What you were doing was highly illegal, you knew that; however, you had a very good reason to be in the house. You just needed to see what happened, to get a close-up on it. It wasn't hard to do this either, it's rather disturbing that you could do it this easily so far. If you were going to catch these fuckers, then you needed to get a full view of what they did to their victims.
To your surprise, the fake badge you got a few days ago worked when you flashed it to one of the few cops standing behind the caution tape, probably helped with the small but bulky camera you carried. You still kept your head low, avoiding eye contact with most law enforcement around you, even if there weren't many people around. It wouldn't take long for them to notice you weren't a part of their regular crew, no matter how well your attire helped you blend into the group.
Alone in the living room, you stood in front of a man who sat peacefully on a lounge chair with a giant, bloody hole in his chest. You didn't waste any time taking photos, and the more you took, the more you noticed about the man. The blood was the darkest in the region where the heart was held. Talk about being heartless. If you took off the man's shirt, then you would get a better look at how the hole was caused because from all the evidence identification markers you've seen, the murder weapon was taken with the killer.
Other than the dead man, everything else was oddly clean- it looked nothing compared to the brutalized woman on the sidewalk. While it came out later that the woman was a drug addict, and her cause of death was getting repeatedly stabbed in the face with several syringe needles. The most notable part of that murder was how messy it was, the total opposite of this kill. Sure, blood was visible, but it wasn't everywhere, and the blood coming out of the man's chest was very minimal. Definitely a different motive to kill this man, you could go as far as to say a different killer.
With the recent finding of Amanda having a high possibility of being a killer, you needed to get buddy-buddy to more than the homicidal couple, and more importantly, had to determine another motive with evidence. So now, with each murder that occurs, you have to play Guess Who.
Taking the last of the photos you wanted before you slid out of the house, staying out of sight from the law enforcement around. Easily slipped under the caution tape without being noticed by cops or the crowd like the killers disappeared into the night. While you would've preferred to stay around and learn more about the man or the circumstances of his death, you needed to scram before you overstay your unknown visit. After all, the less time you hung around the crime scene, the less likely chance anyone could pinpoint you at it. Sadly, you would have to wait for the media to release any more information about the man.
As you walked further from the house, you tucked the camera into your backpack before pulling out your walkman. Covering your ears with a pair of headphones, music blasting into your ear while you ignored everyone and everything else around you. The only thing that mattered now was hopping onto your bus. It was by now you realized how fast your heart was racing or how heavily you were breathing. Nerves, that was all. Even if your thoughts were free of the many possibilities of what might happen to you if you got caught, too distracted by being less than 10 inches away from a dead body for the first time, your body still seemed to reprise that role.
You stood in the small crowd that was waiting for the bus. No one said a word to each other. Good. Your eyes darted around at everyone around you, making sure no one was on to you, that no cops weren't after you for your photos, and that no citizens were going to report you for breaking into a crime scene- a high-profile one at that. Tucking your hand into the trench coat jacket pockets as an attempt to warm up your hands, for the crisp breeze was finally getting to you.
As you looked up and down the street for the bus, you felt something lightly touch your shoulder. Nearly jumping out of your skin when you turned around, not expecting to see him again outside of class. You felt stupid that you didn't hear him walking towards you, but that's what happens when you try to block the outside world from you. At least it wasn't a cop in front of you.
YOU ARE READING
THRILL OF THE HUNT - Slashers x Reader
FanfictionPeople getting murdered had become the new norm, and so did the habits you gained from it. Your room was covered in newspaper clippings connected by cliché red string as you began to constantly look over your shoulder since you knew more than you sh...
