As Jack drove the police car home, his heart throbbed beneath his chest. He was deep in thought, still wondering if it was just a hallucination. He had seen it clearly—the monstrous reflection that gazed back at him from the window. And then there was the clock chime that still echoed within his ears.

  He remembered how vivid the horror had been back then... how his entire body had frozen, his muscles pulled taut. He'd expected someone to see the monster—to hear the chime—but no one did. Their attention had been fixated on the mangled corpses spread across the area.

  'Route eight...' I repeated the name wordlessly. 'Route eight... there's something wrong with it.'

  Route 8 was the area where the Gary Child Services and Gary Cemetery were located. It was a wide stretch from the Gary Police Department Headquarters to Lake Michigan which lay north of Gary. Route 8 led nowhere except for the Gary Cemetery, a stygian dead end.

  The residents of Gary rarely drove through Route 8 or even entered the area. They widely believed the lore of ghosts haunting the area. Jack had been skeptical, but now he was a 'fervent' believer. In fact, he was a witness to it.

  Jack promised himself not to return there tonight. But the Police Chief had other plans and insisted he continued his night shift. He almost ran mad at the police headquarters.

  "I can't return..." He muttered to himself, hands gripped around the steering wheel. "I can't return..."

  Soon, the police car drove into Route 7 where most of the residential buildings in Gary were located. A long highway ran through this area to Chicago, Illinois which was roughly forty or fifty miles from Gary.

  There were several identical bungalows on both sides of the highway stretching for miles. Each bungalow had a wooden fence and gate, a garden and lawn within. One could even see the cars parked at the garage from the highway.

  Jack drove directly across the driveway, entering into a yard. He noticed how the wooden gate was open and parked at the garage before alighting from the car.

  'How could they forget to close the gate?' He thought in annoyance as he trudged toward the gate.

  After locking it, he made his way to the bungalow and opened the door. Just like other bungalows, its walls were painted grey. But it seemed the paints were already old, cracks running through them.

  "Honey, I'm home!" Jack forced a smile as he entered the living room. The smell of roast meat wafted through the atmosphere and made him salivate.

  "Daddy! Daddy!" A little girl ran to hug him. She had brown hair and eyes just like him. That was his daughter, Annabel, a six-year-old smart kid.

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  "My little Angel!" He laughed as he swooped her into the air with both hands.

  A tall slender teenage girl sat on one of the sofas watching the Supernatural series. She was indifferent to Jack's presence and pretended no one existed.

  "Dad, what's the meaning of a slut?" Annabel suddenly asked Jack.

  The patrol officer's eyes shrank for a brief moment, his breath hitched. His eyes zeroed in on the girl who was watching TV suspiciously.

  "Where did you learn that term from?" He asked Annabel.

  "Mirabel," Annabel said with a mischievous grin.

  The teenage girl suddenly jerked her head up, eyes flaring at Annabel. "If you dare snitch on me, I'll call you worse!"

  A sigh escaped Jack's lips as he waved his free arm helplessly. Dealing with his two daughters had always been more troublesome than his patrols. Thankfully, his first child John was not around, or he would have passed out immediately.

  "Mirabel, you shouldn't say such words to your sister," Jack said softly. "You're not an adult and she's obviously a kid."

  "I'm not a kid!" Both of them retorted, eyes glaring at their father.

  "Eh..." Jack scratched the back of his head. "What I mean is..."

  "We know what you mean!"

  "Alright, alright," he admitted his shameful defeat. "Where is your mom?"

  "I'm fifteen..." Mirabel grumbled to herself. "Why do you keep treating me like a kid..."

  'Because you're a kid?' Jack answered inwardly. Of course, he didn't share his thoughts and let the matter die.

  A soft voice soon shouted from the kitchen, "Honey? Is that you?"

  "Yes, it's me!" Jack replied with a grin as he placed Annabel on the floor. As he sauntered off to the kitchen, he heard her mutter something about how fathers were dicks.

  'Mirabel...' He almost bumped into the dining table. For a brief moment, he stood there with a glare toward his teenage daughter before sauntering off to the kitchen again.

  There he met his beautiful wife cooking a delicious meal. Just like him she had brown hair and eyes, as if they were siblings and not couples. Her pink heart-shaped lips curled into a warm smile when she saw him. She looked very cute.

  Jack walked toward her and hugged her from behind. "Miriam, you're as boisterous as always... those soft hips do not age at all."

  "Jack Holmes!" She laughed and edged away from him. "Don't be naughty... the kids are around!"

  "The kids won't mind," he smiled and reached out to hug her again. This time he gave her a deep kiss till his wife pushed him off.

  "Please... You just came back from work," Miriam said. "When you're done bathing and eating, we'll catch up... in the bedroom."

  Jack made a sudden move in an attempt to kiss her once more. But Miriam was faster and dodged him. He ended up kissing empty air.

  "Miriam..." He protested with pitiful eyes but Miriam wouldn't have it.

  "Alright then!" He clenched his fists and turned around. "Don't complain when I get so rough on you..."

  "Jack Holmes!" Miriam yelled in faked anger, causing her husband to freeze. He raised an eyebrow up in confusion, then realized what he had done wrong.

  "I'm really sorry," he apologized and walked toward her. He then knelt down to kiss his wife's protruding stomach. She was five months pregnant with their fourth child.

  When he was done, he yelled, "Look over there!"

  It was a trick but Miriam fell for it and he gave her a kiss. Then he ran off to the bedroom before she could whack him with a spoon.

  Jack stood before the mirror to undress, completely forgetting about the incident at Route 8. Unbeknownst to him, a reflection appeared in the mirror for a brief second. Then, it vanished before he could see it.

  The curtains wallowed in the wind while the wall clock continued to tick. Apart from the sound of cars honking on the highway, the bedroom was eerily quiet.