Entry #2

The original murders of Buck’s Bend took place in 2002, so naturally our story starts there.

 On the morning of June 12th, 2002, I woke up to the smell of bacon filling the air throughout my house. I instantly jumped out of bed, rushing to get to the food before my brother, Arlo. Around the time I got to the top of the stairs, I heard his door open behind me. I turned to look at him, and for a moment, our eyes met. And with that tiny glance, I knew one thing; his fatass was going to try and eat every single piece of bacon. I jumped down the stairs 3 at a time, and landed roughly at the bottom. I bustled down the hallway towards the kitchen, my heart beating slightly faster with every one of Arlos footsteps behind me.       

Making my way through the kitchen doorway, I noticed the smell of scrambled eggs mixing with the aroma of the bacon. As I sprinted into the kitchen, I saw my mom in the corner of the room taking her medication. When she noticed me running through the doorway, her tan face lit up with happiness. I didn't stop to wait for one of her famous hugs, which I saw her going for, because I knew Arlo wasn't far behind me. I located the plate of bacon, sitting on the kitchen table next to my moms purse, and I pounced on it.

 Just when I got the first piece of bacon to my lips, I heard Arlo shouting, “Hey, get off me, he's going to eat it all.” 

He was right. And apparently he wasn't as observant as I was, because I turned and saw him wrapped in my moms skinny arms. By the time my mom let him go, he was covered in kiss shaped lipstick marks, and I was covered in bacon grease.

 For the next 10 minutes or so, Arlo bitched and complained until Mom, still with a smile, agreed to make more bacon.    

Unfortunately, she had already made all the bacon that we had, so she told Arlo, ”I'll have to run to the store to get some more though, so you are going to have to make the biscuits.” 

He groaned. “Make Auggie do it. I can go with you to the store.” 

She looked at him and raised her eyebrows before speaking. “Do you really think that letting an 8 year old work an oven is a smart idea?”

It was, admittedly, a stupid idea. Even Arlo knew she wasn't going to make me do it, considering that I'd never once used the oven. 

He posed a different compromise by asking, ”Won’t dad be home soon? Can’t you just ask him to grab the bacon on his way home? That way you can stay home.” 

He has a surprisingly hopeful look on his face. He didn't make this request just to get out of making the biscuits, he also didn't want her to go by herself. And I knew why he didn't want her to go. It was because of the murders. They had been on everyone's minds recently, not just Arlo’s. 

Over the last 2 months, there had been 3 murders in the small town. For a town with a population of around 3,500 at the time, 3 murders in two months is freaky. When the first murder happened, everyone had thought it was just a spousal disagreement gone wrong, resulting in the 22 year old woman's death. But then the second body appeared a few weeks later. This time, the victim had been a 32 year old man. This death caused significantly more panic than the first had, because now everyone was a potential victim. Soon after that murder, they had found a 17 year old kid nearly beheaded.

 More recently however, there was the discovery of the 58 year old man that had been disemboweled and left in a ditch near the lighthouse. I remembered some of the other kids saying that all the murders had stuff in common, so they knew it was all the same person. All of the killings were done with a knife, and all the bodies had been found inside or nearby the lighthouse.

 None of this seemed to bother my mom, however, and she showed this by going out and about as much as she normally did. 

As Arlo and Mom went back and forth, I had let my greasy hands wander into my moms purse. I was rummaging around, looking for some quarters to use at the movie theater arcade when, suddenly, I felt something squishy, wrapped in what felt like tin foil. I pulled it out and immediately got hit by the smell of vinegar. Bacon and vinegar are not a good combination of smells. I heard a gasp from somewhere behind me, and felt my mom grab the tin foil out of my hand.  My head automatically turned towards my Moms, and she met my eyes. She had, what I would later realize was, a mix of shame and hunger in her eyes. The anxious curiosity that defined me flared, which caused me to start asking about the tin foil, but the question died in my throat when I turned and saw my brother's face. The pure disgust and rage displayed on his face would have been enough to make even a saint feel like they just did something wrong. But then the expression, as quick as it had appeared, had vanished. All the tension in the room was gone, and the moment had passed.

 My mom reached for me, and this time she didn't miss. She hugged me so tight that my face was a violent shade of purple by the time she let me go. She reached over me to grab her purse, making sure to add another lipstick mark to Arlo’s cheek before leaving the kitchen. As she walked down the hallway, I heard her start singing “Fallin” by Alicia Keys. Her beautiful voice was heard all the way to the front door, before the sound of the door closing cut off the singing.

That would be the last time that I ever saw my mother.