Chapter Two: Hot Accomplice

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Disgusting

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Disgusting.

Anyone can tell it was once a well furnished room. However, it is now nothing but a slaughterhouse. The walls and tiles are bathed in fresh crimson liquid. On the large glass window, is blood splattered like an accidental paint splash. The bed sheets are crumbled, soaked in red fluid.

After my resolve to leave no stone unturned regarding the murder spree and proving that old pervert wrong, I have decided to start from what I came across first. The latest victim, who was murdered tonight. Thus, I'm now here, in the middle of the blood river. That means, he was murdered here, in his own room.

The thunderstorm hasn't stopped yet. Rather, it only got ferocious. The blood splattered glass window trembles as it is getting molested by the harsh force of the wind. Despite the return of electricity, the ominous gloom from this place hasn't faded.

It still feels like the murderer is here. The murder is happening at the moment. And I'm the witness.

Just by the sight of the corpse and now, the crime scene, I can feel the barbarism of the slaughter. How brutal was the process. The bone deep terror of the victim and the lack of empathy of the killer still lingered in the air like thousands of needles, and they all agonizingly pricked my skin.

With a fruitless attempt to distract myself from the ghoulish sight, I venture towards the cupboard first to begin my search. I may find a clue or something useful.

Stepping forward cautiously to avoid putting my feet on the blood pool, I stand before the cupboard. Opening it, I rummage through the victim's pile of clothes. I open the drawers only to find few cash bundles and nothing else. No files or papers.

Odd.

An old man in his early 60s should have papers of at least properties or birth certificate. But nothing is here.

I notice the cabinets at the lower portion of the cupboard. I crouch down and try to open them but they are not opening.

They are locked.

There must be the keys somewhere. I search for the keys in the drawers of the blood stained nightstand, while trying not to gag. There is no key in them. I survey every single place for the keys but alas, my efforts are fruitless.

While walking here and there, I trip on the crumbled, half fallen, blood soaked bed sheets and barely manage myself from falling on my face. But the sheets fall from the bed entirely due to my tripping and the shining object beside the pillow almost make me jump.

Here is the key.

I wish luck was this merciful in every second of my life. I take the key and dart towards the cabinet. I insert the key into the keyhole of the cabinets and the loud click resounding from it form a bliss in my ears.

As soon as I open them, piles of papers rush down to my plopped knees. Finally, my intuition wasn't wrong. I collect the papers and go through them on by one. But to my absolute dismay, they are just nothing but bills of water and electricity.

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