Crimson Tears

Crimson Tears
         I opened the solid oak door to peer in on an exquisite entryway. The style was of late Victorian and the wallpaper appeared to be original. There was a small side table that pressed against the left wall. A set of keys and a pocket book were on top of a large stack of letters. The floor was perfectly clean, as were the walls and sideboards.
         I left the entryway into a large living room to further my search for a struggle. The rest of the team was already on the job. They were talking to an attorney about the need for police security.
         That’s odd. I thought as a passed them and continued up the stairs to the second floor. Usually we don’t worry about that kind of thing.
         As I reached the last step my mind was assaulted with an entourage of various sensations. The smell of decay quickly reached my nose, the scent of blood a coppery background to the horrid stench. The air was thick and heavy. The light was just above that of a couple of candles.
         I wandered down the hall taking care not to dislodge anything that might be collected for evidence later on. I finally came to a door at the end of the hall where a small group of about five FBI agents were discussing the case at hand.
         The agent nearest me approached as I casually slipped my hands into a pair of latex rubber gloves.
         “Welcome back Yuki. I trust you had a good vacation?” he said arching one perfectly sculpted brow. He was handsome considering his job. Then again, all the guys who worked in the morgue were extremely attractive. Although he would definitely have to be on the top of the heap. His skin was extremely pale from countless days spent in the morgue. His eyes were a beautiful hazel, almost blue, which was very uncommon for a Japanese.  His hair was black and so long that it reached almost to his waist, which today he had decided to wear in a braid. He was only 21, but he really looked like he was 18, maybe younger, especially taking his clothes into the equation. He and I were lifetime fans of a Japanese anime called Fullmetal Alchemist, and always bought t-shirts for each other with the characters from the show on them. It was generally considered a children’s show but it had enough action to keep us interested. Other than the t-shirt he wore the usual: leather pants, black and red boots, tight jacket… the usual.
         Maybe it’s the embalming fluid. I mean, working around the stuff all day is bound to have some sort of effect, right?
         “It would have been a lot better if I could’ve stayed for the whole thing… but I suppose I was expecting it. I am pretty popular….”
         He looked up at me with hazel eyes and flashed the brightest and most charming smile I had ever seen.
         “We can’t do anything without you my love.” He took my hand in his and gently brushed his lips across the back of my latex glove.
         I snapped it out of his grip and brought it to my side. It’s just plain creepy when he does that. I thought as I tried to put it out of my mind.
         “What’s with the ‘love’ crap Kai? You know that kind of English stuff freaks me out! ” I said contorting my face into a look of absolute disgust.
         He looked at me and smiled that smile again, making me go weak in the knees, and said, “You watch too many movies. Besides, you know I’m not English. I’m Japanese.”
         “Yeah, yeah, I know… but it’s still creepy. At that moment it was if someone had dipped a thick brush in red paint and dragged it across my face.
         “So then, back to the job… who’s the victim?” Anything to get off this topic.
         Kai’s smile vanished in a blink. His faces turned solemn as he spoke his next sentence. “We don’t know. Unfortunately we can’t tell.”
         “What are you talking about?” I said staring at him in confusion.
         In reply he simply opened the door to the room we were standing in front of.
         The sight was awful. The walls, floor, and ceiling were all covered in blood. Random bits of human flesh lay scattered on the floor. The bed covers were torn away, the mattress ripped to shreds a large message finger-painted on the headboard of the bed: The CriMsoN TeArs We CrY!
         A set of bloody footprints wandered from the room to the connecting bathroom. I followed them, and wished I hadn’t. The large footed bathtub was filled to the brim with bones half covered in flesh. The dismantled body now soaking in acid, which was quickly eating away the remaining skin and blood leaving behind deformed towers of pale white bone.
         Two years ago this may have triggered my gag reflex. Thanks to the chief’s training, however, that reflex was now long gone. I decided that instead of acting as the others that I should act in as calm a way as possible.
         I turned towards Kai who was making faces at the stench.
         “I’m going to need a process kit if you want me to do anything. Especially considering the fact that half of our evidence is dissolving in acid.”
         Kai quickly exited the room to retrieve the kit, and I was alone.
         I bent over and began examining a fingerprint on the rim of the tub. As I was carefully pondering the best way to acquire the print, I heard a strange popping sound coming from the linen closet on the left side of the sink.
         My mind rushed to the time where a crew was blasted in bits by a booby trap set by terrorists. I rushed to the cupboard and pressed my ear to the wood. Now that I was closer I realized that the popping was not really a popping at all, but something akin to a vibrating cell phone.
         A cell phone would be good evidence. Especially if it belonged to the killer, or, well, who ever it is in the tub…I thought as my hand wrapped around the faux ivory handle.
         The ivory felt cold even through the latex of my glove. The texture was smooth and rough all at the same time. The wood shimmered as I opened the door, creating the effect of glistening sweat on a tan persons body. The closet smelled of expensive soap and aftershave. The towels were all in order except for one shelf.
I gazed upward to see what was amiss and was shocked to see a pair of eyes staring back at me.
         I was even more shocked when they blinked.
         I tried to scream but a strong, leather covered hand shot out of the closet and held my mouth, the man slinking out of the closet in the same moment. I struggled to fight back, but my rubber gloves failed to give me any traction, let alone to let me dig my nails into flesh.
I saw him reach into his left hand pocket for something, a cloth. He held it to my nose and mouth. When I inhaled I smelled Chloroform.
I held my breath trying to keep the toxic fumes from entering my lungs, but the man was patient and held fast, knowing that sooner, rather than later, I would have to breathe.
I mentally screamed. Praying that at any moment Kai would enter the scene with a heavily armed guard and I would be saved. I have to hold on!
I soon realized that I was becoming dizzy, my legs growing weak from the lack of oxygen.
I have two choices. I thought, I can let myself fall asleep in the hands of a killer, or I can die from self-induced oxygen deprivation. The future is not looking bright.
I decided that I would have to fall asleep. Even if he took me somewhere, I still had a chance of escaping. If I died… well… that was permanent.
         I inhaled, feeling air fill my crushed lungs once more. I exhaled and inhaled again my body starving for precious air.
         My vision grew blurry around the edges. A small buzz rang in the back of my skull. My knees gave out and I collapsed. My life was now at the mercy of a killer. An icy voice filled my ears like water seconds before I drifted into sleep, “Nighty, Night.” It said.


*          *          *          *          *          *          *          *


         When I awoke I was surrounded by darkness. The smell of mold assaulting my senses like a soldier his enemy. This place was totally silent except for the sound of footsteps above my head.
         I must be in a basement. I thought as I straightened my neck.
         I tried to stretch my cramped legs, but found them bound by itchy rope. My hands were tied in the same rope or something similar, the harsh material already digging into my wrists. I tried to yawn and found that my mouth was full of some kind of cloth, and was held there with duct tape, judging by the smell of it.
         A light turned on and my eyes went white and purple with the sudden change. Footsteps filled the air and a large man entered with a silver suitcase in his right hand and a vivid green apple in his left.
         He looked at me with an interested expression on his face.
         “You’re still alive I see. Truly a pity. I was hoping that being asleep for ten days with out food would kill you. Yes… it is rather… disappointing…” His voice slithered off his tongue like a snake and wrapped itself tightly around my mind.
         He crossed the room and knelt beside me, looking me in the eyes. For nearly a minute all I saw was the pale blue of his irises. I was still groggy, so when he suddenly shifted it made me indescribably dizzy.
         He rose from my side and opened his case, looking carefully at it’s contents before making his choice, a small surgical scalpel. He hefted the scalpel in his hand, twirling the shiny metal between his thumb and forefinger like a small child would twirl a top.
         He knelt next to me a second time, still twirling the sinister blade. He brought the blade up to my face and slid the blunt end across the skin of my cheek.
         “You really are a beautiful girl. It’s a real shame that something so beautiful wont’ last as long as the world had hoped.”
         He turned the blade in his hand and brought the blade to my skin, slicing it in a thin line from my left eye to my ear.
         I tried with all my might to scream but the gag held firm and muffled my agonized howl.
         No sooner had I stopped screaming did he repeat this action, the precision of a doctor clearly shining in his eyes. He stared at me and watched me struggle against my bonds like an animal caught in a trap. He spoke and once again his horrid voice came into my mind.
         “I get to cut people up for a living you know. In fact, I get to cut them open from neck to hip and watch their hearts beat. This, however,” he said slicing the pale flesh of my jaw, “I don’t get to do. I never get the rush, the pleasure, of cutting someone just for fun. Especially not a CSI agent. No… this is definitely a first.”
         He dragged the flat of the blade teasingly across my throat and I shivered at the very thought of the cold metal ripping through my flesh.
         He turned the twirled the blade just under my ear, the sensation baffling me.
         Somewhere upstairs I heard a door slam open and the sound of dozens of feet dashing about.
         The killer’s eyes grew wide with terror. His calm countenance shattering like glass thrown out of a car going a hundred miles an hour. The face worsened when he heard some one shout, “Clear!” The police where here and they were searching the house.
         “Well, I may not be able to make as big of a splash with in your case, but at least I’ll be able to say that I made one last kill before I was put on death row!” he shouted.
         At that moment he dragged the blade across my throat. The pain shot through me like liquid fire, burning every cell and molecule of my being along the way. I fell forward and slammed to the floor, the cool concrete almost easing the pain.
         The door to the basement tore open and the police rushed in. Several of the police seized the doctor by the arms wrestling him to the floor cuffing him in a flash of black uniform and silver steel.
         A man rushed to my side with a gun in his right hand. His face and voice familiar.
         “Yuki! Yuki! Can you hear me?! Hold on! The ambulance is on the way!” His face and voice hysteric, an obvious longing for me to live was painted across his face.
         Unfortunately, I never made it to the ambulance. And even more unfortunate, was the fact that the doctor escaped. Killing the three policemen who transported him to prison.
         The doctor was never found. The crime was never solved. I became just another box of evidence, in the cold-case department.