When Did You Realize You Were Living With A Supervillain?

Initial Suspicion

When did you realize you were living with a super villain? I was taking out the trash when I noticed Mrs. Curtis from next door struggling with a heavy garbage bag. She kept looking over her shoulder and when she saw me watching, she forced a smile and quickly shoved the bag into the bin.

Over the next few weeks, I noticed that her teenage son, Cooper, who used to play basketball in their driveway, had completely disappeared. I didn’t join the dots until the smell started about a month later. It was faint at first and came from their backyard.

I figured her dog had dragged something dead into the garden, but the smell got worse and attracted flies. Other neighbors started complaining, but Mrs. Curtis insisted it was just fertilizer for her roses. Then packages started arriving daily at her house.

Heavy boxes that delivery drivers struggled to carry. She would meet them at the door and immediately take the packages inside, never letting anyone see what was in them. The delivery trucks came from industrial supply companies, which seemed odd for a suburban neighborhood.

One night, I couldn’t sleep and saw lights on in her basement. Through the small window, I could see her moving around down there. She appeared to be digging, which made no sense. I watched for a while until she suddenly looked up at the window and I ducked away.

The next day, she knocked on my door with a plate of cookies. She was overly friendly and kept mentioning how she valued good neighbors who minded their own business.

The cookies tasted strange, so I threw them out after she left. That night, I felt dizzy and nauseous, even though I’d only eaten one bite. I started documenting everything in a notebook.

The late night digging sounds, the chemical smell that burned my nose when the wind blew from her yard. The fact that I hadn’t seen her husband in 2 months, even though his car was still in the driveway, something was very wrong at the Curtis house.

The breaking point came when I saw her dragging something heavy across her backyard in the middle of the night. It was wrapped in a tarp, but shaped distinctly like a body. She pulled it toward the shed where she kept gardening supplies.

I couldn’t call the police with no real evidence, so I waited until morning. When she left for work, I jumped the fence into her backyard. The shed was locked, but through a crack, I could see multiple tarps piled inside. The smell was overwhelming and definitely not fertilizer.

My hands were shaking as I took photos with my phone. I needed proof before making accusations. That evening, she knocked on my door again. This time, she wasn’t smiling.

She said she’d noticed footprints in her yard and her security camera had malfunctioned. She stared at me intently and mentioned how dangerous the neighborhood had become, how people could disappear without anyone noticing. I assured her I hadn’t seen anything unusual and locked my door with the deadbolt, but I could feel her standing outside for several minutes before finally leaving.

That night, I uploaded all my photos and notes to cloud storage and shared them with my brother, who lived across town just in case. The next morning, there were police cars everywhere.

Officers were carrying evidence bags out of the Curtis house while she sat in the back of a squad car. Neighbors gathered on the sidewalk, whispering about what they’d found. The word bodies kept coming up, but nobody knew the full story yet.

A detective approached me since I lived next door. He asked if I’d noticed anything suspicious lately.

I handed over my notebook and showed him the photos on my phone. He looked grim as he flipped through everything I’d documented. He said they’d received an anonymous tip about unusual chemical purchases.

As they continued searching the house, an officer came running out looking pale. He whispered urgently to the detective who immediately called for more backup. Whatever they’d found in that basement was worse than anyone imagined.

The entire block was evacuated while hazmat teams arrived. Later that evening, the detective returned to take my full statement.

He couldn’t reveal details of the investigation, but thanked me for the documentation. He mentioned they’d found multiple bodies in various stages of decomposition. But what disturbed him most was what they’d discovered in the basement.

She wasn’t just hiding bodies, he said quietly. She was experimenting on them. We found medical equipment and journals describing procedures I can’t even repeat.

I felt sick thinking about all those cookies she’d brought over. All those friendly conversations where she’d smiled and asked about my family.

As I watched them remove evidence bags late into the night, one question haunted me. They’d found her husband’s body and several others I didn’t recognize.

But they still hadn’t found Cooper, her son, who’d supposedly gone to stay with relatives months ago. The detective had asked me to call if I remembered any details about when I’d last seen the boy.

But the truth was I couldn’t remember. It felt like he’d simply vanished one day and we’d all accepted Mrs. the Curtis’s explanation without question.

That’s when I remembered something. The last day I’d seen Cooper, he’d been helping his mother carry one of those heavy packages inside.

He’d looked scared and kept glancing at me like he wanted to say something. That night, he knocked on my door and told me something I should have paid closer attention to.

He might still be alive. Requested Reds is on Spotify now. Check out link in the description or comments.

The morning after Mrs. Aurtis’s arrest, I stood at my kitchen window watching the yellow crime scene tape flutter in the wind around her house.