Cigarette Smoke ☏✂ Oliver Thredson

The Face of the Murdered

The sun rose again the same way it did every morning. It would reach over the horizon like a massive, spying creature until it was in full view; looking down upon the world in whatever way it did. It's shrill spectacle rays pierced through Doris's apartment curtains and her eyes fluttered open. Her hair felt a mess after everything that had happened. She'd gotten home, looked over her notes for about an hour or so, showered for 30 minutes, ate a pint of cookie-dough ice cream for half that time, and then watched the twilight zone till 3 in the morning. She was stressed out of her mind.

"If I can't help catch Bloodyface within these last two days, I'm going to jeopardize Briarcliff's population, and then there financial income, and then everyone left here to work. Not to mention the people who'd get hurt" Doris groggily mumbled to herself as she wiped a hand over her stiff eyelids. "Sometimes I love my job and sometimes I feel like I'm the Freaking President of the UNITED STATES OF AMERICA!" She exclaimed before practically jumping out from beneath the sheets, her feet hitting the freezing cold tile with a loud slap. "Let's go Dee" Doris told herself before grabbing her clothes and getting ready to leave back to the mental institution.

Doctor Oliver Thredson had a much different night though...

┈ ┈ ┈ ⋞ 〈 The Previous Night 〉 ⋟ ┈ ┈ ┈

Oliver stumbled out of his car, disorientated and onto the wet driveway that led up to his lonely, massive house that stood miles away from anywhere else. His porch light glinted not far from him, like a single firefly among the empty darkness that made the thick wood around him seem like an empty abyss one would never return from. The bright orb above the doorway cast lonesome shadows around the corner of the porch walls, giving the illusion of creatures hands wrapped around the stone, unable to walk into the light.

He rubbed his sweating head that felt like a cinder block mounted atop his heavy, slumped shoulders. His usually lush, pristine groomed locks had fallen downwards over his forehead in a messy, unruly manor and his charming thin glasses were no longer mounted on the bridge of his nose. Though, no matter how unnerved he may have appeared, Oliver Thredson was in fact, smiling. His thin pale lips curled upwards so high across his face, it looked like it hurt. And it probably did.

He looked down at his hands with blurry vision, only able to make out their outline and the red substance dripping from them in frequent splatters at his feet. He killed someone and he knew very well he did. He let out a low grumble, like a laugh boiling in his throat as he reached back into the car and drew out a knife wrapped in a crimson stained purple dishrag. Without another sound, he kicked the door closed and walked up to the front door; promising himself he'd clean his car seat and wheel in the morning. Finally fishing out his keys with his sticky red free hand, Oliver began to unlock his door when he found himself whispering insane driven words into the open air.

"Now you have your evidence Doris..."

┈ ┈ ┈ ⋞ 〈 Present Time 〉 ⋟ ┈ ┈ ┈

Doctor Bonneville tiredly pulled her black Packard Twin Six up to the staircase of the institute with a lazy park, hardly realizing she was holding in a breath of air until a long heavy sigh escaped her red glossy lips. She grabbed her bag and was just about to open the car door when she realized that Sister Mary Eunice, the teenager nun, was frantically racing down the steps towards her.

"DOCTOR BONNEVILLE! DOCTOR BONNEVILLE!" She yelled off the top of her lungs, practically throwing herself at the woman as she climbed out of the driver's seat with wide eyes.

"What's wrong Eunice?" Doris quickly inquired.

"IT'S A BODY!" The woman breathlessly exclaimed. "ONE OF OUR INMATES IS IS, OUR PATIENT, THEIR. IT'S. IT'S-"

"Eunice!" She snapped, the young girl slamming her mouth shut at command as her jaw line subtly trembled. "Eunice, caaalm yourself" Doris spoke, her voice airy and light yet sassy in an undetected way. "Now. Repeat yourself, slowly" She added as the young girl took in a long deep inhale before gradually letting it back out. 

"One of our inmates was found dead in their cell this morning" Eunice calmly spoke, her eyes shiny with tears on the brink of falling.

"OK..." Doris mumbled with a troubled expression. "Who?"

"You probably wouldn't know them, but..." The nun paused for a moment to breath. "His name was Michael Kenton" 

"MICHAEL KENTON!" Doris almost shrieked before sprinting past Sister Eunice and up the steps with her long black skirt violently flailing around.

┈ ┈ ┈ ⋞ 〈 ⏣ 〉 ⋟ ┈ ┈ ┈

"I don't understand..." Jason angrily muttered as both himself, Sister Jude, and Doris Bonneville stood in the open doorway of Micheal Kenton's cell. His body was sprawled across the floor, laying in a large puddle of blood that was partially hidden by his scarlet stained bedside. "I just don't understand how he could have gotten a knife into his cell without us knowing!?"

"He was quite clever, I'm sure" Doris breathlessly spoke as she stared over at her last resort to find Bloody face. 

"Please, he was just another nutter. There's no way he would have been smart enough to get that in" Jason laughed before noticing the dark, narrowed look on the woman's face.

"I don't know if you know this Jason, but Michael Kenton murdered his wife and was able to keep it a well hidden secret in his minuscule apartment for over a whole year with constant visits of the police!" Doris hissed as she tightly gripped her notebook in hand till the pages wrinkled. "This man was no nutter, he was an elaborate sociopath with ways of his own; and if you really think he was that stupid and incapable of smuggling a knife into his cell, then answer me this Mr. Jason" She cruelly spat. "Why ON EARTH, are we standing here at his cell looking over his dead body, Hm!? Because I'd really love a few suggestions"

With her spiteful, keen words, the man turned his head downwards to the floor, not saying another word as Sister Jude looked him over with a satisfied smirk.

"This is a murder scene, not a party Jason. Please try to at least act like someone just died"