The Silic house, outwardly, was dark and uninhabited, save the car parked in the driveway. Not that anyone was paying attention. Anyone who passed by was either hurrying home before nightfall or lost in their own private daydreams of blood and slaughter and pain. Some were already on their way to insanity, but these were not quite as far down the track as Jordan was, or they would have smelled the pain leaking from his house and been drawn to it like vultures to carrion.
Inside, Jordan took a breather. They had a fridge in the garage, and his father had always kept it very well stocked with beer. He was halfway through the first slab, but he’d been feeling drunk before he’d even started on it. The smell of blood was rich enough to taste in the air, and his head was spinning pleasantly.
‘I’m going to hurt both of you today.’ Jordan said, sipping a beer. ‘Real bad.’ He was sitting on the front of the corvette. Neither of his parents answered. He thought his mother might be unconscious – her head was hanging on her chest. His father just looked dead to the world. Jordan had cut his nose off with the saw and written his name with his long nails in his father’s chest, deep enough to see parts of his ribcage.
‘After that, I’m going to kill as many of the motherfuckers that did this to me – I’m going to kill as many of them as I can. But you’re first. You’re definitely first.’ He chuckled, and sipped more of his beer. When he looked at his father again, Frank Silic had fixed him with one slit eye full of hate.
Jordan decided, when he next got hungry, he was going to cut that one out.