I Never Meant You Harm - Chapter Two
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Sam and Dean stood in front of the twins, as the two boys lounged on the porch steps. Mike sat more tense, while his brother Mark tried to look intimidating as he glared at Sam and Dean.
"Okay," Sam spoke, pulling a pencil and paper from a pocket of his jacket. "Let's start with what you know about the house. 'The Old Porter's House', that's what it is referred as?"
"Yeah," Mark answered, watching closely as Sam wrote on the little pad. "I don't know why it's called that, probably the people who used to live there."
"So, it's the Porter's who haunt it then?" Dean asked eyeing the boy.
"No," Mike supplied. "It's supposed to be haunted by someone named McKenzie."
"McKenzie, not Porter?" Sam asked with bewilderment.
"That's what my brother said," Mark spoke defensively.
"Easy now," Dean said raising a hand. "We're just trying to get all the facts." Dean ran a hand through his hair with agitation. This was getting them no where.
"Okay," Sam continued. "Why does this McKenzie haunt the place?"
"Well, here is the story I heard..."
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Jenny McKenzie was thirteen years old today. She had been getting ready for her party in her room when her mother called from downstairs.
"Jenny!"
"Yes mom," Jenny called back down, as she hung her head out the door.
"Come downstairs!" Her mother yelled back. "I need you to do something for me!"
Jenny gave a huff of exasperation, as she trudged downstairs to the kitchen. In the kitchen her mother was finishing up her birthday cake. A chocolate cake with white frosting.
"Oh," Jenny exclaimed. "It's beautiful mom," Jenny said, as she wrapped her arms around her mother.
"I'm glad you like it honey," Jenny's mother answered. "Can you do me a favor before you get ready?"
"Sure."
"I need you to go downstairs in the basement, and bring up those two extra folding chairs. We need a couple more places for your guests to sit." Her mother smiled down at her.
"Sure thing," Jenny replied. "Be right back."
In the front hall was the door to the basement. Taking a flashlight from the front hall table, as the basement's light was broken, Jenny made her way down the narrow wooden steps.
The McKenzie family had just moved into the house several months back. Since moving in, they had yet to really do anything with basement. Down in the basement were things that they had not found a place for.
The stairs creaked under Jenny's weight, as she ventured further down them. Her flashlight cast eerie shadows on the walls with each sweep it made.
Jenny wasn't normally someone who easily scared, but in the case of the basement she was terrified by it's darkness. To Jenny it felt as if someone was lurking in the depths waiting. Waiting for what, Jenny didn't know.
Finally at the bottom, Jenny began her search of the folding chair. Pushing aside boxes, and cobwebs she looked all around. She stopped suddenly, when a noise from behind her rose from the silence.
"Who's there?" Jenny asked. No one answered.
Jenny went back to her search, and once again heard the noise. "Max," She said. "Is that you Max. Cause if your trying to scare me it isn't going to work." Jenny swung the beam of her flashlight around the area where the noise had come from. Hoping for her brother Max to jump from the shadows, and yell "gotcha". No one did.
Upstairs her mother had found the folding chair leaning against the back door. She went to the top of the basement stairs to yell down, and tell Jenny about the chair. The only thing that escaped her lips were screams, as by the light of the hall she saw Jenny at the bottom of the stairs. Jenny was sprawled across the two bottom slats, dark red blood stained her face. Jenny McKenzie was dead.
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"So what killed the girl," Dean asked, as Mike and Mark finished their story.
"They say it was some killer who snuck in through the basement window," Mike said.
Dean looked at Sam with disbelief written all over his face. Sam looked away, and cleared his throat, "So, what happened the other night while you were at the Porter's House?"
"It was Jacob's birthday," Mike said. "It's like a tradition."
"A tradition," Dean asked, urging the kid to go on.
"Yeah, some kids started a long time ago. On your thirteenth birthday you have to go in at eleven, and you can't come out until midnight."
"Jacob came running out screaming, said he heard noises coming from the basement," Mark added.
Sam put his notepad back in his pocket. "Thank you,"
"Yeah," Dean added in. "Thanks, if we need anything else we'll let you know."
"Whatever," Mark said, as the twins watched the two brothers walk back to their car.
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"So, what do you think," Dean asked.
"Might be nothing, or it might be something," Sam answered, as he flopped down on the bed in the motel room they just obtained.
"I think it's a load of nothing. Just a bunch of kids getting scared over nothing, and wanting attention for it." Was Dean's answer back.
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"KID FOUND DEAD," Sam read from the paper the next morning, as Dean emerged from the bathroom, hair still damp.
"What," Dean asked.
Sam handed over the paper for Dean to read.
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KID FOUND DEAD
Early this morning, around one o-clock, the body of a thirteen year old girl was found inside 'The Old Porter's House'. Two other children had dared the young girl to go inside the house, and stay for an hour. When the hour was up, and the girl didn't come out, the two children ran for help. They stopped a police car. The officer went inside, and found the girl in the basement. Cause of death is suspected to be from falling down the stairs...
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The article went on with several other details, but didn't mention the kids names. "Damn," was Dean's response.
"What do you want to do?"
Dean ran his hand through his hair in thought. "I say we go find out who these kids are."
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Dean thrummed his hand against the steering wheel in time to the music blaring from the radio. Several people walking along the sidewalk turned their heads in annoyance. Dean simple glared at them. Soon Dean could see Sam emerge from the police station with several papers in his hand. As Sam climbed inside, Dean turned down the volume, and waited.
"So," Dean prompted.
"Piece of cake," Sam answered, his voice flat and empty of any emotion.
"What is it," Dean asked with concern, though he kept it well hidden.
Sam flipped through the papers until he cam across the one he was looking for. "Victim, Casey Jacobs. Cause of death, broken neck; from falling down stairs. Reported By, Mike and Mark Owens." Sam gave Dean a meaningful look.
"Well fuck."
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