![\"Sparkle\"](\"https:\/\/i0.wp.com\/www.everywritersresource.com\/selfpublished\/wp-content\/uploads\/2015\/05\/sparkle_rudyyuly1.jpg?resize=200%2C259\")
Author<\/h2>\nRudy Yuly<\/p>\n
Rudy Yuly is a Seattle-based journalist and musician, who’s written music for Joan Jett and the Blackhearts, Tiny Hat Orchestra, and Empire Way. He co-authored The World Business Desk Reference, and has served as editorial consultant and ghostwriter for more than a dozen novels and nonfiction books. Sparkle is his first novel. The second novel in the series is scheduled for release at Thrillerfest in NYC in July 2015.<\/p>\n
Death is in the news every day, and if people stop to give it a second thought they most likely think of the void left in the lives of the living, the emotional mess it creates when someone dies or is killed. Very few people, however, think about the nuts and bolts of death-the literal mess it makes. Brothers Joe and Eddie Jones have not only thought about it, they’ve made it their business. Literally. Sparkle Cleaners, their Seattle-based janitorial service, specializes in crime scene cleanups. Theirs is a unique tag team, with Joe acting as the face of the business and Eddie the actual cleanup man. And anyone who’s ever used Sparkle Cleaners will tell you, no one can clean a crime scene like Eddie.<\/p>\n
He’s so good, Sparkle Cleaners gets the inside line on jobs from members of the Seattle PD, including Detectives Louis and Bjorgesen. When they call Joe to schedule the cleanup of a triple murder-a husband, wife, and their six-year-old daughter-they couldn’t possibly have foreseen the chain of events that would unfold…or that it would get even more complicated when Sparkle is assigned to the cleanup of a seemingly unrelated massacre of six people at a club in Chinatown.<\/p>\n
But what no one knows, not even Joe, is that Eddie’s gift goes far beyond being able to erase the physical signs of death. Due to a trauma the two suffered when they were young children, Eddie has retreated into his own little world, one which presents to everyone else as severe autism. But while people think Eddie is virtually uncommunicative, what they don’t realize is that he communicates with the dead. At every cleanup scene he encounters the spirit\/ghost of the person who died, and only by his erasing the physical signs of their death are they able to move on to the next world.<\/p>\n
Things get weird, even for Eddie, when at the scene of the triple homicide the young girl refuses to leave even after Eddie’s finished cleaning. Not only does she refuse to leave, she reveals to Eddie a piece of evidence the police missed, and makes him promise to “make the catch.” Eddie tries to ignore the situation, but when it happens again at the Chinatown club he knows he must act, and in doing so is forced to confront the very trauma from his past which bestowed his gift upon him.<\/p>\n
Rudy Yuly has created something very special in Sparkle, a book which works on several different levels. First and foremost, this story is about relationships: brother to brother, partner to partner, man to woman, living to dead. It’s about what ties people to one another-be it love or loyalty or obligation-and what happens when events occur which stress those ties that bind. Joe wants to be a good brother, knows Eddie needs him, but still can’t help but resent him a little for putting Joe in a situation where he can’t lead a normal life because of Eddie’s condition.<\/p>\n
Yuly exquisitely captures the frustration and awkwardness the brothers feel trying to deal with one another, as well as that which they both encounter while interacting with the women in their lives: Joe with a waitress at his favorite bar whom he’s desperately attracted to, Eddie with the worker at the zoo who takes him on a tour every Saturday as part of his rigid routine. Having dealt mostly with only each other for decades, their social skills-though for very different reasons-are highly suspect, and painfully realistically portrayed by Yuly.<\/p>\n
The book also unfurls two different mysteries over the course of the story, that of who killed the victims at the two cleanup sites, as well as what exactly happened to Joe and Eddie when they were kids that caused Eddie to retreat into his private world. Yuly doles out clues to the killer’s identity and motives, and flashbacks to that fateful day in the boys’ lives, at just the right pace, slowly and confidently weaving all the treads together to create a complete tapestry. Yuly even manages to throw in a little curve at the end, one which only adds to the book’s overall reflection on relationships and the impact death can have on the living.<\/p>\n
As soon as the front door clicked shut behind Joe, Eddie let himself open slightly to what was in the house.<\/p>\n
A bittersweet sensation seeped in. Pain, utter loss, and helplessness all stirred together with a tingling impression of being intensely alive, powerful, and without limits.<\/p>\n
Ordinarily Eddie didn\u2019t experience emotion, at least the way most people understand emotion. Even now, the sensation was primarily mental, as though he were standing outside watching it happen to someone else. That didn\u2019t detract from its power. He forced himself to keep most of it out. He wasn\u2019t entirely ready.<\/p>\n
Eddie gently removed his anti-splatter face shield. He carefully stripped and folded the white Tyvek hazmat coverall. Eddie always suited up by the book. Occupational Safety and Health Administration 29 CFR Part 1910. Bloodborne Pathogen standard, 1910.1030. Respiratory Protection standard, 1910.134. Hazard Communication standard, 1910.1200. He knew the regulations by heart. Word for word.<\/p>\n
He let Joe check him to make sure he was properly protected, even though his brother hadn\u2019t taken the course. It was worth it to make Joe feel better.<\/p>\n
But regardless of what the rules said, Eddie couldn\u2019t work covered up. Too much information got blocked. Once Joe had left, Eddie took the gear off as carefully as he\u2019d put it on, until he was down to the outfit he always worked in: white boxer shorts, T-shirt, socks, and sneakers. For protection he wore kneepads and surgical rubber gloves. Sometimes even the gloves were too much\u2014but Eddie was committed to following the spirit, if not the letter, of the law. He would limit his direct contact with bodily fluids.<\/p>\n
He was well aware of his transgression. But what he had to do was private. And what Joe didn\u2019t know couldn\u2019t hurt him. Eddie\u2019s arrangement with Joe made sure that Eddie wouldn\u2019t get caught. Joe never came back into a job without knocking first and getting Eddie\u2019s permission to enter.<\/p>\n
Eddie had locked the door behind him at his first blood job, and Joe had come back a little before five, worried and then angry when Eddie wouldn\u2019t answer his increasingly urgent knocking and ringing the bell. After ten minutes Joe was at the boiling point, ready to kick in the door.<\/p>\n
Eddie opened it in his face, fully suited up. He pulled down his mask, looked his brother directly in the eye for the first time in recent memory, and said, clear and plain, \u201cMan-sized mess, Joe. You don\u2019t come in until I\u2019m done. Never never never. Knock again at five.\u201d<\/p>\n
Then he\u2019d quietly closed the door and left Joe stunned at the quiet click of the lock. It was the longest original speech Eddie had put together in at least a couple of years, and Joe got the message. It didn\u2019t pay to tangle with Eddie when he set his will to something that strongly. As long as Eddie got the job done, one more idiosyncrasy was no skin off Joe\u2019s nose.<\/p>\n
From that day on, whatever Eddie did on the inside was his own business. And Joe made sure no one else bothered his brother, either.<\/p>\n
Eddie pulled a brand-new, economy-sized spray bottle of Shiny Gold all-purpose cleaner from his canvas Mariners bag. The bottle looked alive: potent, warm, blue, and beautiful. It seemed to breathe. Eddie appreciated it with a gratitude that was new each time. Shiny Gold made his work\u2014his vitally important work\u2014possible.<\/p>\n
Shiny Gold. Eddie heard the happy music of the Shiny Gold television commercial rise up and move to the forefront of his consciousness. The simple jingle had been cheering him on ever since he was a kid.<\/p>\n
He tapped himself gently on the head with the bottle. His big brown eyes fluttered and closed. He willed his brain to empty itself. His head dropped slightly, his breath slowed, and he braced himself for the shock of raw information he knew was coming. As soon as he fully opened up he would be flooded with sensation, hit with a huge blast of unfiltered truth about what had happened here. Not becoming overwhelmed would require complete openness and trust.<\/p>\n
The only thing Eddie allowed to stay in his brain was the Shiny Gold jingle. \u201cIf you\u2019ve got a mess too big to hold, just grab a bottle of Shiny Gold!\u201d would ring pleasantly, protectively through his head until the work was done. It acted almost like a brake, keeping the potentially overwhelming sensations manageable. It gave him something else to focus on.<\/p>\n
Even on ordinary days, Eddie\u2019s sleepy hazel eyes fed information to his brain in ways most people experienced only intermittently, if at all. He had almost no depth perception; there was often no near or far. This could be problematic at times, but for his work it was extremely useful. Everything Eddie could see was right here, everywhere, just within reach. The storm outside, with its charging clouds and slanting mists of rain framed by one enormous picture window, was just as close and real as the stubborn remains of violence in the room.<\/p>\n
On most days, Eddie\u2019s senses did have one thing in common with those of ordinary people: they blocked far more information than they let in.<\/p>\n
Most people have no idea that they\u2019re essentially wearing blinders, with only one small crack for the light to come through, while the other 99.9 percent remains unseen. Even that small sliver carries too much information to process, so the brain heavily filters and edits what\u2019s left.<\/p>\n
It\u2019s a mercy, really. Being conscious of much more would be disaster. The endless light-waves of brilliant snapping ultraviolet and deep booming infrared, the radio signals, cell phone transmissions, x-rays, and all the rest relentlessly zipping, flashing, and bursting through the air would drive any normal person mad.<\/p>\n
Still, there are times when some of that extra information can really help.<\/p>\n
When cleaning up blood, for instance. Just as soldiers use longer-than-visible-wavelength infrared goggles to see in the dark, forensic scientists and crime scene cleaners often use shorter-than-visible-wavelength ultraviolet lamps. Black lights.<\/p>\n
Joe, trying to be helpful and cutting edge, had bought a commercial black light and ultraviolet goggles for Eddie a while back. Eddie tried them, but only once. They made splats of blood pop out from the background in almost 3-D relief. It wasn\u2019t that different from what he saw when he fully sank into his cleaning trance. But they also blocked a huge amount of other information he could see on his own.<\/p>\n
And they made his head hurt.<\/p>\n
Eddie thought of his gift as simply an ability to see differently than ordinary people.<\/p>\n
But it was much more than that. His nose, for instance, was even more important to his work than his eyes. Eddie had always been extra sensitive to smells. And smell, even in ordinary people, is an underrated sense. Very average noses consistently\u2014and unconsciously\u2014sense fear or desire in total strangers. Tiny infants can sniff out their mothers without fail, and blindfolded moms can easily tell their own babies from all others. Most importantly, powerful smells, far more than any other sensory information, can awaken long-dormant memories and emotions, creating an instant, overwhelming sensation of being transported to another place and time.<\/p>\n
It was like that for Eddie. The smell of blood did something amazing to him. Once he had singled it out, unlike any other odor, it acted as a trigger. His perception shifted, the world changed utterly, and otherwise undetectable sensations bloomed and exploded into a fantastic symphony of information.<\/p>\n
But the most delicious feeling to Eddie was how all of his senses would melt into one. Sight, smell, taste, touch, hearing, sense of time and space, intuition, all together. Indistinguishable.<\/p>\n
Most days Eddie had a hard time stringing together more than four or five words. He couldn\u2019t explain what he experienced when he was left alone in a room full of blood. He knew he had a special gift. But how it worked was no one else\u2019s business. Not even Joe\u2019s.<\/p>\n
Now, Eddie slowly opened his eyes to a new world. He took two or three deep, energizing breaths. The furniture, the pictures, the mantel\u2014everything in the room\u2014had lost definition, except for the splotches of blood, which wavered and glowed as if they were floating very slightly away from whatever surface they had landed on. All throughout the room, there were no edges, only a bright center where the victims had fallen. Eddie knew their spirits were still here, confused and stuck.<\/p>\n
As he gazed quietly at the room, he felt the physical distinction between him, the room, the sky, and the spirits of the dead unraveling. It was revealing itself\u2014as it always did when he worked\u2014to be an illusion. Soon Eddie would be able to move and act in a realm that was real to him alone. The traces people left behind became animated as ghosts, acting out their grim final moments over and over, until Eddie washed it all away and made the place peaceful and whole again.<\/p>\n
In the last second before he moved in, something thumped hot and deep in Eddie\u2019s heart, and he felt his mother\u2019s presence. It was not a good feeling. It had a nagging quality, a hard reminder of something he could never remember. He had to wait until it faded and the pounding quieted. It didn\u2019t take long, but it happened before every job.<\/p>\n
Eddie failed to anticipate it every time.<\/p>\n
Once the sensation started, though, Eddie knew how to wait it out, gently but persistently pushing against it with the Shiny Gold jingle until it faded away. It would not hinder his work, and he knew when it had passed. He always took one deep involuntary breath, like a sigh.<\/p>\n
\u201cBye-bye stains.\u201d<\/p>\n
Eddie moved through the room slowly, pushing through the vivid sensations as though he were underwater. Three victims. A family.<\/p>\n
He turned and caught a glimpse of himself in the huge gilt-framed mirror on the wall.<\/p>\n
The reflection looking back at him was six years old. He stared at the image quizzically for a moment. There was a faint, gauzy blue form behind him. It looked like a little girl. He didn\u2019t see a face or any features. The image was too vague and indistinct. But Eddie realized she was crying.<\/p>\n
Eddie was especially eager to help her. He could feel that her spirit was confused and not ready to move on. But he had to do everything in the right order. He couldn\u2019t hurry, and he couldn\u2019t skip any steps.<\/p>\n
Eddie felt a strong residue of evil in the house, but he wasn\u2019t too worried about that. It was all too familiar. In a way, it was almost as if the same person had committed every crime he\u2019d ever experienced. Even the suicides. Or different individuals blurred into the same shape by the force that infected them. He knew it couldn\u2019t hurt him. He wasn\u2019t capable of feeling fear anyway, and he knew from experience that the evil force, whatever it was, would simply go away, starved, once he properly did his job. Although the evil was often a serious distraction, sometimes almost to the point of being painful, Eddie had learned that the best course was simply to ignore it and focus on the victims.<\/p>\n
If there had been any throw rugs or carpets in the house, they had already been removed, along with most of the furniture. All Eddie had to take care of were the walls and floors. He walked into the room very slowly, feeling his way in like a dowser. When he reached the perfect spot, he fell to his knees, sprayed Shiny Gold, and began scrubbing the hardwood floor.<\/p>\n
Eddie scrubbed lightly but rapidly. He was perfectly aware that scrubbing wasn\u2019t a great way to clean up blood. Not this much. Blood is a tough substance to clean, sticky and deeply penetrating. He\u2019d eventually have to put in earplugs and fire up the excessively heavy, OSHA-approved, wet-dry steam-powered vacuum. It was noisy and crude. He didn\u2019t care for it at all, but it got part of the job done. The uninteresting part. And nobody was better, even at the boring stuff, than Eddie.<\/p>\n
But that would come later. First, Eddie had to get on his knees and scrub. He had to come in contact with the blood so he could get completely in tune with what had happened here. No machine could do what he could do with Shiny Gold.<\/p>\n
Looking clean was not the same thing as being clean.<\/p>\n
Eddie knew that the irresistible overwhelming impulse that killed\u2014not the killer, but the essential killing force\u2014was never satisfied with its frenzied moment of violence. Whenever it could, it stayed and fed on the victims\u2019 spirits, trapping them even after death in an unending cycle of fear and pain.<\/p>\n
That was what could make a place filthy, in a way that it could never, ever be clean again.<\/p>\n
Eddie\u2019s chosen spot wasn\u2019t far from the front door, where the father had fallen. He was nearly killed by the first blow, and after that his only thought had been a looping, panicky concern for his little girl. Mercifully, his spirit was gone now, and only that trace remained. Eddie reached out to the echo of fear with his mind. He focused his attention on one spot of the father\u2019s blood: a streaked handprint on the floor. He stroked and scrubbed until it faded away. The man was gone now. The rest of his blood was just lifeless stuff, and Eddie could clean up the bulk of it with the machine. He\u2019d go over it again by hand to get any stubborn or stray drops.<\/p>\n
Eddie stood and moved quietly to where the mother had died. Her spirit was mostly gone too, but one spot\u2014in sight of where her daughter had died\u2014fairly screamed at him. The woman had been tough, and she had paid for it with suffering. Eddie could sense her huge guilt over not being able to save her little girl. He chose a small smear and focused all of his attention on it.<\/p>\n
It had been made by her hand, and it looked like the outline of a bird.<\/p>\n
As he focused, Eddie captured a quiet sense of the happiness this woman had felt for much of her life. She had been an optimistic, trusting, and positive person. Eddie concentrated on that, drew it toward him, and willed it to grow stronger, ignoring the scream until it faded and shrank. He promised to take care of the little girl, sprayed the blot with Shiny Gold, and carefully wiped it clean.<\/p>\n
The scream died away. Now Eddie could use the machine here, too. The rest of the mother\u2019s blood was just blood, completely devoid of spirit.<\/p>\n
Anybody could clean it up.<\/p>\n
The next part would be challenging and delicate. The girl\u2019s spirit was still in the room, with a stronger presence than Eddie usually experienced. She clearly hadn\u2019t expected to die, and she didn\u2019t understand death now. She was frightened, lost and confused. Eddie tenderly knelt down by the splayed chalk outline of her body.<\/p>\n
He chose a single tiny bloom next to where her head had come to rest. \u201cShiny Gold,\u201d he said softly, and sprayed the cleaner.<\/p>\n
When Eddie touched the blood, an electric shock ran up his arm. He flinched slightly at the surprising pain, but he didn\u2019t stop.<\/p>\n
Mom. Dad. Mom. Dad.<\/p>\n
Eddie reached out with his mind to let her know that her mom and dad had gone, and that she should go, too. He had no idea where his victims went, but he was certain that it was a much better place than the scene of their deaths.<\/p>\n
\u201cShiny Gold.\u201d Louder, now. Eddie closed his eyes for a moment and concentrated all his energy on breaking through the girl\u2019s looping, nauseating fear. He caught a flicker of how joyful she had been during her life. He put all his energy into that. He realized something about her and tried to help her understand, too: the horror had really been only the briefest moment in her otherwise peaceful, blessed time on earth. There was nothing to worry about here. Nothing to worry about ever. And something wonderful, Eddie was sure, to go toward.<\/p>\n
\u201cShiny Gold.\u201d The words cut cleanly through the air, deep and resonant, as Eddie\u2019s confidence peaked. He would take care of everything.<\/p>\n
Something clicked in his head, and Eddie looked at his watch. Noon. Time for lunch. As if a switch had been thrown, Eddie\u2019s perceptions of the spirits in the room faded, and the Shiny Gold music in his head grew louder. He would help the girl when he was done.<\/p>\n
Eddie allowed himself a precise fifteen minutes for lunch. The Shiny Gold music played loudly while he ate. Otherwise, in his altered state, he would not have touched the peanut butter and jelly sandwich, apple, and chocolate milk he always found in his brown bag. Too much information about the victims would capture and hold him.<\/p>\n
But as the music played comfortingly, the room looked almost normal again, spiritless and quiet enough. Eddie could plainly hear the raindrops hit the big windows that looked out over the bay, each drop a distinct and separate sound. He was confident he could calculate their number if he had a reason.<\/p>\n
After he was done eating and had put away his things properly, Eddie stood silently for a moment and let the music fade. He could hear a little girl crying softly, and as he looked toward the place where she had died, he could see her body start to emerge, vague and pale. This was not unusual. He was used to seeing shades of the dead. When they left the room, he knew all was well again.<\/p>\n
But what happened next had never happened before. As Eddie concentrated on the little girl, the room shuddered violently and she was suddenly solid, real as life. She sat up, covered with blood.<\/p>\n
The shock of it was so great that Eddie didn\u2019t entirely realize what was happening.<\/p>\n
His first thought was that she was a real mess, but he didn\u2019t know what to do about it. Cleaning floors was one thing. Spraying Shiny Gold on a little girl, dead or alive, was clearly out of the question.<\/p>\n
Without breathing, his already heightened senses stretched to the limit, Eddie moved to her. He felt as though he were being pushed from behind and had no sensation of his legs moving.<\/p>\n
The little girl looked up at him and stopped crying with a suddenness that was jarring.<\/p>\n
\u201cMy name is Lucy.\u201d<\/p>\n
Eddie was used to accepting whatever came his way during a cleaning, but this was off the charts. There was something vaguely, nauseatingly familiar about the girl, something about the situation that triggered an ominous vibration at a deep, hidden frequency.<\/p>\n
Eddie rarely made eye contact with anyone for more than a fraction of a second, but his wide hazel-brown eyes were dragged to the little girl\u2019s vivid blues and he could not tear them away.<\/p>\n
\u201cWhy?\u201d she asked. \u201cWhy did this happen?\u201d<\/p>\n
The question hit Eddie like a hammer\u2014but the place it hit him was hard as rock. It hurt bad, hurt his head with physical pain, but it didn\u2019t penetrate, didn\u2019t sink in.<\/p>\n
With an effort, Eddie squeezed his eyes closed against the pain. After a long moment, he opened them and risked a glance around. The rest of the room had misted out entirely\u2014but the girl was still solid and real, unmoving. She stared into him, waiting for an answer.<\/p>\n
\u201cYou never know,\u201d he said finally. It was always hard for Eddie to speak. Hard to form the words and harder to get them out. It was nearly impossible now, but the words came gagging up of their own volition.<\/p>\n
What he wanted to say was that Lucy needed to go away, needed to go to the good place, and that he was just there to help her do that. He had only one job to do\u2014only one job he could do. That job was cleaning, not answering questions. He had to clean, and he had only so much time.<\/p>\n
\u201cYou do know,\u201d she said. \u201cYou know way more than you say.\u201d<\/p>\n
It was another blow, harder than the first, and Eddie felt himself stagger. He knelt on the floor next to the girl, close enough to touch her.<\/p>\n
\u201cI need to know. I need to know why this happened,\u201d she said.<\/p>\n
\u201cYou never know.\u201d Eddie\u2019s face was as impassive, his words as forced and uninflected as always, but he felt as if he were falling backward into himself, with nothing to grab to stop his plunge.<\/p>\n
\u201cYou have to find out. You have to tell me why. You have to make the catch.\u201d<\/p>\n
Her words began to echo, over and over. Eddie closed his eyes again, his hands pressed hard against his head. Make the catch? What did that mean?<\/p>\n
\u201cYou never know. You should \u2026 just let go.\u201d The words were vaguely familiar, but Eddie wasn\u2019t sure where they\u2019d come from.<\/p>\n
\u201cI can\u2019t. I\u2019m stuck here. I\u2019m scared. You have to help me go. You have to tell me why. You have to make the catch.\u201d<\/p>\n
There was nothing Eddie wanted more than to help her go. But if he didn\u2019t do it in his ordinary\u2014extraordinary\u2014way, he had no idea how to proceed.<\/p>\n
\u201cI have something for you,\u201d Lucy said. \u201cTake it. Take it. Take it and promise me.\u201d<\/p>\n
Eddie didn\u2019t want it, whatever it was, but he couldn\u2019t help himself. The girl held out a closed, bruised little fist to him, and he saw his outstretched palm go toward her. His rubber glove looked disembodied. He couldn\u2019t feel it. It was as though it belonged to someone else.<\/p>\n
She put something into his hand, and it burned like fire as he closed around it.<\/p>\n
He tried to pull his hand away but couldn\u2019t. It was held by an irresistible force that almost seemed to emanate from inside his body.<\/p>\n
\u201cPromise.\u201d<\/p>\n
Eddie hated to make promises. You never knew where they might lead, and they never let you go until they were fulfilled. A promise was a bond.<\/p>\n
But hadn\u2019t he, in a way, promised to get this place cleaned up no matter what? If this little girl got stuck, he would have failed\u2014for the first time ever. That was simply not acceptable.<\/p>\n
\u201cThis will help you. You\u2019ll find out. Then you\u2019ll tell me. You\u2019ll tell me the truth. You have to make the catch. Promise.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cI\u2019m \u2026 just a cleaner,\u201d he forced the words to come. His voice was flat, but every nerve in his body was protesting. Why did she want to know about what was over and done? This wasn\u2019t right. \u201cYou never know.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cTake it,\u201d the girl said. \u201cPromise.\u201d<\/p>\n
Like a puppet, Eddie felt his lips move and spoke without meaning. \u201cUh-huh,\u201d he said. \u201cOkay.\u201d<\/p>\n
Eddie\u2019s hand was suddenly free. He didn\u2019t look at what Lucy had given him. He didn\u2019t want to. He felt himself grabbing his glove at the wrist and pulling it off inside out, so the object was inside. He hoped against hope that what had just happened wasn\u2019t real.<\/p>\n
He closed his eyes tightly again and waited for things to shift back to normal. But when he opened them, it was worse.<\/p>\n
The little girl was gone. Now Joe was lying in her place, six years old and covered in blood.<\/p>\n
Eddie stumbled backward. He looked at his hands. They were the hands of a small child, and they were covered with blood. He stumbled across the room and looked down to where Lucy\u2019s mom had died. His own mother, peaceful and covered with the blood he knew so well, had taken her place.<\/p>\n
He desperately didn\u2019t want to look at the dad, but there was no stopping it. He had no control over his actions. There he was: his own father, lying dead.<\/p>\n
Eddie fell to the floor and, with a relief as sweet as anything he had ever experienced, felt things go black.<\/p>\n
http:\/\/rudyyuly.weebly.com\/<\/p>\n