As the Blood Runs Down the Walls (Gerard Way x Reader)

(Chapter 3) A Drink For the Horror That I'm In

We told everyone to return to their rooms for the rest of the night and to try to get some shut-eye. I highly doubt anybody could even think about going to sleep with the horrific tragedy that had taken place. For there was a murderer on the loose in the hotel and what could be more terrifying than the idea of your life being able to be taken in a matter of minutes.

 Of course, we both instructed to lock and barricade the room doors with anything they could find just in case somehow the locks could be obstructed from the outside. I wouldn't trust those old-fashioned latches since they were god knows how old. I will say even though the hotel was a beautiful building, you could tell it wasn't newly constructed; it showed its age. I'm not saying it was dilapidated or anything, just a smidge outdated. 

I lied restless in bed, in a perpetual cycle of tossing and turning. I would settle in one position for a minute, then decide I was uncomfortable and reposition yet again. It wasn't the aged box spring mattress that was causing so much unpleasantness, but the situation at hand looming over my slightly shaken body. 

I had been on countless crime scenes in my fourteen years on the job, but this one felt different. There was just something that was off about the whole thing that caused a sense of confused uneasiness in my mind. This person was so brazen to murder someone in a hotel with no escape. There was no way to flee their fate now that the snow had set in, so this kill radiated a cocky attitude. The only way to leave was on foot which was only straight doom. The near thirty miles into the closest town trekking in this raw cold would kill you from hypothermia. Whilst I was still wide awake, I analyzed the known facts about the case in my mind. I came to the conclusion that this was definitely not their first murder. 

Morning arrived excruciatingly slow. Even though there was no change in how fast the clock ticked to the next number, it felt exponentially slow compared to usual. I stretched my arms out and with a heave-ho, I was on my feet and heading to my suitcase for suitable clothes. 

"Frank wake up we have to get ready and fast," I called as I dug through my suitcase, eventually finding an outfit. 

"Ugh fine," he groaned rubbing his eyes and looking at the clock. Six forty sharp it read. "I have you know that I hate getting up this early," He commented as he rolled out of bed. 

"Well I'm sorry somebody died so you have to wake up early," I said with a fake sympathetic tone. 

I rushed Frank to speed up getting ready. We first went to review the crime scene to refresh our minds before taking people's statements. One thing that stood out to me that I hadn't noticed before was the type of knife that was left at the scene. This was no ordinary dinky knife, but a pretty high-quality chef's knife that looked as though it could only come from the kitchen. The victim had a fairly deep stab wound on her neck accounting for the substantial amount of pooled blood encircling her body. Her blood-spattered nametag had 'Evelyn' written on it. We started with Ray to get some basic information about the hotel and how things worked around there. 

All his responses were pretty unnoteworthy, to say the least. Just the usual that checked out. I had him off the suspect list in my mind since he was managing the front desk during the time the incident occurred. He gave some information about Evelyn, the normal how long she's been employed there, and all of the personal information he could muster. 

Moving on, we talked to a couple of guests that heard the scream or were in close proximity to the murder when it happened. Finally, we began an interview with the head chef of the hotel. 

"Please state your first and last name," I started, looking at the man in front of me with a straight face vacant of any emotion. 

"Peter Wentz but I prefer Pete," He answered with a shaky voice, him tapping his foot nervously against the floor.