a black 1984 Chevy Impala and the wheels were custom and it had four doors. The car slowed as it passed, and I knew enough to keep my eyes forward and walk with purpose. Something hadn’t felt right. The car waited at the corner, and I suspected they were watching me. Since it had pulled from the curb in front of my house, I decided it best not to go home, so I walked to the O’Neil’s. From my peripheral vision, I saw the car drive off.”
He closed his eyes and was right back in that place. “I turned back and walked up the driveway to my home. Mom had been keeping the door unlocked for me so I could get in and when I reached my hand out to the door handle, I noticed grease marks on the plunger mechanism. But I grabbed it anyway and pushed it down with my thumb. The door opened, and I walked in cautiously. The house was quiet—too quiet. I called out for my mom, then my dad, but no one answered, and I searched the entire downstairs floor before making my way upstairs. On the staircase I noticed more grease stains on the railing and my fingers and I wiped them away on my shirt.”
Logan shuddered at the memory. Jessie sat up in his lap and held him tight, her arms around his neck, caressing him, encouraging him.
“I thought I should check their room, but I didn’t want to.” He shook his head. “I didn’t want to know. It was like I had a sixth sense or something, and I knew deep down something sinister lay behind their bedroom door.” His eyes found her clear blue ones. “I checked every other room before theirs. I opened the door to my room and walked around, looking into the closets and under the bed. I still had on my Saved By the Bell backpack, and I pulled the strings to tighten it to my body. For some reason I took comfort in that.”
“Logan…” Tears ran from Jessie’s eyes. She wiped them away as he watched.
“When I reached their room I saw more of what I’d mistaken for grease on the door handle, and I twisted the knob and pushed the door open.”
Logan gasped for breath as he recalled the scent, as clear now as it had been that frightful day all those years ago.
“A waft of air hit me, carrying the scent of iron.” Needing her strength, he stared into Jessie’s soul. “Turns out blood does have a scent, especially if there’s a lot of it. I stepped into the entryway of their large bedroom and then advanced slowly into the room, my mind screaming all the way. Something caught my peripheral vision and my head involuntarily turned and my eyes beheld the gruesome sight that will haunt me for the rest of my life.”
He shuddered, and Jessie quivered in response.
“My parents hadn’t just been murdered, they’d been mutilated.” His breath had gone ragged. “There were lacerations on their bodies, and cuts of all sizes, actual places that were sliced open and”—his voice hitched and he released it on a choke—“parts of their bodies had been removed.”
His body tensed, and he sensed his eyes glaze over as he was catapulted back in time into that scared, helpless ten-year-old boy. His body began to tremble, back in that room, back with that smell. He was alone and frightened. He was trapped just as he had been that fateful day—rendered immobile by pain and the barbaric cruelty of murderous thugs. His body was no longer under his command. Sheer terror had wrapped its claws around his neck, choking him and cloaking him in agony.
Jessie came up on her knees in the chair, straddling his thighs. She took his cheeks in her hands and softly kissed his face. She whispered, “I’m here, Logan. I’m here.” She held and rocked his upper body tenderly. “Come back to me.” She took his bottom lip into her mouth and sucked. He was aware of her unclasping the clip holding her hair back and pulling the thick curtain over her shoulders. Logan’s head instinctively burrowed into her neck, and a waterfall of liquid copper surrounded him, drenching him in apples and cinnamon,
He closed his eyes and was right back in that place. “I turned back and walked up the driveway to my home. Mom had been keeping the door unlocked for me so I could get in and when I reached my hand out to the door handle, I noticed grease marks on the plunger mechanism. But I grabbed it anyway and pushed it down with my thumb. The door opened, and I walked in cautiously. The house was quiet—too quiet. I called out for my mom, then my dad, but no one answered, and I searched the entire downstairs floor before making my way upstairs. On the staircase I noticed more grease stains on the railing and my fingers and I wiped them away on my shirt.”
Logan shuddered at the memory. Jessie sat up in his lap and held him tight, her arms around his neck, caressing him, encouraging him.
“I thought I should check their room, but I didn’t want to.” He shook his head. “I didn’t want to know. It was like I had a sixth sense or something, and I knew deep down something sinister lay behind their bedroom door.” His eyes found her clear blue ones. “I checked every other room before theirs. I opened the door to my room and walked around, looking into the closets and under the bed. I still had on my Saved By the Bell backpack, and I pulled the strings to tighten it to my body. For some reason I took comfort in that.”
“Logan…” Tears ran from Jessie’s eyes. She wiped them away as he watched.
“When I reached their room I saw more of what I’d mistaken for grease on the door handle, and I twisted the knob and pushed the door open.”
Logan gasped for breath as he recalled the scent, as clear now as it had been that frightful day all those years ago.
“A waft of air hit me, carrying the scent of iron.” Needing her strength, he stared into Jessie’s soul. “Turns out blood does have a scent, especially if there’s a lot of it. I stepped into the entryway of their large bedroom and then advanced slowly into the room, my mind screaming all the way. Something caught my peripheral vision and my head involuntarily turned and my eyes beheld the gruesome sight that will haunt me for the rest of my life.”
He shuddered, and Jessie quivered in response.
“My parents hadn’t just been murdered, they’d been mutilated.” His breath had gone ragged. “There were lacerations on their bodies, and cuts of all sizes, actual places that were sliced open and”—his voice hitched and he released it on a choke—“parts of their bodies had been removed.”
His body tensed, and he sensed his eyes glaze over as he was catapulted back in time into that scared, helpless ten-year-old boy. His body began to tremble, back in that room, back with that smell. He was alone and frightened. He was trapped just as he had been that fateful day—rendered immobile by pain and the barbaric cruelty of murderous thugs. His body was no longer under his command. Sheer terror had wrapped its claws around his neck, choking him and cloaking him in agony.
Jessie came up on her knees in the chair, straddling his thighs. She took his cheeks in her hands and softly kissed his face. She whispered, “I’m here, Logan. I’m here.” She held and rocked his upper body tenderly. “Come back to me.” She took his bottom lip into her mouth and sucked. He was aware of her unclasping the clip holding her hair back and pulling the thick curtain over her shoulders. Logan’s head instinctively burrowed into her neck, and a waterfall of liquid copper surrounded him, drenching him in apples and cinnamon,
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