Darkness blanketed the small western Pennsylvania town. The faint glow of morning slowly rose to the east, while the people of this town enjoyed the last few moments of blissful slumber. The flashing red light, the town's only traffic light, glowed almost ominously as its eerie red glow shone across Main Street, its only job to slow down intruders to their small town, as they made their way to the big city.

A lone vehicle made its way slowly up and down the streets of downtown. The two rookie cops patrolled the town they loved, making sure no one disrupted the quiet life they carved for themselves. Like so many officers before them, these young men had grown up here. They had been stars of the football team, married their high school sweethearts, and started their own families here; not wanting to live anywhere but here.

The patrol car crept slowly up and down the streets of their town, then men inside, quiet heroes of the night, ready to lay down their lives to protect their town, their family. In East Alleghany, a town of a mere fifteen hundred, everyone knew everyone. The old saying "It takes a Village," couldn't be more true than along these country roads. Everyone here was family, blood or otherwise.

Crime was something foreign to this town, Rape, Murder, Suicide, unforgiveable acts knew no place within the tight walls of this community. Crimes of such heinous nature plagued cities like Pittsburgh or Philadelphia. Petty theft, drunk and disorderly, teenagers joy riding, the occasional domestic disturbance; that was the evil this town felt, and like many small towns they dealt with those problems the old fashion way.

Evil hadn't found its way to their town, they took care of their own, but on this quite fall night everything would change. On this quite night they enjoyed their last few moments of sweet innocence, soon their tight knit community would be rocked to the core, pain would be left in the wake of a tragedy no one saw coming.

The black and white patrol car continued on its last sweep through town, the occupants unaware that their night was far from over. As they passed by dark home after dark home they discussed their families, the newest trick their babies had learned, the way their wives nagged them to be more productive on their days off. As they moved across they noted how slowly homes were lighting up, the few men that worked outside of their town preparing for the long commute to the city. Traveling down Jefferson Road they had no clue of the horrors awaiting the family in the old two story house settled near the end of the road.

The family at 1860 Jefferson Road, was the typical American family. Here in East Allegany everyone knew them, this family had been a part of the makeup of this town as long as anyone could remember. Their descendants had helped form the first town council back in 1780. While their roots could be traced back to the first settlers in East Alleghany, they were no different than anyone else here. After tonight there would be a black cloud over this house, over this family, that would never truly go away, sure slowly people would move on, slowly life would go back to normal.

The family home was more than enough for the mother and father that was raising three children within its walls. They weren't rich but they had enough, what they lacked in possessions they had made up for in love. With each breaking morning the children were told they were loved, that they mattered, that they could be anything in life that they wanted to be. Nights were filled with laughter around the dinner table. It seemed to be the idyllic way to be raised; two parents who loved you, siblings that while you fought with you knew always had your back; a community of family to raise you.

The two story house showed its age well, it was well lived in. A girls bicycle was dropped on the front lawn, with no concern that it could be gone in the morning. Rose bushes perfectly manicured in the front lawn. Mismatched furniture inside, hand me downs from generations past. The only luxury item was the new television they had bought last year.

Tonight the foundation of this home would be ripped apart, scars both visible and otherwise would be slow to heal for years to come. On the second floor the only light was the soft glow under the bathroom the girls shared. They had remodeled the bathroom just a few years after their youngest child was born. The soft white tile now covered in a pool of blood, blood that would never fully coming up, the tile would always hold a soft pink glow, until they had finally ripped up the tile, trying to erase the memory of this night.

The deep bathtub had been home to many bath time rituals over the years. Rubber ducky's once swam across the way pushed by the imagination of an inquisitive brunette four year old. Barbie's had beach parties with the unexpected blonde child they added six years after they insisted they had their last child.

The bath tub that had once been an escape from the world, the protector of a sick child with a fever that wouldn't go down, and the provider of an overdue shower, now held the young girl as she slowly slipped away from the safety of her home and her family. The cold hard tub was trying to protect the girl one last time as she slowly took her last breaths.

A scream of horror echoed across the bathroom walls, echoing of the forever stained tile. The walls of their home absorbed the screams, the sobs, the pleading of the voice that first witnessed the evil that had found its way into their innocent world. The blood curling scream echoed not just through their home, through the dark forest behind them, and through the streets of their town. The wails of a mother matched the wails of the police cruiser as it sped to try and save a life. The echoes of that first scream, of the hopeless pleading, would be heard and felt all over their small town.

Blessed be the night, which conceals and protects things fair and foul with the same indifferent mantle. Jose Saramago