Fourth Period Hell Room
The Bloody TruthI was across the street from Mrs. Gibbons’ house, but I still felt like I was being followed. I take a quick glance over my shoulder to see if the Corvette was following me. It wasn’t there. I walked across the street and walked up the doorsteps to her house and knocked on the door. When I knocked the door slowly opened, and I thought that Mr. Gibbons left the door open and the door didn’t catch. It’s a simple mistake the people do. I slowly opened the door and placed my book bag by the door way.
“Mrs. Gibbons!” I called closing the door.
There was no answer. The house was very silent, but this was a silence that was scaring me. I walked around the house in the awkward silence and a bad feeling in my gut. I walked in the kitchen and there was a mess all over the place. Dishes were on the ground broken into pieces and furniture was out of place. There had to have been a fight in here, but I can’t imagine Mr. and Mrs. Gibbons arguing at all. Every year of open house Ms. Gibbons brought Mr. Gibbons and the smile they would have on their face were as permanent as spray paint on a bare wall. I continued investigating the house calling Mrs. Gibbons hoping to get a response or at least a sound telling me that she was home. I walked out of the destroyed kitchen and looked over at the stair case leading to the second floor. There was blood drops on the stair case, and I thought that maybe somebody got hurt with the dishes and had went up stairs to the bathroom to clean themselves up. I slowly walked upstairs and followed the blood drops to the next floor. Every step that I was taking my heart was racing faster than a NASCAR engine, and my stomach pain was burning and spinning. I never had been exposed to things like this. I was looking at things that didn’t match Mrs. Gibbons at all and didn’t know what to think.
I reach the next floor of the house and seen more blood on the floor than it was on the stairs and there were fingerprints on the walls leading to a closet door. I was scared. I didn’t know either to look at what was inside the door or to call the police. But if I did, they were going to arrest me for trespassing, and I don’t want to go to jail for checking on my teacher. I walked slowly to the closet door and my heart was almost about to jump out of my heart. Just as I was about to reach for the doorknob; my cell phone ring scaring the life out of me. It was Jake calling; he was probably calling me to tell me he made it home, so I answered.
“Hey, man, I just got inside. Hey you remember that Corvette you showed me earlier?” he asked.
“Yeah what about it?” I said turning away from the closet door.
“Well whoever it was driving it was following me home. I took like all types of crazy routes hoping to dodge it, but it was still on my tail.”
“Did you call the cops at least?” I asked.
“They got a car going around my block and yours. Hopefully it scared him off.” He said “did you talk to Mrs. Gibbons yet”
I wanted to tell him what was going on, but if I did he would have freaked out and told his mom. Then, his mom would have told my mom and I would be in trouble.
“No, I haven’t seen her yet.” I said hesitantly.
“Alright well let me know if anything happens.”
“Alright,” I said hanging up the phone.
I turn my attention back to the closet door. I walked back toward it and reached for the doorknob. I slowly turned the knob, and pulled the door open. Out of nowhere the door swings open and a body falls to the floor. It was Mr. Gibbons in a pool of his own blood. He had a cut just where his throat was and blood was all over his clothes and body. I wanted to puke. The smell was too rancid and I was scared beyond my mind. I didn’t know to do I couldn’t do anything. He was gone. It was hard for me to conclude that Mrs. Gibbons was the person that had murdered her husband. She might have killed him and left the school because the police would have been all over her. This all didn’t make sense. Why would she kill her own husband? I looked further down the hall and saw more blood on a bedroom doorway. I walked inside the bedroom and I couldn’t believe it, Mrs. Gibbons was in the bed in a bloody mess of her own. She was dead too. The room was a complete mess, there was a pile of dirty bloody clothes on the floor and I looked in the closet and half the closet was empty. I looked over at Mrs. Gibbons and I ran out of the house. I grabbed my bag from the door way, and took off slamming the door behind me. I ran across the street without paying attention, and I landed on the hood of a car. The car stopped as I fell to the ground and rolled over to my stomach. I wasn’t hurt too badly, I my legs were just a little sore. I hear the door of the driver’s car shut, and footsteps coming my way.
“Hey man, what the hell were you thinking running into the streets like that?” he asked turning me over to my back. “Ericson!” he cried.
I opened my eyes and see that it was an old friend, John Wellers. He and I were good friends in grade school until he started hanging around the wrong people. As soon as we left grade school, we were two completely different people. He was wearing a pair of steel-toed boots, dark blue jeans with a chain hanging from the side, a MetaSkullz t-shirt and a black leather vest.
“Dude, what the hell are you doing over here? And why are you jumping in traffic like a stunt dummy?” he asked.
“I was just in the neighborhood—“I said.
“Yeah, yeah.” He said extending his hand to help me up.
I grabbed his hand and he helped me get back to my feet. He walked me over to his car and told me to get in. He starts the engine and the radio was blasting Avenged Sevenfold. He turns the volume down and parks on a local block. He puts the car in park and shuts the engine off. I was still shaken up from what I witnessed in Mrs. Gibbons house. John looked at me and knew that there was something wrong.
“What’s wrong, did I hit you a little too hard?” he asked.
“No….no you didn’t. It’s just….” I couldn’t speak; it was like my tongue was rotating one way, while my stomach was going the other war.
I asked him to unlock the door , and I opened the door and puked all over the curb. John taps me on the shoulder while I was puking with a towel in his hand.
“Here I only use it to dry my car, bro.” he said.
I took the towel and began cleaning my face. John’s concerns were doubled after he seen me puke.
“Alright, Randy, we known each other since the third grade. Just tell me what happened cause it had to have been something before I almost made you road kill.” He said
I finished wiping my mouth and took a deep breath. I had to tell someone what I saw in the house, but what if he didn’t believe me. I had to take the risk and tell him. If he didn’t believe me I was back to square one and have to keep this to myself.
“I was just visiting Mrs. Gibbons, and I saw something that kind of freaked me out.” I started.
“What was it?” he asked.
“I……I saw broken dishes…..and blood and it was awful, man.”
“What happened?” he asked.
“I think Mrs. Gibbons killed her husband…….and then killed herself.” I said.
There was an awkward silence in the car, and John had this look on his face and I couldn’t decide whether if he believed what was going on or not.
“So, you’re telling me that Mrs. Gibbons, the nicest teacher in our school, killed her husband and herself?” he asked.
“Yeah, I’ve seen the bodies myself. I know it sounds crazy but it’s true.” I cried.
“I have to see this myself, bro, this is just too hard to believe. Where is the house?” he asked turning on the car’s engine.
“Just around the corner from here, the third house on the left.” I replied.
We pull around the corner, and park a house away from the house. We both exit the car and my stomach begins to turn again.
“Is this the place?” he asked pointing at the house.
“Yeah….it is.” I replied.
We walk up the doorsteps and I turn the doorknob and the door was locked this time.
“I slam it shut after I saw the bodies.” I explained.
John pulls out a Boy Scout knife and picks the lock open. He walks in without any hesitation and calls for Mrs. Gibbons. I pointed in the kitchen and showed him the broken dishes and moved furniture.
“Whatever you do in her Randy, don’t touch anything. As soon as the cops get your prints they will be all over you like ink on paper.” John said.
He observed the way the kitchen was “redecorated” and could tell that there had been a fight here. I showed him the stair case where all the blood was starting to track. We walked up the stair and Mr. Gibbons body was still on the floor. John pulls out a pair of leather gloves and look at the wound on his neck.
“Yeah, you’re right. The way his throat was sliced open he was killed alright. Where was Mrs. Gibbon’s body?” he asked.
I pointed to the bedroom where I last saw her body. We walk inside and the body was still in the bed. He looks at the half empty closet and the mess that was left in the room.
“Well either one of two things happened here. Either she was packing her clothes to get out of town after she whacked her old man, or he was going to kick her out.” He explained.
He walked over to her body and there was a gunshot wound near the temple of her head.
“Now this is weird.” He said looking around the room.
“What?” I asked.
“If she shot herself in the head, her gun would be near her body still.” He explained.
“Where’s the gun?” I asked.
“Not in this room apparently, and plus she would have had a knife with her too. An army knife would have put a big slice through her old man’s neck.” He replied.
“So what are you saying?” I asked
“Mr. and Mrs. Gibbons weren’t fighting. They were both killed by someone else’s hands.”