I remember when I saw my fist dead body. I was only 14.
Walking home from an average day at school, there on one of the many street benches that I pass, was a man. Now I had seen homeless people before but he was different. He was still. And pale. Then I saw the blood, right above his empty eyes.
I guess I should have been freaked out or whatever, but I wasn't. I just had an overwhelming sense of curiosity. Why did he die? What did he ever do to deserve death? My mum always said that curiosity killed the cat. I wonder if that's what happened to him, he let his curiosity get the better of him.
After seeing that man I started working as a homicide detective. I felt a sense of duty to him and the other victims to find the people who do these kind of things. And I love the feeling of putting that person behind bars. I find it kind of liberating to have someone like that off the streets. With there being so many deaths in New York every day I think that I kind of forgot about the man on the bench. Well that is till today.
YOU ARE READING
Murder on the not so Innocent
Mystery / ThrillerThere has been a murder! A young girl has been murdered. young and innocent they say but is she really?
