Sean was driving around town all day, but he didn't really know where he was going. Then he remembered that Lizzie's parents had a cabin in Maine. It was in a town called Bridgewater. Lizzie and Sean had stayed there together on the night of their three year anniversary. Bridgewater was a couple miles north, so he decided to stay there for a couple nights. It was nice and secluded, which was exactly what he needed at the moment. He turned the car around and headed towards Bridgewater.
About a half an hour later Sean arrived in Bridgewater. The cabin was in the middle of the woods, so you would probably miss it if you didn't know it was there. Sean pulled into the driveway and turned the car off. He stared out the windshield for a moment before stepping out of the car. He stood in front of the car for a moment and admired it. It was a black 1967 Chevrolet Impala. Lizzie's dad, who was very wealthy, gave it to them as an anniversary gift. He smiled, turned around, and walked towards the house. You could tell the cabin hadn't been used in years. It was worn down, pieces of the roof had broken off, and the paint had chipped off the door. He walked up the stairs and looked around for a rock or a mat that could be hiding a key underneath it. Then he went over to the beaten up chair in the corner and lifted it up. Underneath the leg of the chair was a key with the letters L.G. written on it.
"Lizzie's initials." He whispered to himself as he wiped the dirt off the key with his sleeve. Her name was Lizzie Greaves. When they got married they were planning on taking her last name instead of his.
He looked up, took a deep breath, and then placed the key slowly in the lock. When he heard it click he pushed the door open slowly and looked around the cabin. It looked worse on the inside than it did on the outside. The chandelier was shattered on the floor, the tables and chairs were in pieces all over the room and the sofa was ripped open. There were pools of blood in several places throughout the house and the smell was unbearable. As he walked through the house the smell got worse and he had to hold his nose shut and covered his mouth to keep from puking. He turned the corner to the kitchen and there was a puddle of blood that filled the room.
"Holy crap." Sean said as he backed away from the kitchen. "What kind of sick son of a bitch could…" He whispered slowly. Then his mind wandered back to the gas station. That thing, whatever it was, it didn't have a problem beating the crap out of him. Killing someone probably wouldn't be an issue for it.
Sean walked back to his car. He couldn't handle the smell anymore. He stared at the cabin from inside his car and just sat there. He just wanted to go back. Back to when he and Lizzie were together, watching cartoons on the weekends. He use to wake up early and make her breakfast. They would sit there and talk for hours about what they wanted to do with their lives. He started the car and drove off. He still didn't know where he was going, but he knew he had to get out of there.
A couple hours later Sean stopped to get some gas. He had been driving for a while, and his tank was almost empty. He was standing outside with his hands in the pockets of his coat and he felt a small piece of crumbled up paper. He pulled it out and remembered it was the paper Adam had given him at the motel. He took a deep breath, got his phone out of the car, and dialed the number written on the paper.
"Hey, Adam, it's Jim. You feel like getting a drink?" Sean asked as he got back into the car. He cranked on the engine and drove away.