Nerium oleander

Carrots and Sticks

The structure stood proudly between trimmed bushes and pines. Ivan's hand clenched the necklace tighter, The top of the chapel still remained untouched, chipping wood contrasting heavily with the shining stained glass of the windows.

Ivan felt a wave of warm air hit his face as he opened the car's door and took a deep breath, dizziness subduing slightly. He approached the chapel, the smell of blood enveloping him while the melody of several voices joining together, reached his ears. He stayed still for a moment, leaning against the doors of the chapel before opening them.

A gasp, followed by a wave of coughs that erupted from the crowd sitting inside greeted him. He narrowed his eyes, the aspect of the chapel was untouched as if it hadn't aged a day after he last saw it. Strange.

A nauseating smell emanated from the inside. The floor creaked as he entered, covering his nose with his hand, before his eyes settled on the chiseled angels and golden engravings that framed the altar. For a small town like Adelfa, Ivan admitted that the citizens had a proclivity for dramatics when building the church, and even more so for staying so long to take in the scene before them.

An ear wrenching scream took the group out of its daze, murmurs, prayers and wails coming from them. Laying on the altar was a woman, she had a clean cut on her trachea down to her esophagus, the flesh was pale and her dark locks of hair moved slightly as a gust of wind entered the chapel, bare as she was, she seemed carelessly tossed into the altar, though there were no traces of blood around.

Her body writhed in pain, contorting violently as she fell to the ground, Ivan found himself unable to step back as the woman crawled all the way to where he was, unintelligible sounds leaving her lips as he watched the bloodstained trail she was leaving behind.

A wave of claps resounded in the chapel, hammering on his ears as he finally gathered the strength to retreat, a hand grasped onto his arm and he gasped, closing his eyes and prying the hand away.

"Sir, Sir, are you okay?"

The voice was soft, though slightly high pitched, Ivan let out a breath, opening his eyes slightly. The sunlight hitting his eyes as a small hand was placed on his wrist again, Ivan found himself leaning against the chapel's doors, a small freckled boy looking at him with a mixture of unease and concern on his face.

"You look ill," the boy said, stepping back as Ivan sat on the floor. "I don't have water but I left some of my apple juice from school."

Ivan watched silently as the boy rummaged through his bag before handing him the drink. He took it, giving a half hearted thanks before looking around, the streets were quiet, only a few cars passed by. "You shouldn't be here alone,"

"I'm walking home," The boy frowned, motioning with his head at the parked car. "Plus you're in the police, I'm not dumb. The church is closed, they're repairing it, so no one is going to open the door for you."

"I know," Ivan said, feeling slightly better, at least enough to not stumble to the way of the car.

"Do you need to open it? I'm sure I can fit through the window!" The boy followed him with curious eyes. "Is it cool to be a cop? Do you get to shoot at the bad guys?"

"Do I look cool?" Ivan stopped before the car, giving the child a tired look. "Go home and think about being a firefighter or something, I'm sure that's better."

The comment gained him a glare from the boy before he went away. Ivan let out a breath, he remembered having a similar conversation with Aldrich in the Vargas manor once, it seemed that the comment of looking for other career choices had been as truthful back then as it was now.