sister?”
Anne’s shoulders slumped. “I… I was jealous,” she whispered. “Your sister got everything so easily… the perfect husband, the thriving business, the baby. I just wanted what she had.”
Victor recoiled in horror. “This is insane, Anne. You need help.”
An alarmed woman looking at a man | Source: Midjourney
“I’m so sorry,” Anne sobbed, reaching for my hand. I pulled away, shaking my head.
“Sorry isn’t enough. You tried to hurt my baby. I can never forgive that.”
In the weeks that followed, our family splintered. Victor filed for divorce, unable to reconcile with Anne’s actions. My parents were devastated, torn between their children and the shocking betrayal.
As for me, I struggled to shake off the fear and paranoia that had taken root. Every unexplained noise, every twinge in my belly sent me into a panic.
Paul was my rock, holding me through tearful nights and accompanying me to every doctor’s appointment to ensure our baby was healthy.
A sad woman sitting on the couch | Source: Midjourney
Slowly, life began to normalize. But as I sat in our nursery, folding tiny onesies and dreaming of the future, I couldn’t help but feel a lingering sense of unease.
My phone buzzed with a text from a friend: “How are you holding up?”
I typed out a response, trying to put my jumbled thoughts into words: “Still processing everything. It’s hard to believe someone so close could betray us like that. If there’s one thing I’ve learned, it’s this: don’t blindly trust someone just because you know them. Terror can strike from unexpected places, even from those closest to you. Stay safe out there.🙏🏻“
I set down my phone, resting a hand on my belly. Our daughter kicked, strong and healthy despite everything. “We’re okay, little one,” I whispered. “We always will be.”
A woman holding her baby bump | Source: Midjourney
This work is inspired by real events and people, but it has been fictionalized for creative purposes. Names, characters, and details have been changed to protect privacy and enhance the narrative. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental and not intended by the author.
The author and publisher make no claims to the accuracy of events or the portrayal of characters and are not liable for any misinterpretation. This story is provided “as is,” and any opinions expressed are those of the characters and do not reflect the views of the author or publisher.
My husband was determined to poison the raccoons that kept invading our backyard, but what they pulled from our trash left me completely shocked
My husband set poison traps for the raccoons that raided our backyard, but I couldn’t bring myself to agree. One night, they pulled something from the trash and I was curious. What I saw in the moonlight left me breathless and in tears.
“No, Kyle, please don’t hurt the poor thing!” The words tore from my throat as I watched my husband hurl a stone at a pregnant raccoon waddling across our backyard. The rock missed, thank God. And the animal scurried away, her movements clumsy with the weight of her unborn babies.
Kyle turned to me, his jaw set and knuckles white around another rock. “They’re pests, Josie. The sooner you understand that, the better.”
I wrapped my arms around myself, trying to stop shaking. After fifteen years of marriage, you’d think I’d be used to his outbursts by now. But every time, it felt like a punch to the gut.
“They’re living creatures, Kyle. They’re just trying to survive.”
He scoffed, tossing the second rock between his hands. “Yeah, well, they can survive somewhere else. I’m sick of coming home to a war zone every day.”
“It’s hardly a war zone. It’s just some scattered trash.”
His eyes narrowed. “Don’t start with me, Josie. Not today.”
The raccoon problem, as Kyle called it, had started last spring. We’d wake up to find our trash cans knocked over and contents strewn across the lawn.
Once, they even climbed onto our deck and raided the leftover barbecue from my birthday party. I didn’t mind much. They were just hungry, after all.
But Kyle took it personally like the animals were deliberately trying to provoke him.
“I’m telling you, we need better locks for the cans,” I suggested one morning as Kyle angrily watched me scoop up the scattered garbage. “Maybe some chicken wire around the garden too. My sister Jane says that worked for them.”
“I don’t care what your sister says. What we need is to get rid of them. Permanently.”
I remembered when we first met, how his spontaneity had seemed charming. Now, at forty, that impulsiveness had morphed into an iron-fisted need to control everything, including me.
“Kyle, please. Can’t we try the peaceful way first?”
He jabbed a finger at me. “You always do this, Josie. Always trying to make everything complicated when there’s a simple solution right in front of us.”
“Simple doesn’t always mean right.”
He slammed the broom against the side of the house. “What was that?”
I flinched. “Nothing. I’ll look into better trash cans today.”
That weekend, I found Kyle in the garage, assembling something metallic.
“What’s that?” I asked, though I already knew. Animal traps.
He didn’t look up. “Insurance. These smart traps will catch anything that comes near our trash.”
“Kyle, please. They could hurt them.”
He slammed down his screwdriver. “That’s the point! I’m so sick of you defending these disease-carrying vermin. You act like they’re some kind of pets.”
“They’re not pets, but they don’t deserve to suffer. Maybe if we just—”
“Maybe if we just what, Josie? Let them take over? Build them a guest house while we’re at it? I’ve had it with your bleeding heart routine.”
I felt tears welling up but forced them back. “Why does everything have to be solved with violence? They’re just hungry animals, Kyle.”
He stood up, his face red. “You want to know what I think? I think you care more about these pests than our home. Than me.”
“That’s not fair.”
“Isn’t it? Every time I try to solve a problem, you fight me. The raccoons, the neighbor’s dog that keeps barking all night, even that group of teens that hangs out by our fence.”
“Those are all living beings, Kyle. Not problems to be ‘solved.’”
“This is my house!” he yelled, making me jump. “I work every day to pay for it, to keep it nice, and I’m not going to let some animals destroy it while my stupid wife takes their side!”
When the raccoons started showing up again this spring, Kyle completely lost it.
That evening, I was folding laundry when he stormed in, waving a piece of paper and grinning like he’d won the lottery.
“You’ll never guess what I found at the hardware store. Industrial-grade pest control. Guaranteed to solve our little problem.”
I took the paper. It was a receipt for animal traps and some kind of poison. My hands started trembling.
“Kyle, you can’t be serious. That stuff could kill them!”
He snatched the receipt back. “That’s the point, Josie. God, sometimes I think you’re being dense on purpose.”
“But what if neighborhood cats get into it? Or someone’s dog? We could get in trouble.”
Kyle’s face darkened. “I’ve made up my mind. The raccoons are gone by the end of the week, one way or another.”
I spent that night tossing and turning, my mind racing. When did the man I married become someone who could so casually talk about killing innocent creatures?
I thought about calling Jane, but I already knew what she’d say. She’d never liked Kyle and always said there was something off about him. Maybe I should have listened.
The breaking point came on a quiet Tuesday night two days later. I was reading in bed when I heard rustling outside. Peering through the window, I saw one of the trash cans had been knocked over again.
I slipped on my robe and grabbed a flashlight. As I approached the mess, something caught my eye. It was a black garbage bag, partially open, with something moving inside.
My hands trembled as I reached for it. “Oh no. No, no, no…”
Inside were three tiny raccoon babies, barely old enough to open their eyes. They were squirming weakly.
“Kyle!” I screamed, cradling the bag close. “Kyle, get out here right now!”
He appeared on the porch, looking annoyed. “What are you yelling about? It’s the middle of the night, you crazy woman!”
“Did you do this?” I held up the bag. “Did you throw away baby animals like they were garbage?”
He shrugged. “They’re pests. I’m handling it.”
“Handling it? They’ll die!”
“That’s the point, Josie. Jesus, why are you so naive? They’re just raccoons!”
“Just raccoons? They’re babies, Kyle! Living, breathing creatures that feel pain and fear. How would you feel if someone threw you away to die?”
He laughed, a cold sound that made me shiver. “Now you’re comparing me to a raccoon? How dare you, Josie?”
“I’m comparing you to someone with empathy, and you’re coming up short.”
Kyle stepped closer, his voice a chilling growl that made my blood run cold. “You know what your problem is? You’re soft. Always have been. The world isn’t some fairy tale where we all just get along. Sometimes you have to be tough.”
“Tough? There’s nothing tough about hurting something weaker than you. That’s just cruel.”
I looked at him and wondered how I’d never seen the cruelty that had always been there.
The next morning, I called every wildlife rescue in the area until I found one that could help. A kind woman named Marla showed me how to feed the raccoon kits with a tiny bottle.
“You’re doing great,” she assured me, watching as I cradled the smallest one. “They’re lucky you found them when you did.”
As I watched the kit suckle eagerly, tears rolled down my cheeks. “I just don’t understand how someone could be so cruel.”
Marla squeezed my shoulder. “Sometimes the animals we save end up saving us too.”
That evening, I found Kyle’s journal and a detailed plan for dealing with the “raccoon infestation.” It included poison locations, trap placements, and even a schedule. The methodical cruelty of it made me sick.
When Jane arrived, she saw the journal in my hands.
“Still think I’m overreacting?” I asked, showing her the pages.
She shook her head. “Josie, this isn’t about raccoons anymore. Maybe it never was.”
“I know,” I whispered. “I think I’ve always known.”
The divorce papers were served a week later. Kyle didn’t seem surprised, just angry. As always.
“You’re really throwing me out over some pests?” he spat as he packed his things into boxes.
I stood my ground in the doorway of what was now my house alone. “No, Kyle. I’m ending this because of who you’ve become. Who you’ve always been, maybe, and I just didn’t want to see it.”
Days turned into weeks. The raccoon kits grew stronger.
The smallest one was shy and always hid behind his siblings. The middle one was curious about everything. And the biggest was protective, always watching out for the others.
Marla helped me release them back into the wild when they were ready. As we watched them toddle toward the treeline, I saw movement in the bushes. There, watching us, was their mother.
“Look,” Marla whispered. “She came back for them.”
The mother raccoon chittered softly, and her babies ran to her. Before disappearing into the forest, she turned and looked right at me. In that instance, I felt a connection to something larger than myself. Compassion.
“You know,” Marla said, “there’s an opening at the rescue center if you’re interested. We could use someone with your kindness.”
I smiled, feeling lighter than I had in years. “I’d like that.”
“You know, Josie, you can tell a lot about a person by how they treat animals. They’re like a mirror that reflects our true selves.”
Looking back, I realized the raccoons hadn’t just been victims of Kyle’s cruelty. They’d been my wake-up call. Sometimes it takes seeing someone else’s vulnerability to recognize your own.
As the raccoons disappeared into the trees, I took a deep breath and felt ready for a fresh start. I knew I deserved better, and that someday, I’d find the right person who saw the world with the same compassion I did.
Leave a Reply