Cliff Huxtable slowly raised his head from the stark absoluteness of the basement floor. An original pressing of Cole Porter's "Kiss Me, Kate" ached against the cold concrete walls. Between songs, the gentle sobs of Vanessa, Cliff's second youngest daughter, swelled and faded like an autumn breeze. How had this day unraveled on him?

It had been three long years since the tragedy that had rocked the family to its very foundation. Three long years. And yet, those wounds were still so fresh, knives in Cliff's soul. He closed his eyes again. The flood of memories made him audibly wince.

"Sondra? Elvin?" Claire Huxtable called into the stagnant air of the apartment, "Are you home? The door was op..."

And then her screams. Cliff would never forget her screams.

The body had been meticulously positioned on the couple's red leather sofa. Elvin's body. The eyes and genitals had been removed, and the naked flesh revealed a seemingly endless array of vicious tears and punctures. Cliff instictively took a step forward to calm his hysterical wife, and his feet sank into the blood-soaked plush carpeting.

"My babies..." they heard a voice from the bedroom moan.

"Oh Jesus!" Claire leapt from Cliff's embrace. He followed.

Sondra, the couple's eldest child, slowly rocked back and forth from the edge of an unmade bed. Her clothes were stained crimson; her eyes were wild.

"Sondra! Oh Jesus, Sondra!" Claire began, throwing her arms around her daughter, "Are you hurt?"

Sondra's eyes met with Claire's in a gaze which made Cliff shiver.

"My babies..." she deadpanned again, "My babies..."

"Where are the twins, Sondra?" Claire asked, her voice severe.

Cliff noticed for the first time that the silence in the disheveled apartment was almost deafening. Winnie and Nelson, well into the throes of their terrible twos, were never this quiet. His heart sank.

"Where are they?" Claire demanded again.

Silence.

And then Sondra slowly moved her head toward the hallway, giggling softly.

"Sondra!" Claire pleaded, "Where..."

Cliff was already wandering back down the hall. The sillouette of Elvin's corpse made him uneasy.

What time was it now? The sinking sun had already thrown shadows upon the contents of the apartment. Cliff fumbled for a lightswitch and then began searching through piles of sullied clothes and toys. His hope of finding the twins alive had diminished to such a disheartening degree that he didn't even bother to call their names.

Claire wept as she joined her husband in the livingroom. "P-please hurry." she panted into her cellphone to the 9-1-1 operator on the other end. Her years of being a hard-nosed attorney had failed to prepare her for this.

Claire's eyes darted from the livingroom to the kitchen. Blood congealed in large pools on the once pristine tiles. This was a nightmare world. Time slowed to a crawl. Her heart felt as if it might beat its way out of her chest.

Cliff heard his wife cry out, and then the solid thud of her body collapsing against the kitchen counter and onto the floor. He sprinted through the doorway. And immediately wished he hadn't.

Lying on the counter was a large knife and beside it, what initially appeared to be pieces of ground meat. Had Elvin been making dinner when some unseen killer had assailed him?

"No...no..." Cliff shook his head as he struggled to make sense of it all.

"NO!" His eyes had found their way to the kitchen sink. He fell to his knees. Time stopped. And his uncontrollable sobs mingled with the tender lilt of Sondra's singing from the doorway.

"And down will come baby, " she warbled, "cradle and all."