Adrianna Vincent was an ordinary girl, she wasn't anything special, or so she believed, but she did have the habit of being in the wrong place at the wrong time, people always said that one day that would get her in trouble. They were right. It did.
She had been with her best friend Robyn, Robyn was five foot, orange cropped hair, and a proud transgender man. They were as close as brother and sister, they weren't far from each others side.They had been together in the Whitechapel part of London, they had said goodbye to each other and they had gone their seperate ways home, Dria lived on the far end of Whitechapel, as Robyn had told police in his interview as he was the last one to see her alive.
The entire burrow of Whitechapel had been alerted to the gruesome scene, an old lady, by the name of Mrs James had been putting out her bins, a very mundane start to her day, when she discovered the scene that lay in the cobbled street, the body of Adrianna.
Blood was splattered on the cobbles, on the brick walls, her once vibrantly green eyes had become dull and lifeless, her peach coloured skin now pale, and cold to the touch. When the police arrived, they were horrified, she had been malled to death, her white shirt and black jeans, now ripped and stained with blood. Chunks of flesh were missing, her throat had been torn out, blood painted some of her skin, her stomach had a cut so big it had cut the skin and muscles to ribbons.
Her family had been informed, her mother had sobbed, her father had sat his wife down and consoled her, her siblings and grandparents had been informed, the whole family was morning the death of one they loved, they weren't allowed to see the body, the police had told them it would be much too distressing. Who would want to see their child's body mangled and shredded?
