The Smell of Death: The Metal Door

Adrian stopped talking for a second; his eyes watered up. He was lost for words. Now it makes sense why he couldn’t remember his mother's face and why every time he thought about her, all he could see were shadows covering her face.

Some time passed, and neither of them said a word. Adrian looked down at his shoes, but he felt like somebody was watching him, and that somebody was. Dr. Nina looking straight at him; she never looked away, not even for a moment. That made it even harder for him; he wanted her to say something, and just like she knew it, like she could read his thoughts, she didn’t say anything.

"I’m sorry; it is very difficult to continue." Adrian finally wanted the silence to end.

"I know it is difficult, Adrian," she said, "but you have to say it. It will help you."

And even though he hated it, he knew it was true; he had to continue, and so he did.
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It was her under that linen. Her face was destroyed and swollen, just like in my nightmares. And where her beautiful blue eyes once were, there was nothing—an abyss that swallowed me whole. She had cuts all over her face, and some of her skin had peeled off. I started crying, and I cried for a long time. I was afraid; once again, fear took over. I have forgotten how it felt to be embraced by fear all the time. Everything matched; my nightmares and everything I dreamed of happened. What could that mean? Was it me who tortured and killed her? No. I could not I would never, and even if I did, I would remember. I would remember, right? No. No. No. But it could also be him; why wouldn’t it be him? What if he’s not dead?

I couldn’t stand anymore; I collapsed on the cold floor, closed my eyes, and started to think about all the possibilities that could’ve happened. It couldn’t be me; I just had dreams about it. I could never do something like this again.

So it could only be him; she had no eyes, and only he would do something like that to his victims. I knew what it meant—he is back; he would always do that—eat his victims eyes. The Crow is somehow alive, and he is back for more blood. I would know it the best; this is his work of art. I watched him do it so many times, over and over again. The music of his victims screams echoed, while The Crow, with a big smile on his face just like in my nightmares, would gouge the eyes of his victims one by one and then eat them.

But I couldn’t understand: how is he back? Just how? I know I killed him! That night, in his own torture chamber, I know I did, and now, a year later, it starts again, and it starts with my mother, and he told me so many times that he would never do anything to harm her. I don’t know what to think anymore; I don’t know anything. But one thing I did know, and that was that I must kill him again. I have to find him somehow and end it once and for all.

But then I heard something—the creak of a door opening wide. Steps. Not made by one person; there was at least one more. And it seemed as they were coming closer, the voices became louder; they were talking. I didn’t have much time; I kept myself low and hid under one of the gurneys in the back, hoping that darkness would help me hide.

I recognized the voice; it was Detective Brown, and with him was Leigh’s father. Their hushed voices cut the silence like a blade; their voices echoed, waking up the dead from their slumber.

"The body is right there, Detective." They approached my mother’s body and said, "I could swear I covered her face."

"It is very late; you must be tired." Detective Brown slightly pushed Leigh’s father aside and bent over the body.

"So you think that it is really him? He is back?"

"It would seem so," he scratched his beard, "I thought the fucker died or left, but he was only on a long holiday, it would seem."

"And you are 100% certain, maybe it is a copycat?"

"No one should know of this, his ritual. Only if someone leaked it, but we will have to investigate that too." I couldn’t really see his facial expressions; the darkness worked in my favor and against me at the same time, but at least I could hear what they talked about.

"No suspects again?" Leigh’s father sounded worried; everyone could hear the trembling in his voice, unlike Detective Brown, who didn’t give anything away.

"Oh, we had many suspects in the past, but we hit a dead end so many times that we have to work harder now; we have to catch him before he kills anyone else." I could see him covering my mother's face.
"That would be all. Thank you for letting me see her once again this late; I had to check something."

"No problem, Detective; anything to help you catch the killer."

"The autopsy report, fuck." Detective Brown was checking his pockets. "I must’ve left them back at the station. Would you mind coming back with me to get them?"

"Yes, sure, no problem. After you."

They turned off the lights completely and left me alone there, hiding. I couldn’t believe my luck. I got out of there and peeked through the window. I could see both of them getting into their cars and leaving soon after. As soon as they disappeared, I headed towards the exit, locked myself behind myself, and ran through the streets where Leigh’s father should be coming back.

I was so tired; the smell of death was still following me even after I left the morgue. At home, things didn’t get better; I couldn’t sleep, and I was afraid. Multiple times I had to check under my bed to see if he was there, if he came to kill me now for what I did to him. The scene of me killing him played repeatedly in my mind. Knocking him out and tying him up to a chair—the same chair he used to tie up people he tortured and killed so many times before—

It was raining at night, and I could hear the raindrops hitting the roof. It was so loud, I could even hear it in the basement we were in. I remember locking the metal door behind me and leaving my father's dead body in the basement.