This is an automated archive made by the Lemmit Bot.
The original was posted on /r/nosleep by /u/Federal_Machine692 on 2024-09-21 16:30:45+00:00.
When we arrived at the Renfield residence, the first thing I noticed was that the front door was left half open. This was supposed to be my first visit to their home. I could see that there was no car parked out front, but the driveway still bore visible tire marks.
The garden around the house also showed mild signs of neglect, with overgrown bushes, a few scattered weeds and grass that had become somewhat unruly. It was hard to tell whether this was a sign of unexpected abandonment or simply lazy upkeep.
My husband Richard gently knocked on the door, his fingers idly brushing the handle of his gun at his side, just in case.
"Mr. and Mrs. Renfield?" he shouted, his voice echoing across the front patio.
I stood right behind him, with our six-year-old son peeking out from behind me.
There was no response. After almost a minute of waiting, my husband decided to go in and take a look.
“Stay here,” he said, as he unholstered his weapon and stepped inside.
When he pushed the door wide open, I immediately caught a glimpse of the living room. It appeared as though the Renfields had left in a hurry, leaving most of their belongings strewn about. The back screen door, left ajar, slowly creaked open and shut with the breeze.
“Mr. Renfield?” he called out again as he surveyed the room. “This is Sheriff Parkins. Is anyone home?”
Richard next instinctively pointed his gun at the ceiling when he heard footsteps emanate from the upper floor. The sound seemed to move away and gradually fade as it eventually led toward the staircase across the living room.
“Whoever you are, be careful now!,” he cautioned loudly. “Please make your way down the stairs slowly and calmly.”
I honestly didn’t know what to expect as I held onto my son Alex tightly near the doorway.
Maybe it was one of the Renfields themselves coming down the stairs, or perhaps a burglar who had slipped in through the open door, or even a homeless person seeking shelter for the night.
But instead, a large German Shepherd appeared, his eyes locked on Richard as he descended the stairs. He looked menacing with each step he took, his fur bristling, muscles coiled, as though preparing for a confrontation.
“Easy there, boy,” Richard said in a low, soothing voice, his weapon still pointed at the animal. “I’m not here to hurt anyone buddy. Let’s keep things calm, alright?”
He took a cautious step back as the dog reached the foot of the stairs, trying to signal that he meant no harm.
My husband glanced briefly at me and Alex, then refocused on the dog, careful not to make any sudden moves.
The German Shepherd barked twice, baring his teeth, his gaze locked on Richard as it took a tentative step forward, almost expecting him to retreat further in response.
But Richard didn’t budge this time, and the dog’s stance grew more aggressive. A deep growl rumbled in his throat as he bared his teeth even further, taking another deliberate step forward, poised to attack at any moment.
In an instant, my six-year-old suddenly broke free from my grip and rushed into the house.
“Alex!” I yelled after him, panic surging through my chest.
I’m not sure what exactly happened next, but the dog’s stance immediately relaxed. He sat on his hind legs,with his tail swaying slightly as he looked at Alex.
Before either of us could react, Alex placed his hand on the dog’s head. “You must be Kripke. Nice to finally meet you,” he said, patting the dog gently.
The German Shepherd's ears twitched, but he remained seated, his tail wagging more vigorously as Alex stroked his fur. My heart raced, unsure of what was happening, but the tension in the air had shifted entirely.
Richard heaved a sigh of relief and cautiously lowered his weapon, looking equally confused.
Before we had any time to process the situation, Kripke suddenly bolted up the stairs, prompting Alex to chase after him, with Richard and me quickly following suit.
He led us straight to the last room on the upper floor and stopped next to a closet. It was clear the room belonged to a little girl, with pink-colored walls and a small bed dressed in fairy-patterned linens.
Yet, it had an air of neglect—unwashed plates and bowls of cereal lay scattered across the floor, adding to the sense of disorder.
Richard, with Alex now by his side, silently motioned for him to stay back. Slowly, he opened the closet door, and I immediately recognized Lily.
She was sitting inside, crouched on her knees, her index and middle finger in her mouth, and her eyes wide with nervousness. Her gaze darted between the three of us as she continued to suck on her fingers, looking vulnerable.
Finding her in such a state, the reality hit me - she had been abandoned by her own family. The thought of her enduring such isolation made my heart ache with sadness.
The Renfield family had moved to our town only six months ago. I first met them during Mass at church, where they appeared to be a typical, if somewhat private, couple who mostly kept to themselves.
Their six-year-old daughter, Lily, was in the same class as my son. The two kids quickly became friends, and when Lily missed three days of school in a row, Alex grew concerned.He kept insisting that we check on her family at their home.
Richard had just then returned from a grueling overnight sting operation with the city police and was already looking exhausted and worn out. Despite his fatigue, he agreed to come with us to check on the Renfields on our way to school.
“But what happened to the girl’s parents?” I wondered silently as my thoughts returned to the present. “Why did they leave her alone in the house with no one to care for her?”
Meanwhile, Alex knelt in front of Lily and gave her a gentle hug, while Kripke calmly stayed by their side, his tail wagging softly.
Richard and I then helped Lily climb out of the closet and onto the bed. She continued to suck on her fingers, a clear sign of her distress. I gently took her hand away and wiped it with a towel. Her pajamas, which hadn’t been changed in several days, looked crumpled, and soiled with food stains.
Richard then left to check the room across the hall that belonged to the parents. When he returned, his expression revealed that it had been completely cleared out.
I couldn't help but wonder again why the Renfields would suddenly abandon their only child.
With no immediate answers available, I quickly packed a bag with some of Lily’s clothes and toys from her room, and escorted the kids and Kripke back downstairs to get to our car.
We decided it was best to let Alex skip school for a couple of days so that Lily felt comfortable while she stayed in her home.
When we finally arrived at our residence, I saw tears trickling down Lily’s face. In this new and unfamiliar environment, it seemed to dawn on her that things were changing faster than she could process. She was already starting to miss the comfort of her own home.
Lily slowly stepped out of the car, holding Kripke’s leash, while Alex took her other hand and gently led her inside the house.
When I stepped into the living room, a foul smell immediately hit me, wafting from the kitchen. I silently gestured for Alex to take Lily to the spare room at the end of the hall. Richard and I then cautiously made our way to the kitchen to investigate the strange odor.
There, on the kitchen counter, we found a gutted pigeon, left for dead. Next to it, a family photo of me, Richard, and Alex lay flat, with a single bullet placed ominously on top. I saw the color immediately drain from Richard’s face.
He had been working with the FBI to take down a regional drug cartel, and just hours earlier, they had raided their base. While they seized millions in drugs and arrested over a dozen people, a few key members, including the ringleader, had evaded capture.
Richard assured me he would deploy deputies around the house and that they would also soon catch the ones on the run. We then quickly cleaned the kitchen to ensure the kids didn't walk in on the disturbing scene,
A few minutes later I helped Lily change out of her old clothes and gave her a quick bath, while my husband tended to Kripke, ensuring he was well fed and comfortable. We did our best to make Lily feel at home, but it was clear she was missing her parents.
She handed her dad’s number to Richard, asking him to call it and contact her father, her eyes all the while brimming with hope. Somehow she felt with him calling, the outcome would be different.
However, when the number proved unreachable, Lily simply sat in a corner with Kripke and refused to eat. No amount of cajoling by me or Richard seemed to make a difference. Even Alex tried to help by bringing her a plate of food, but it remained untouched.
Fortunately, things started to look up a couple of hours later when Alex pulled out a wooden top from his pocket and dangled it in front of Lily to grab her attention.
With careful precision, he wound the string tightly around the grooved, pear-shaped toy, then yanked it sharply in one fluid motion.
The top bobbed in the air for a moment before landing on its metallic tip, spinning smoothly on the ground. The trick worked—Lily's eyes followed the top as it danced in graceful arcs, looping and wobbling across the floor in mesmerizing circles.
But Alex was not done yet. He expertly looped the string around the spinning metallic tip and yanked at it again wi...
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