Behind the Wrong Bars

Behind the Wrong Bars Chapter 6

Chapter Six -- Tracking Shadows...without a flashlight

As the shock seemed to freeze the three officers watching me, I stood up from the chair and walked out of the room. I hooked my thumbs into the pockets that I had on the black jeans and strolled down the corridor.

"Hikage!" Someone called out behind me. I tensed as a hand landed on my shoulder and shoved me against the wall. I gasped and coughed, but the hand simply flipped over me and an arm pressed against my chest.

"Gah! What are you doing, Jason?" I snapped, as soon as I figured out who my assailent was. He was glaring at me, one arm pinning me against the wall. I glared right back, the loose strands of my hair falling into my eyes.

"What were you doing in there?" He asked lowly. I titled my head and looked away.

"Whatever are you talking about?" I asked innocently. I winced as the arm pressed harder against my collar bones. "Fine." I muttered. "I went back to the crimescene. I need to know who killed that man and why! It's the only way for me to excersise my mental abilities and criminal or not, every man must be brought to justice. You, me, Sebastian, Killian...even that dead, sightless man." My voice lowered to a whisper. I stared Jason right in the eyes. "Do not think for a minute that you will stand in my way." I hissed. Jason glared, a growl erupting from his throat. He looked about ready to punch me, but then he let me go. He roughly shoved me into the wall again before backing off and walking away. I stared at his back.

"What...what was that about?" I asked the empty corridor once Jason was no longer in sight. I shook my head and scrunched up my nose. I wasn't really concerned about that. I sniffed and turned to walk to the infirmary. Even though chances were that Jason would appear there, I knew that the body would be there as well.

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I slapped my hand over my mouth to stop myself from throwing up at the sight of the man laid out on the table, guts on display - or what was left of them. I, personally, found my strange changes in character disturbing. I had stared at his blood without flinching - much - and yet here I was, trying to keep down whatever food I had consumed in the past 24 hours.

From what I could the man had black-brown hair. This much was once again visible now that he had been mostly cleaned of his blood. He had numerous scratches over his face, the most prominent ones around his missing eyes. His throat was severed, but not smoothly. It was a jagged cut that sliced through his throat box, preventing speech. That would explain why he couldn't call out. Either the cut was intentionally painful and silencing, or the killer had been lucky.

His arms were covered in scratches as well. His chest was decorated with numerous lacerations. As I walked closer and bent over his corpse, I could identify no signs of a struggle. The man was taken by surprise...either that or he had not believed his assailant to be a threat. I stood back. How wrong he had been.

I trailed my eyes up to his empty sockets and stared at them. For a moment, I caught a glimpse of dark brown staring back at me. I blinked and it was gone, but that quick flash was more than enough information for me. I once again looked at the mans hair, and then his large hands. I lifted on and placed it against my back.

Footsteps sounded from outside the door. I quickly dropped his hand back on the table. I didn't want anyone questioning my unorthodox method of investigation. Not when I now knew who the dead man was.

The door opened and the doctor walked in. When she saw me, her eyes narrowed. "What are you doing?" She asked sharply. I gulped and looked down.

"I was wondering if I could have some pain killers please?" I asked softly. She took one look at me and then melted in pity.