Knock Knock

"It cannot be seen, cannot be felt, cannot be heard, cannot be smelt, it lies behind stars and under hills, and empty holes it fills, it comes first and follows after, Ends life, Kills laughter..."

Case One:

Nightmares. According to Webster's, the definition of Nightmare is, simply put, a frightening or unpleasant dream, and a terrifying or very dangerous experience or prospect...but it's much more than that don't you think? How would you define it? For several years I've hunted the unnatural, the horrifying, the evil, the monsters that haunt the innocents dreams... What do you call a nightmare when it's real? For years I've studied the supernatural, the unexplained, the dangerous things that go bump in the night and still I'm oblivious to so much of it. For you to understand my profession, to understand me, I need you to hear where I started, where it all began for me. I need someone to listen, to prove once in for all that I'm not entirely crazy, or that, perhaps, I am.

December 10, 1954

My name, to start, is Alphonse Locket. I was born and raised in the city of Chicago. My mother and father's names were Sylvia and Frank, they were originally from New Jersey until they could afford to get the hell out and come here. Not exactly a step up, but my mother assured me that leaving Jersey was the best thing they'd ever done. Sylvia, my mother was a good hearted woman, she died when I turned seventeen and father died not too long after that. The reason I'm telling you this, if you're wondering, is because in order for you to understand this case you have to know me. Everything is connected...but later on that. As I was saying, my father and mother died before I had even reached my twenties. It was hard, living without them, but I eventually came to the conclusion that despite the fact that they were dead I couldn't dwell on my memories of them.

After eight long years, I had eventually grown into a capable adult, head journalist at the local news station and soon to be married to Helen Royals. I wont bother telling you about Helen since she died before we got the chance to get married. Shot by a lone gunman in her clinic. Helen is hard to talk about for me, I apologize.

Over the years, since getting a job at the station I had always been assigned the cases that the other journalists couldn't be bothered with. The crazies, the sociopaths and psychopaths that were too far gone for anyone to believe their stories. However, whether I believed them or not didn't matter, what mattered was that they were interesting and that the audience and consumers would pay for it...which they did, happily. Several surveys had actually prove that my articles were more popular then the sports column and jokes combined. (Not that I'm gloating but I was quite proud of that fact).

One day however, a case had come across my desk, THE Case. I had been looking for my "big break" at the time and well this case, it had everything I was looking for. Gore, Death, a Haunted house, everything cliché in the book that the audience, my readers ate up. Below I've attached a copy of the report:

NAME: BARBARA WINTER

SPOUSE: HENRY WINTER

CHILDREN: FIONA WINTER & HENRY WINTER JR.

SUMMARY: BODIES FOUND IN THE LIVING ROOM, BARBARA WITNTER HANGING FROM THE BACK WALL. HER ARMS AND LEGS BROKEN INVERTEDLY AND HER JAW BROKEN. ON LEFT AND RIGHT SIDE HER RIBS PROTRUDED THROUGH THE SKIN TO REVEAL HER CHEST CAVITY. ALL ORGANS ACCOUTED FOR AT HER FEET. HENRY WINTER FOUND KNEELING AT HIS WIFES FEET, ALSO DEAD. THE FLESH ON HIS FACE HAD BEEN TORN OFF (SELF INFLICTED). IN HIS FREE HAND WAS A SHARD OF A BROKEN MIRROR, STILL UNSURE WHERE IT CAME FROM, NO MIRRORS IN THE HOUSE BROKEN AND NO EVIDENCE THAT THIS IS THE MURDER WEAPON. FIONA AND HENRY WINTER JR. WERE FOUND IN THE CORNER HOLDING ONE ANOTHER. HENRY JR. MISSING ONE LEG, LATER FOUND IN THE UPSTAIRS BATHROOM HANGING FROM THE CEILING FAN, DIED OF BLOOD LOSS. FIONA, NO APPARENT WOUNDS, NO BLOOD, AND NO LIFE. CORONERS REPORT EXPLAINED LATER THAT HER HEART WAS MISSING, YET THERE WERE NO SIGNS OF INCISION (STILL UNKNOWN).

WITNESS STATEMENTS: "ALL I HEARD WAS CRASHING AND SCREAMING" - JOSEPH HILL, "THERE WAS SO MUCH BLOOD, WHEN THE SUNLIGHT HIT THE WINDOWS THE WHOLE TOWN LOOKED RED" - KELLY JACKSON, " 'IT' KILLED THEM...TOOK THEM TO HELL WHEN NO ONE WAS LOOKING..." - PIPER CRAWFORD, "THEY WERE GOOD PEOPLE, ONLY A MONSTER COULD DO WHAT THEY DID TO THEM." -LISA BOX.

OTHER: UPON ARRIVAL DETECTIVE SIMMONS AND MYSELF DISCOVERED A DARK SECTION OF FLESH, ALMOST LIKE LEATHER, THOUGH UPON LATER INVESTIGATION THE SKIN WAS MISSING FROM THE EVIDENCE BOX. NO FINGER PRINTS FOUND.

As cruel as it may seem I was actually very excited to get to this case. Everything about it was dangerous and dark and that was something my readers loved me for. Sick b******s, and I was happy to oblige them.

It didn't take very long to get to the crime scene, in fact at the rate I was driving I'm surprised I hadn't created a crime scene of my own. All in all I probably shouldn't have been happy driving to a murder scene in the middle of a Sunday afternoon when I should have been going to church rather then spending my time waist deep in the gruesome cruelty and bloody beauty of a murdered family, but at that point in my career Death had become my unofficial partner in crime..so to speak. Death was meaningful to me, more meaningful than life anyway and it wasn't a surprise to anyone when I said that because when you make your living off the suffering and misfortune of others you learn not to care about life so much. Some people hated me for it, you know, those church going god fearing people who are rarely seen not in church. On more then one occasion I'd arrive at my midtown apartment to find a crowd of them rioting me. I suppose that's something else I've gotten used to over the years.

I remember pulling onto the street of the house, the neighborhood dead, more vacant then I'd ever seen. In films they always say you get goosebumps at the scariest parts when you know something bad is going to happen. I can tell you from personal experience that that's not what it's like at all. The feeling starts at your feet, a cool sickly feeling like having a cold in mid June where the sweat and heat give you a clammy chill. Slowly but surely it works its way up your legs, making your knees shake and quiver, but you aren't quite sure exactly why. Whether it's because of fear or anxiety or sheer nervousness you just aren't aware. You can't control your senses, can't think straight. It's like getting drunk or high off of one of those drugs on the market. You feel everything, hear everything, and everything is just too much all at once. You start to feel sick, like your stomach is going to burst and split with vomit and yet it also feels like each of your organs are being crushed and twisted. In a summary, its the most uncomfortable feeling one can ever experience multiplied by ten.

As one would expect at a crime scene, the area was sealed off with the traditional yellow "police line do not cross" tape you see in films, and there were several police officers placed around the house staring blankly in every direction like they hadn't slept in days. Which wasn't surprising considering how terrible some of these crime scenes were. I had, of course, called before hand, I had no desire to get shot by the local PD because of a reckless and stupid misunderstanding. Suffice it to say that it's happened before, but that's not important right now.

Getting out of my vehicle I was immediately welcomed with the customary glares and hateful glances the police usually associated me with upon arrival. I'm not the Press, in fact I've always considered the Press, and Paparazzi to be certified and legal stalkers. They're more disgusting then the acts they catch celebrities doing. Anyway, all of that's beside the point, the glares of police and family members is something I've built quite the tolerance to. It's easy not caring what people think about you when you know that everything they think is wrong.

"Mr. Locket, " Two men approached me upon stepping out, both were the bulky sort with crew cuts and beer bellies, the usual small time detectives that had started in the larger cities and couldn't make the cut. "I'm Detective Franklin, this is Simmons." The slightly taller once gestured to himself then the other but I could tell I wasn't going to remember who was who. The two looked like clones, black hair, black stubble, dark eyes, clammy skin, the usual eat too much cops that hardly got enough cases to be called officers of the law.

Despite my repulsion of the two men I shook their hands, as I had suspected they were clammy and cold, just as disgusting as they looked. "Pleasure." I said coldly while turning to look at the house. "May I go in?"

"Sure, but there's really no point. All of the evidence was taken to the department as well as all photography taken by the other officers." I couldn't help but look at them annoyed. I knew the real reason they didn't want to go back in and wasn't because they had collected all the evidence already, it was because they were lazy. I had later found out that I had been right about that when the Chief of Police gave me an alibi for their supposed to be whereabouts, which just happened to be at his annual holiday dinner.

"I'll decide that for myself thanks..." Stepping passed them I made my way under the police tape and toward the front door. It's hard to explain the feeling of crossing the line between perfect neighborhood to crime scene. As soon as I had ducked under the tape I could feel the atmosphere change. The air became cold and stagnant, the world looked dimmer, like all the colors were on mute and all the sounds dulled. I had been to fresh crime scenes in life prior to this, so don't misunderstand my anxiety for a fear of the unknown. I knew I'd see the blood on the windows, I knew it would be so dark that you couldn't even see in unless the sun was shining in through the opposite side.

As I reached for the doorknob I felt a spark and excitement rush through my limbs. I knew I'd find something in this place, I wish I had turned around but I didn't, because as soon as I stepped through the door the scene shifted oddly, as though it were covered in a fading haze still clinging to obscurity. When I had turned around and found the door closed I cant say I was surprised. I knew I hadn't closed it myself, I wouldn't have with the two cavemen following me in, yet the door was shut.

It hadn't been my first experience with mysteriously closed doors though and I wasn't about to let it stop me from making my debut in the hall of journalists. So, I ignored it, I made my way upstairs, completely skipping the living room where the bodies had been found. It was a habit I had gotten into after my first few small time cases. I found it was easier to focus on smaller details when you didn't think you knew everything from the main crime scene. You tend to remain more open minded when facts aren't being thrown at you from all directions.

Reaching the top platform I stepped off and made my way into the children's room. The room itself was cluttered, the bed flipped on its side and leaning against the wall. On the floor the toys were lined up in a circle around a pool of dried blood. Their beady eyes and stitched mouths almost seemed to be smiling as they stared at the blood spot with their unblinking eyes. I could see where the boy Henry Jr. had either been dragged away toward the bathroom, or he crawled there himself. It was a horrific scene even for me, no child should die so young.

Looking around the room I was surprised to see massive claw marks carved into the walls, causing the wallpaper and plaster to protrude slightly from the foundations. There was no blood where the claw marks were though, telling me that whatever killed them wanted to scare them to death first. The b*****d liked to play with its prey before killing it. Noticing a picture on the dresser beside the girls bed I carefully stepped over to it and picked it up with one of my gloves.

It was well done for a four year old, disproportional and colored the wrong way but realistic enough for me to see what it was. It was a dark picture, a girl whom I could only have assumed was meant to be her, sitting in a corner alone with chains around her ankles and a monster standing in front of her. As of now I can still not positively tell what it exactly was but her drawing was oddly close to what I saw on this case.

It was black beast, its body thin and sickly as though it were decaying but well muscled. Its arms were much long with the join much lower so that when it lowered itself onto all fours it could run just as fast if not faster than it could on two, not to mention the massive black talons that it had as nails.. Its snout was oddly extended and twisted into a sort of snarl while, massive teeth like a boar filled its black slimy mouth. It had massive ears, much like a German Shepherd though they were thin enough for you to see the veins through. As I stared at her sketch I could feel pieces of myself fighting on whether running away or staring at it longer were the right thing to do.

I put the picture down when I heard someone enter the room. "Did Fiona have any mental health issues? Did she see things that weren't really there?" Turning to face the detective I was startled to see how pale he was and decided to ignore him and ask about the claws instead. "What are these?" I managed to say through gritted teeth.

"Are you alright Mr. Locket?" he asked oddly, which seemed strange to me considering I felt fine and there was no evidence or reason to ask me that.

"I'm fine, I was just asking what these claw marks are...?"

"Our investigators classified them as knife marks. They probably happened while the killer was chasing after the kids."

"That doesn't make sense Detective, no offense." Putting my hands on my hips I looked at him irritated at how stupid someone could be to miss such a simple clue, and I could tell he had no idea what I was talking about. "I read the report, whoever did this planned out EXACTLY how to kill this family. They knew before hand what they wanted to do here..." Looking around the room again my eyes followed the claw marks to the door. "Whatever did this wanted to lead them there," I said pointing to the circle of demonic looking toys. "This was orchestrated Detective, none of this murder is random, I thought that would be obvious to a detective of your stature..."

He glared at me of course, I cant say I blame him, but after seeing him so pale I had to admit it made feel a bit better. Yet, I was in no mood teach the police how to do their jobs, especially this particular one (whatever one he was).

"What are you suggesting?"

"Nothing at all." Stepping passed him I took one more glance at the photo beside the girls bed. "If I were you I'd take that into evidence too...the girl may have seen a monster, but children have a way of seeing things in a way they can understand...her monster could be your killer." I could hear the detective's annoyed huff as he walked over and bagged the drawing in an evidence bag.

Stepping out of the room I made my way to the bathroom where the boys legs had been found. Following the cracking and dried blood stains on the floor from what I suspected was the boy's, Henry Jr. Opening the door I was surprised to see the bathroom was mostly intact. Other then a few claw marks on the shower curtain and a brownish colored stain on the floor wish I assumed was from the leg that had been hanging above it recently. Though, I'm not sure why I was surprised, the report had stated that the attack had been mostly isolated to the living room downstairs. Keeping myself in the doorway I took my time examining every detail, the drops of blood splatter in the shower, the cracked floor tiles, everything, anything that could clue me in to what exactly did this.

"This room was cleared Mr. Locket." Both detectives were behind me now, I didn't have to look or hear them to know that. The mere smell of their cologne was enough to choke me and warn me of their presence. I still wasn't sure which of the two had spoken and honestly I didn't care much.

Allow me to elaborate. It wasn't that I didn't have a certain respect for them, I did, though I'm not sure how much. I've met plenty of police officers prior to the two goons with guns I had worked with on this case and all of them were about a thousand times more considerate and capable then the two of these men were combined.

"I'll decide that for myself thanks..." Now, to defend myself here, I had not meant to come across as rude as I had to them. Rudeness and anger usually closed doors to useful information but at that point I didn't care much to humor their wounded pride. "The police report you sent me said that you found the child's leg hanging from the ceiling fan correct?"

"...Yeah what of it?"

"Why isn't there more blood?" A question I had meant more for myself then them but turning my head slightly I looked at them and repeated my question so they could hear me this time. "If someone had hung a leg from the ceiling fan there would be more blood then this from the killer trying to tie it to the cords...especially if it was fresh." Stepping forward I looked over the corners of the room I couldn't see from the doorway. "Yet, other than the very small amount of blood splatter there doesn't appear to be any blood where the really ought to be."

"What are you implying?"

"I'm not 'implying' anything it's a simple observation. Don't you think there would be blood splatter on the walls and scattered on the floor?...What did the coroners report say exactly?" There was a long pause in which I thought they weren't going to answer.

"We haven't gotten it back yet. The girl was the fist to be examined and the boy isn't scheduled until later today..." Looking back and forth at the two of them I was, in the most polite way possible, pissed that they weren't joking. "The coroners office is closed for the day."

"Closed...?" I couldn't help but laugh at how ridiculous this case was starting to get. 1. The laziest cops south of the donut eating kind were assigned to murder investigations 2. they had failed do their jobs properly the first time 3. the coroners office was "closed"... It was about around this time that I had realized that I was going to have to solve this case for myself. God knowing, the two brutes with too much cologne and not enough brain cells were going to get it done. "Unbelievable..." I said to myself before walking out of the suddenly overcrowded bathroom.

While walking back to the stairs leading downstairs I had gotten the strangest feeling that I'd missed something important. Something that had evaded not just me but the police as well, so humoring my own good judgment I turned back to look down the hall and was surprised to see a thin while cord about as long as the average thumb hanging from the ceiling by one of the few windows in the house. "Did you check the attic?" I said while looking at the detectives who stood beside me looking impossibly more irritated then they had been when I had first arrived, but the mention of the attic seemed to wake them out of their angry stupor.

"Attic?..." The two looked at each other like neither of them knew what that word meant.

I hate to admit it but I smiled slightly, not out of amusement but of contempt that they had been so easily crushed with one word. I did feel guilty later how obvious I had been to revel in their idiocy, but I couldn't apologize or take it back at that point and the two really deserved that metaphorical hit in the face. "Yes, the attic." I pointed to the cord so that they could both see where I was looking. Quickly their blank expression turned to shame and they ran down the steps dialing, what I later discovered was the grunt squad of evidence gathers. I, however, didn't wait for them to return or for their pawns to show up.

I had walked to the end of the hall and opened it slowly. Cupping my hand over my mouth and nose as a wretched smell wafted down the steps toward me like a wave of what smelt like death and mothballs. Not the most pleasant smell in the world as you can guess. The pull down steps that unfolded were drenched in blood that had yet to dry but weren't exactly as wet as blood usually is. Thinking about it now, it was in more of a goo like form that had thickened enough to be the color of oil. "What the hell?..." Stepping over the blood as carefully as I could I made my way up the steps.

What I saw there was...well each wall was covered in mirrors. Most were cracked in some way but a few were shattered on the floor like the snow outside. At the center of the room was a large mirror, though I'm not sure if you could call it that. From its appearance, it had looked to be made from the dust of the glass on the floor and glued together to create an abstract looking pillar that didn't reflect an image so much as it seemed to pull it in and consume it, I hate to imagine how painful that would be considering even from far away I could tell that some of those shards were pretty sharp.

Carefully stepping around the larger fragments on the floor I made my way to the center of the room to investigate the center mirror more carefully. It was well put together, most of the shards were tucked inward so as to cut anyone and the outer edge of the pillar of glass were worn down so that you couldn't accidently cut yourself...but something seemed off. Walking around it, careful not disturb anything I moved closer to see that something from within was bleeding outward, keeping the glass from moving. "Jesus!-" I almost fell backward before quickly catching myself from falling into a pile of glass. "What the hell is this?!"

Forcing myself to get closer and examine the pillar more closely it wasn't long before I found what I had feared. Staring out at me, cold and dead were a pair of eyes. The tower of glass was being held up by a body. Without thinking I fell to my knees into the dusted glass and emptied my stomach of its lunch. Yet as disgusting as I felt, a single thought was eating me alive, I was praying that he or she had been dead before they had done this to them. Even now I cant imagine how painful that death was. "S**t..."

"Mr. Locket, what's-" The detectives had finally arrived to see the scene they had clumsily forgotten.

"You forgot a body." Picking myself up I brushed the glass dust from my black slacks and readjusted my suspenders. Pointing toward to death trap in front of me I could see them follow my finger to the crack where the eyes were staring out at me. "I need a cigarette..." Walking passed them and down the steps I quickly found myself outside with no real knowledge of how I got there.

I had seen bodies plenty of times in my career, but that body had been much different. The smell it had, the way they had died, everything about it made me sick. It was at this moment that I had finally come to the conclusion that whoever did this was completely and utterly insane, that or they were the devil incarnate, both seemed logical conclusions.

Taking a cigarette from my pocket and lighting it I took a long drag and exhaled a cloud of dark smoke into the air. Pulling my coat around me tighter I sat on the front steps and stared out at the town. It had occurred to me then the people who had fled were the smart ones, only idiots would stick around while someone as crazy as that were lurking somewhere nearby, who knew maybe he was one of their neighbors or even their spouse. I'm not sure how long I was out there, and I don't remember ever finishing my cigarette but by the time the rest of the police arrived I was stiff and numb and more than ready to go home.

"Alphonse Locket correct?" If it hadn't been for the self righteous way he had spoken to me I probably I wouldn't have bothered to look up, but I was in no mood to play cat and mouse with some puffed up police captain who looked like he needed a very serious beating. "So Mr. Locket, did you find the story you were looking for?" A harmless question sure, but the way he'd said it made something in my head snap. Before I knew what was happening the over weight ball of fat was lying in the snow with a gushing nose with his faux fur coat drenched staring up at me dumbfounded. Honestly I'm not sure who was more surprised me or him but the look on his face brought the smallest smile to mine.

"I'll be back tomorrow for the boys autopsy." I am still quite proud of the way I had held myself together before getting to my car and looking at my aching hand. The knuckles were bruising already and the skin was cracked and bleeding. I wasn't aware of how pissed off I was at the local PD until then and if I'm being honest I was really tempted to get out of the car and pick up where I left on that captains face and ribs. Thinking back now, I wish I would have.

It had been a long drive to my reserved hotel, and it had taken even longer just to check in due to the squirrely receptionist who kept trying flirt with me. I believe her name was Shelly... She was a lovely woman  and quite pretty, with her long blonde curls and pink lips, but her beauty ceased to matter as soon as she began talking. Her voice was one of those high pitched squeaks you'd imagine a television cartoon having. Also, my immediate mood at the time didn't help the fact that her happiness level was much to bright for me. I hate to say it but I was much colder then I meant to be to the poor girl but its didn't seem to bother her much when I simply shrugged her off. I suppose she must have been used to the comatose looking customers she usually dealt with and I had no doubt that she'd bounce back quickly from my ignorance of her.

Stepping into my room I almost collapsed onto the floor before using the wall as a crutch. It was as though everything I'd experienced that day had just caught up with me and the horror that I saw played in front of my tired eyes like a movie. If you've never had the displeasure of having flashbacks then allow me to elaborate. It feels as though your head is about to split in two. There's the half that knows it's not in the real world and the half that wants to stay in the flashback to see what happens. The world spins shrinking and expanding, making you disoriented and dizzy. It's not fun, but I've had the affliction for most of my life, even as a boy, and I cant exactly complain when those flashbacks have helped me with some of cases before this one, but I've also had the misfortune of having them in public places. Like going out for dinner with coworkers and interviews with clients. Its hard explaining that you witnessed an old case months after that to friends who will most likely think you developing PTSD.

Drearily I made my way to the bathroom and sat on the cool floor as the images flashed before me. My arrival, the slimy detectives, the boys bedroom, ending finally with the horrific scenes in the attic and my long trip to that hotel. Leaning over the toilet seat, just in case, I found myself thinking of the living room I had skipped over. If the attic was that horrible what could the living room have looked like when it was fresh? The thought sent a chill down my spine and wave of nausea through my body. Lucky for me I had already dispensed whatever food was in my system in the attic, which I was hoping the two nimrod detectives would be stuck at until at least midnight tonight. It bothered me, however, that the police could miss something so obvious, and somewhere in the back of my mind I began to hope that these men were not this towns last defense against the psychos of the world. (I would like to add a side note here, I hope you don't mind. If you haven't noticed, or if you have, I have not been telling you the name of the place I was in. I am keeping this information confidential due to the severity of the murder and the scar it left on this place. Those people don't need anything else bothering them, especially nosey outsiders who just want to see the murder house).

Leaning back against the tub, which I was surprised there was one, I realized that because of my momentary shock I did not take into the account the attic. I had completely forgotten to examine any aspects of the room nor brainstorm as to why it was there. Even then, while I was thinking about it, I couldn't come up with a single reason why the room had been created at all. In fact the more I thought about it the more questions I had. Why mirrors? Who was the person in the center of that glassy pillar? What was the purpose of the room? How was it not found sooner? So many things didn't make sense to me and of the things that bothered me that was one of the biggest. I hate not knowing why, who doesn't, but there was something illusive about this case, that no matter how many times I tried to think of a reason the real cause was always out of my grasp.

Rubbing my eyes, irritated at the world, I tried to imagine what had happened from the killer's perspective. I could see him or her walking into the house, maybe getting in through an open window. Walking upstairs a knife in the hand ready to kill their unknowing victims...and that was when I realized it. A knife, as plausible as a weapon as it was would be unable to make the marks in the wall without waking someone up first, a knife wouldn't be enough to make a sane man tear off his face, a knife wouldn't be enough to be able to do everything that the police were saying it did. It would be like blaming a pen for making a mistake. It was not the pen but the thing wielding it that made damage. Even with that realization it only raised more questions rather than the answers I was looking for.

Lowering my hands from my eyes I looked into the mirror and was shocked to see what couldn't be there. Rather than my own reflection was a beast with black skin. I couldn't see it clearly no matter how hard I tried but I could tell that its snout was extended and that sticking out from its dark slimy mouth were massive tusks like you'd see on wild boars. This monster, this mass of blackness and muscle stared out at me with its black eyes touched the mirror with its talon hand, impossibly, cracking it as it scraped its claws against its surface with a jarring screeching sound. This monster was what that child had drawn, and there was no way it was real. Closing my eyes I could feel my fast breathing slow and calm. There was no way it was real, no way. Opening my eyes again I looked up at the mirror and it was gone. The glass was undamaged and the beast was nowhere to be seen.

At the time, I was probably less afraid then I should have been, but to me it had just been a side effect of sleep deprivation and recent events playing tricks on me. Even now the idea that any of this might be real is still unbelievable to me. People spend their entire lives telling stories of things that haunt the night so that their own children have a subconscious fear of the dark, and there I was waist deep in nightmarish darkness and still descending and I didn't even know it.

Standing up from the cold tiled floor I shut the bathroom light off and made my way to back into the bedroom, where I gladly undressed from the slacks and suspenders to a more comfortable attire of pajamas and a warm robe. Maybe, it was my paranoia or maybe it was somewhere deep inside I knew something was wrong but I shut the bathroom door and stuck one of the wooden chairs from the table beneath its doorknob. Even now I cant say exactly why I did it but I suppose it could have been my fear of the "what if...", like what if it were real? Anyway, after I had placed the chair by the door I had grabbed my suitcase from my meek pile of luggage and went about reviewing the case file again, or at least I had started with the case file...before I had realized what I was doing I had already been staring at Fiona Winter's coroner's report for ten minutes. A copy of which I have attached below:

CORONER'S REPORT

SUBJECT: FIONA WINTER

AGE: 4

GENDER: FEMALE

SUMMARY: BODY WAS FOUND INTACT AT THE WINTER RESIDENCE. NO SIGNS OF DAMAGE OR INJURY ANYWHERE ON BODY OTHER THEN SOME SLIGHT BRUISING TO THE BACK OF THE HEAD. UPON EXAMINATION AND AUTOPSY I DISCOVERED THAT THE HEART WAS MISSING, ALL OTHER ORGANS ACCOUNTED FOR. FURTHER INVESTIGATION OF THE CORPSE WAS CONDUCTED THOUGH I STILL COULD NOT FIND ANY TRACE OF INCISION WHERE THE KILLER COULD HAVE REMOVED THE MISSING HEART.

OTHER: DURING THE EXAMINATION I HAD DISCOVED SMALL PIECES OF WHAT APPEARED TO BE THE THIN LAYERS OF NAIL YOU MIGHT FIND IN THE HOMES OF CAT OWNERS. I HAD PLACED THESE PARTICLES IN A SMALL BAG NEAR THE OPERATING TABLE BUT UPON LATER VISIT THEY WERE MISSING FROM THE MORGUE ENTIRELY.

Again, evidence had been reported missing and I was beginning to get a sense that perhaps it wasn't lost so much as someone was stealing it to hide their guilt, or existence on this case. Still, I had far too little evidence to blame anyone, and not enough of my own ideas to even come up with what could have happened to it. The best way I could explain it to you is trying to write a summary for book without reading the story first. Of course it had only been day one in my clearly long trek that this case was becoming, but the fact that I had no facts at all to even give me a clue was really the extra topping to a day I already couldn't handle. Putting away the file I quickly found myself staring at the bathroom door shaking my head like I couldn't believe how stupid I was being, yet I made no move to put the chair where it belonged.

Reaching over to the lamp at my side I quietly turned it off and fell asleep beneath the not so comfortable covers of a very uncomfortable bed.

December 11, 1954

When I woke up the next morning the first thing I looked at was the chair in front of the bathroom. It was still there of course, I'm not sure why I thought it wouldn't be or what I thought was going to happen while I slept not ten feet from it but I was still relieved to see it hadn't moved. Getting off the bed I moved to my luggage and pulled out another black suit though the one I'd chosen that day was pinstriped with a red button up beneath it. It was one of my favorites, a gift from Helen when I had first started working as a journalist, even now I can remember what she had said to me, "If you're going to be a big shot you better look the part", she even winked at me and kissed me on the cheek afterward...

After dressing I grabbed my black leather suitcase from the side of the bed and my way back to the house, where several police cars were already parked. It would have been a pleasant surprise until I saw the Captain with a proper jacket on and bandage around his nose. I'll admit that I had to stifle a laugh as I made my way under the police tape toward the house where detectives Simmons and Franklin were waiting for me. The two looked a bit more professional then they had the day before with no cologne which almost made them bearable to be around, but I knew that despite the wardrobe change they were still the idiots I'd met the day before, still I must say I was rather impressed with the professional way they managed to carry themselves when required.

"Good morning Mr. Locket." The taller one said taking a step toward me. I was bit startled by his welcome at first and stared at him a for a moment blankly which he clearly noticed but didn't say anything.

"Morning. Did you get the body from the atti-" Before I could finish my question I was being slammed against the house by a pair of meaty hands. Looking into my attacker's face I wasn't exactly surprised to see the captain standing in front of me, snarling like a dog. "Good morning to you too Captain Wheeler." To explain, I've met Wheeler in the past. Not face-to-face of course but when I was still a rookie my mentor had interviewed him for a burglary case. Let's just say he was just as much of an a*s hole then as he was at this point, and I liked him just as much if not less.

"What the hell do you think your doing here?!" I couldn't help rolling my eyes at him. His disgusting scent was that of a bottle of whiskey and too many cigarettes, but there was something else there too, the strong scent of iron, of blood.

"Helping you solve a murder, what else would I be doing here?" Now, under normal circumstance any normal person would have been 1. crying for help or 2. trying to get their attacker off themselves. I, however, wanted all nearby officers to see just how pathetic their captain was so I let him tighten his grip on my shirt. "Are you sure that's wise Wheeler?..." I said while directing his gaze with my own. Behind him a small crowd of officers as well as townsfolk had gathered to gawk at him, and along with them came the whispers and nods that accompanied and a newborn rumor.

"You'll pay for this..." Dropping his hands he went to his car and drove away. Dusting off my jacket irritated I walked back to Franklin and Simmons.

"So, did you get the body out of the attic?"

"..." The two looked at each other and then back at me with a crushed look in their eyes. "Bodies, there were two."

"Two?" It's odd, I don't remember much of how I felt at that moment. I'm not sure if I felt sick or surprised, but I do know that I was afraid. Just seeing the eyes of that first body had been enough to make me vomit the day before, I couldn't even imagine how that second looked and honestly I didn't want to.

"Yeah, you had better come with us." I had wanted to visit the living room that day, and I had almost excused myself when I realized I had a reason to visit the coroner's after all.

Following them to the dark detectives vehicle I climbed into the front seat beside the driver, whom I'm still not sure which of the two men it was, and we made our way to the office of one Doctor Albert Hans. Walking closely with Simmons and Franklin we had quickly reached the white and titanium refrigerated  box that was the office of the seriously insane and slightly dramatic Dr.Hans.

To explain, Albert C. Hans is a very smart man. He has several awards in anatomical studies and genetics and psychology, but he's also just as likely to be found cutting someone open as he is rocking back and forth in a corner playing with a yoyo he made from someone's intestines. (No need to worry though that only happened once and the person was already dead so I don't think he minded much). Albert is a young enough man, mid thirties though with his already graying hair and demented gaze you'd think he were older then he really is. Also, the reason I know him so well is because as crazy as he is he's one of the top guns in his profession.

Seeing him standing in front of me, scalpel in one hand and ice cream cone in the other was one of the funniest and strangest things I've seen even today. I had to choke down the laughter at the time which had started off being hard until I noticed the legless body of Henry Winter Jr. lying on the metal operating table behind him, and that Hans's smock was covered in blood.

Approaching the table carefully I stood over the boys open body and inspected his small face. He was so small, his hair a dark brown was messy and hung carelessly over his empty eyes. His skin a shade so pale it looked like fields of fresh snow, other then the fact that his chest was open he seemed perfectly content on the slab of Hans's table. "What have you learned so far?" I said without looking up.

"Well he's dead." Hans said bluntly while tossing his cone into the trash casually. I suppose he was even more accustomed to death then I was and he had to get literal blood on his hands, it was no wonder he was half crazy...if that's possible, to be half sane. "Though, I'm not sure how." Confused I pulled my eyes from Henry's corpse and looked at the detectives, then Albert. "It's really quite the conundrum...when I had first examined him at the crime scene I had thought he had died from blood loss but now..." Scratching his dark stubble intrigued he put down the scalpel and opened the boy mouth. "You may want to look away for this, it could get messy." He said with a smile before sticking his hand down Henry's throat.

"What the hell are you-!" I stopped when he began to pull out a long black vine as long as my forearm. "What is that thing and how did you know it was there?" I'll admit my way with words at the time was not the best but how would you have reacted f you'd just witnessed a half sane man reach into a corpses throat and remove a black vine with no explanation?

"I didn't, but there were signs of asphyxiation...and since there was no evidence of anything used for that at the crime scene I thought he might have swallowed something or someone shoved it down his throat..." Holding the vine higher toward the light so we could all see it better I could tell right there that it was unnatural, at least to this part of the country or our country at all. The vine was a deep red, darker then blood but not black like oil. It had thorns twisting around it with three of the oddest leaves I'd ever seen. They were dark like the vine itself but not as dark as you might think. When being held up to the light, as Dr.Hans was doing you could see ghastly purples veins like bats wings. "Interesting no?"

"Indeed, may I?" I asked while putting a pair of latex gloves. He handed it to me of course, and I carefully examined the vine from tip to tip. It was slightly covered in blood, which I assumed was because of the way Alfred had simply tore it from the poor boys throat. At that particular second I was happy he was dead, I hate to imagine how painful it would have been to have that plant in your throat while trying to breath.

Turning it over in my hands I noticed that the plant was dispensing a black oil like substance from the cut end. "Do you know what kind of flower this belong to?"

"Do you? I work with corpses Mr.Locket not with tulips, flowers are too alive for me. If you want to know I suggest you ask the local florist Mrs.Crawford, she should be able to at least point you in the right direction." He said while taking out a dumdum lollipop from the inside of his jacket and peeling off the wrapper.

"Crawford?.." Turning around I faced the officer closest to me. "Wasn't Crawford one of the statements on the case file?" Franklin and Simmons looked at each and nodded, the bigger oaf biting his lip nervously. "Problem?" Before either of them could answer Alfred laughed.

"She's more crazy then I am." He said through his laughter and started stitching up the boys chest cavity. "Anyway, I thought you boys came here to see the other bodies." As quickly as his laughter started it stopped and Alfred C. Hans was staring at the three of us, waiting for an answer. It's hard to explain how a madman's glare makes you feel if you've ever seen one. It feels like some ethereal being wrapped its boney hands around your spine and you're more afraid to move then stand your ground. Don't get the wrong impression though, I quite like Alfred, he's a smart man with a good heart despite his dysfunctional personality with the living, but there's just something about his eyes sometimes that makes you want to curl into a ball. I suppose the goon twins were just as frozen as I was, and I'm not sure how long the three of us stared at him blankly but an amused smirk crossed Hans's face. "You know, the two from that glass pillar?"

I nodded slowly, afraid to make any sudden movements. Thinking back now I suppose he reminded me of a wild animal that's just as likely to rip your throat out as it is too flee in nervous fright from the slightest movement. "Do you know who they are?"

"I do actually. It's Barbara Winter's nephew and sister-in-law. The boy is mostly intact if you can believe it, hardly any stab wounds, other then the fatal one of course, but that one killed both of them." I watched and listened silently as Hans pulled the last stitch tight and Henry's body seemed to jolt as his chest reformed to its proper location. Pushing the silver slab back to its dictated shelf he put Henry's body back into its titanium temporary coffin. "You can stay for the autopsy if you like but I don't see the point. I can have the summary document delivered to your hotel later in the day." Glancing over his shoulder at us, lollipop in mouth he bit down and broken the hardened sugar. "I mean unless you want to see the bodies for yourself?" He didn't direct the question to anyone specific but I knew he was talking to me.

"No, it's fine. I need to see the crime scene anyway." The taller one of the officers looked at me thankfully and nodded. "But Dr.Hans?"

"Yes?" He said his hand on the handle of another one of his cold coffins.

"Be sure to get me that summary." I said moving to the steps.

"Of course, now get out. I have work to do." Walking after the detectives I found them outside already, both in the same pathetic position head over feet and hands on their knees dry heaving.

"What the hell are you two doing?" Putting my hands into my pockets I leaned back against the building and waited, impatiently, for one of them to pull themselves together. "Well?"

"Sorry, it's just neither of us have really seen anything like that before." The shorter one said while taking out a cigarette. "I mean we've seen dead bodies but that boy..."

Letting out a long sigh and I walked over to them and shoved my hands into my pockets. "I understand, but you cant do this public. At least, not at the front of the building. If the press see you they'll have a field day, and if the townsfolk see you they'll start to think they cant rely on you. It's hard pretending to be strong, but that's your job, to make everyone here feel safe. They cant see that these things get you." The two of them looked at one another and then me with a determined look on their faces. I still cant believe how much alike they were without having any relation.

"You're right..."

"Of course I am. Now lets go, I want to see the living room today." Stepping passed them I moved into the back seat on the passengers side started fiddling with a small ball of lint inside my pocket. Resting my head against the seat I caught a glimpse of my reflection in the mirror and quickly looked away. I had no desire to see that monster again, real or not it had shaken me up more then I thought it had. Suddenly the doors in the front shut and I jumped startled by the sudden sound.

"You okay Locket?" One of the detectives asked, and before you ask no I am not sure which of the two it was.

"Fine. Lets just go."

I'm not sure how long I actually sat in the car for, but it couldn't have been long before we arrived at the Winter's home. I was surprised, needless to say, when I saw the amount of press that had surrounded the area like they were corning a defenseless creature. Pulling the car to stop near on the opposite side of the street both of the detectives looked back at me. "What?" I said probably sounding more irritated then I wanted.

"We thought we'd let you know, the Captain called them, we had nothing to do with it. He said something about how we had an obligation to give the people updates on the case or something..."

"That pig just wanted camera time are you kidding?! God d****t!" Hitting the seat in front of me I let out an aggravated grunt. As I said earlier I hate the press, they don't care about the story or the victims, and I suppose at the time neither did I, but at least I wasn't going around shoving my recorder into everyone's faces asking irrelevant questions and misleading innocent people into thinking everyone around them is a suspect. "S**t!..." Reining in my anger I took a deep breath and let out a long sigh. "Sorry...but that a*****e-"

"Believe us,"

"We know." Looking back between the two of them I realized I may have misjudged them. They may be s****y cops but they weren't terrible people and they weren't as stupid as they looked.

"I guess there's no point in procrastinating is there?" I said while opening my door and stepping into the cool air. Buttoning my coat I brushed some of the lint from its sleeves and began making my way toward the house. I remained unnoticed for the first few moments, that is, until I stepped beneath the police tape and started making my way toward the house with two police escorts. That's when, in the most polite way possible, everything went to s**t. The already more than loud enough noise level increases into a monstrous roaring of questions and complaints from the local news stations and freelancers. I've been in a situation like that one time earlier then this and let me tell you, its wretched. They want to know why the witnesses don't answer the questions and mostly because they cant even hear the question to begin with.

"Ma'am please stay behind the police line! You're not permitted to cross!" One of the officers shouted as I took the first step toward the door. "Ma'am I said stay where you are!" Glancing back my hand on the doorknob I noticed that I knew the woman he was yelling at. I also knew that just yelling at her wasn't going to work.

"Listen here Officer..." she took a moment and looked at his name tag. "Officer Friendly, you are not keeping my out of that house so either you can get the hell out of my way or I can-"

"Let her through!" I yelled to the officer who looked at me like I was insane but I just nodded and he lowered his arm for her to pass. Storming toward me, her red hair billowing behind was Laura Jacobs. I had worked with Laura for years at the station and she had become a good friend of mine when I had started dating Helen. After Helen died I had lost contact with most of the people WE were friends with, only because after her death it didn't feel right for me to consider them MY friends rather then OUR friends... Laura was persistent though she used to stand outside my apartment and kick the door until I opened it. I say used to because before I'd met her that day I'd said some terrible things to her that even I consider unforgivable.

Suffice it to say seeing her there made me extremely nervous, in fact most of the things that had been going through my head as she got closer were along the line of "please don't hurt me" and "this place doesn't need another victim", but it was either let her through and take on her wrath myself or let that oblivious officer stumble into her metaphorical den clueless of the fact there was a wolf waiting to at him alive.

As she took the last few steps toward me and came to stop she looked up at with me with same fiery hazel eyes I'd grown accustomed to over the years. Yet within those eyes I could see the anger reaching its boiling point. "Hello Laura..." I know, I should have said more but I was afraid she might smack me before I got the chance to finish the sentence.

"Locket." It was a simple word, and I already felt the searing pain of a nonexistent whip against my flesh. Laura and I, as I said, had known each other for quite a long a time prior to this. When we first began working with one another we hadn't gotten alone very well. Always butting heads and arguing. It was until we'd been assigned a case together that we finally started getting along and getting to know one another, but up until that point she had always called me Locket. Her calling by me by my last name at that point really stung, even though she had every right to be pissed with me I suppose. "Jeffrey told me you'd be here but...you know I was kind of hoping you wouldn't be."

"It's good to see you too." She glared at me slightly before forcing a smile.

"Good? I figured you'd tell me to go jump off a bridge again."

"Actually, it was building not a bridge..." Opening the door to the house I took a step inside and looked back at her. "Besides, if I said it wasn't good to see you then I'd be lying..." Turning my back to her just barely seeing the surprise on her face I made my way through the house and stopped just before I reached the living room. Closing my eyes I took a deep breath about to take the first step when a hand pulled me back and spun me around.

"You lied to me." Laura was looking up at me, her eyes drawing my own to look at them. The anger still flared in her dangerous iris but there was something else there now, something I hadn't seen in years. Concern. For me. "You said you'd be fine, but look at you, you've lost weight and you're pale as a ghost. Do you even leave your apartment when you're not out on a case?" I couldn't help but look at her startled.

"Laura-"

"No, no excuses you owe me an explanation for everything."

"Laura, we're at a crime scene..." Dropping my hand she looked around at Franklin and Simmons who were standing behind me staring at her, probably more surprised than I was. "Maybe we could do this later, and not when we're two steps away from the murder site?" Laura's freckled cheeks turned a rosy pink just like I remembered and she quickly tied her hair back nodding.

"Let's go then."

"Whoah, hold on. I meant let me do my job and you wait outside or...something." As I said it I knew how stupid I sounded and shrugged throwing my hands up. "Okay, lets go. Lead the way boys." The detectives nodded and lead Laura and I into the living room.

I'm not sure what I was expecting, but the amount of blood the room was coated in seemed impossible. It was as though we had stepped into the torture chamber of hell, and the demon that did this was determined to paint the walls and floor with its victims blood. So far as I could tell it would be easier to tell you what wasn't covered in a violent red that somehow still looked fresh. Other then the half the couch and the coffee table, which were both pushed to the opposite side of the room, the family room was entirely stained. "Jesus Christ..." As I said it a cool breeze blew through the living room from the opening window one of the detectives were opening while the other closed the blood dyed curtain.

"You've been doing this by yourself?" I heard Laura say beside me but I knew she hadn't meant for me to hear it so I moved closer to the wall I could only assume was where Barbara Winters had been nailed up. The blood streaks on the wall dripping down leaving somewhat of a body outline on its surface.

"This is where she was?" I looked at the bulkier detective in the corner and he nodded slowly. "So the husband was where?" Ducking down slightly careful not to touch the floor I moved to look where Barbara's eyes would be looking and found a darker pool of blood mixed with the rest, which oddly streaked backward. "He was here..." Again the detective nodded and closed his eyes clenching his jaw slightly. "I know this is hard, but remember what we talked about. This is when it matters. Understood?" Opening his eyes the detective nodded.

"Henry Winters was staring up at his wife..." The other officer said. "He...He was holding his face in one hand and a shard of glass in the other..."

"A shard of mirror actually... On the original case report you stated that you'd found a mirror shard that didn't belong to any of the mirrors downstairs, but what about the attic?..." Standing to my full height again I moved around the room back to where the wife was found hanging and looked out at the room. "And why does all of this blood move to a central point?" Looking into the corner I found where the children had been sitting and closed my eyes trying to picture the crime scene fresh.

Barbara Winters hanging from the wall, her eyes open as she stares out at her husband with a dead gaze. Henry Winters staring up at her his face in his hand the mirror shard in the other...the children. Opening my eyes abruptly I turn and look at the detectives. "Why didn't the father flee with the children? his wife was dead, the children were alive behind him crying, his son was dying and he sat down and cut off his face?...no something's off here... Why didn't the husband fight back?" Looking back at Laura she stared at my her eyebrows furrowed. "There were no signs of a struggle from either of the parents. The children, specifically the son, or maybe the daughter, were tortured to death. The boy fought to protect his sister and was maimed, losing his leg but shouldn't that have alerted the parents? Why didn't they protect their kids?"

"Alphonse." Laura said my name just loud enough to make me stop and look at her. "Stop." Looking at the detectives they were staring at me like I was a freak of nature.

"Think about Laura, why would two people who are described by their neighbors as the perfect parents let their own children be tortured? And if the father, if Henry Winter, could have still saved them why did he just sit there?...why?" If it hadn't been for Laura's frightened look in her eyes I probably wouldn't have noticed it but I was smiling. I was actually enjoying standing in that blood stained torture chamber and it made me sick.

Rushing outside, my hands shaking and my heart beating in my ears I took a cigarette from my pocket and put it to my lips lighting it while taking a seat on the front steps. It was odd, for the first minute I was out there I couldn't even hear the roaring of the press ten feet away from me. The world was completely muted. Taking a long drag of my cigarette I finally managed to calm down.

"Hey..." Laura sat down beside me and looked at me, the anger completely gone from her eyes. Taking my cigarette she tossed it on the ground and stomped on it with her black heel. "Helen would be pissed if she knew you were smoking again."

"Yeah well," I started taking another cigarette out of my jacket "She'll never know will she?" I lit the smoke and took another drag, exhaling the smoke away from Laura's face. I could feel Laura's eyes on me and turned to look at her and sighed. "... I'm sorry." Putting the smoke out on the stone step I stuck the rest of it back in the pack.

"What happened to you Al?" Standing up from the steps I helped Laura up and started walking away from her.

"Are you coming or not?" I said back to her without looking.

"Where?" I didn't have to look to know she had her hands on her hips in that usual stubborn way she's done.

"I don't know... I just need to be somewhere that's not here." I said while I kept walking to my car that I'd left conveniently on the corner early today. Sliding into the drivers seat I turned my key in the ignition when the passenger side opened and Laura sat down beside me. She nodded quietly and I smiled as I pulled away from the crowded scene and back to the motel where I finally parked where my car was hidden.

"No more stalling Alphonse. What the hell happened to you in there?" Laura turned in her seat to look at me, patiently waiting for a good answer but I had none. I couldn't explain to her that I'd enjoyed being there, that I enjoyed the thrill of figuring this case out or at least an important part of it. Even then, while she sat across from me, my mind was still racing with questions and ideas, I couldn't stop them, and honestly right then I'm not completely sure that I wanted to. "Alphonse...talk to me." Looking into her hazel eyes I couldn't help but feel guilty. Here she was, already she had forgiven me, and all I cold think about was the damn case. Its almost funny in that sort of pathetic way. "What happened to you after Helen died? I mean what really happened to you, not that s**t you told everyone else cause I don't buy it that you just shut down. There's more to it then that isn't it?"

"I did shutdown Laura, just not in the way that everyone thought I meant. I stopped feeling entirely. I tried to go out again after...after Helen died you know I did you were the one who forced me to come. The problem was that I didn't feel anything when I was there. I wasn't happy or bored or depressed, I was nothing. I was just there. The only thing that made me feel alive was being with the one thing I hated most in this world. Death. This job, this job keeps me like I used to be..."

"No Alphonse... I haven't seen you in four years, but I remember what you "used" to be like and this is not it. You were getting enjoyment out of the death of that family for gods sake." Biting my lip I looked away from her and got out of the car Laura quickly followed suit and looked at me form the opposite side. "There's this suffocating shadow that just surrounds you Al and its..."

"It's what Laura?" Taking out the rest of my cigarette I lit it again and took a drag not caring whether the smoke went in her face or not.

"It's sickly, like it's sucking all the good out of you." It may have been cruel but I laughed at her. Much harder then the moment warranted and it didn't warrant any. "I'm being serious Alphonse."

"You know something Laura?"

"What?"

"Mind your own damn business." Flicking the end of my cigarette into the trees I started walking to the motel door. "Oh right." Glancing back I hate to say that I smiled slightly. "You'd better start walking back to town if you want to catch your ride." I froze when I saw a black leathery beast standing at the end of the road. Its massive head was tilted to the side staring at me with black beady eyes. Its arms, just like in Fiona's drawing were long, the joint farther down so it could walk on all four without a problem. Though, then it stood on two, its arms swaying back and forth, back and forth, as it stared me down, its tusked mouth twisting into a gnarled smile. Before I knew what was happening my vision turned black and I hit the ground, the last thing I remember was the pain from hitting the pavement and Laura's bloodcurdling scream.

December 12, 1954

I woke up around midnight in my motel room. Laura was dabbing my head with a cool wash clothe and staring at my face with worry. Again, she had forgiven me even though she really shouldn't have.

"What happened?" I said groggily and tried to sit up. A decision I immediately regretted when a wave of nausea crashed on top of me and an unpleasant array of black and blue spots dotted my vision. Noticing, Laura pushed me on the bed and continued wiping my brow with the cool rag.

"You passed out...you hit your head pretty hard on the concrete." Looking around them room, my eyes found a small pile of blood stained rags in the laundry basket. "It's not deep but I wouldn't move around too much." Rubbing my eyes I tried to get rid of the spots that were still dancing in front of my eyes. "Oh, that doctor came by. Hans, he dropped this off for you." Pushing myself up again, ignoring the nausea , I sat back against the headboard. Laura watched me carefully before she grabbed and manila folder off the floor and handed it me.

"...thanks." I said awkwardly taking the folder and unlatching the silver clip holding it shut.

"Al, I don't think you should-"

"Laura. I understand that you're considered for me...and thank you for that, but this is all I have left. This job gives me purpose. I can't stop and I wont even if all the good in me dies with each case I take. This is what I'm meant to do." Laura nodded and sat down in the chair beside the bed.

"Alright...but I'm not letting you do it alone. Even if you do start acting like an a*****e." I laughed and so did she and we both smiled.

"Sorry about that."

"Yeah just shut up, what's in the folder?" Pulling out the papers I saw that Hans had kept his word. He had delivered the autopsy report of both the nephew and sister of Henry and Barbara Winter. Like always I have attached a copy of those reports below.

CORONER'S REPORT

SUBJECT: JANET THOMPSON

AGE:36

GENDER: FEMALE

SUMMARY: SUBJECT'S BODY IS NEARLY UNIDENTIFIABLE. SMALL PIECES OF FLESH ARE MISSING FROM HER BODY, ASSUMED CAUSE IS STRUGGLING TO FREE HERSELF FROM HER GLASS BINDINGS. SEVERAL OF THE ELONGATED SHARDS PIERCED HER LOWER ABDOMEN, WHILE ANOTHER THREE WERE PROTRUDING FROM HER THIGH, CHEST, AND LOWER BACK. HOWEVER, I DONT BELIEVE ANY OF THESE INURIES TO BE THE CAUSE OF DEATH, BUT RATHER A MEANS TO MAKE THE SUBJECT, JANET THOMPSON, SUFFER. THE CAUSE OF DEATH, IN MY PROFFESIONAL OPINION IS MORE THEN LIKLEY THE OUTCOME OF HER STRUGGLING WHICH LEAD TO THE BLOOD LOSS THAT FINALLY ENDED HER LIFE.

OTHER: WHILE EXAINING THE BODY I DISCOVERED TWO LARGE LACERATIONS EQUAL IN SIZE AND SHAPE, RESMEBLING CLAW MARKS, BUT THEIR EXISTENCE IS INCOSISTENT WITH THE OTHERS. ALL I CAN NOW IS THAT THEY WERE NOT INFLICTED BY GLASS REMNANTS.

CORONER'S REPORT

SUBJECT: FRANKIE THOMPSON

AGE: 10

GENDER: MALE

SUMMARY: LIKE SUBJECT ONE, JANET THOMPSON, HIS BODY HIS HAS BEEN FAIRLY NEGLECTED. ALTHOUGH HE IS MORE INTACT THAN HIS MOTHER, I BELIEVE IT IS DUE TO ASPHYXIATION. UPON EXAMING THE BOYS BODY I DISCOVERED A BLACK VINE WITHIN THE BOYS THROAT, SEVERAL INCHES IN LENGTH. UPON SECONDARY EXAMINATION ON HENRY JR. I WAS ALSO ABLE TO ATTAIN THE SAME EVIDENCE. CROSS EXAMINATION OF EVIDENCE INDICATED THAT THESE PLANTS ARE OF THE SAME ORIGIN. OTHER THEN THE THAT, THE BOY HAD DEEP WOUNDS COVERING A FORTH OF BODY BUT NOTHING PIERCING THE ORGANS WITHIN.

OTHER: AT THE START OF MY PROCEDURE I WAS FORCED TO BREAK THREE OF THE CHILDS FINGERS TO REMOVE A MASSIVE SHARD OF MIRROR FROM THE BOYS HAND. IT HAD APPEARED THAT HE WAS HOLDING ONTO IT TIGHTLY DUE TO THE DEEP CUTS ON HIS PALM. THE GLASS WAS GIVEN TO AN OFFICER TO TAKE IN FOR EVIDENCE AS WAS THE REST OF THE GLASS SHARD I HAD REMOVED.

Author's Note

I apologize for the grammatical errors, please try and ignore them. I would be very grateful for your input on what you think thus far though. What you think I need to add, or what you think of the dialogue, anything that comes to mind would be greatly appreciated. Thank you.