Heart shaped Skulls

Can't Shake It

Today was more gruesome then yesterday. A iron scent flooded my nostrils making them recoil in disgust. The crime scene was dim, the house the murder occurred in was boarded with little care as the wooden boards hang off their rusty nails. The floor was a cheap carpet some of the red material that was clumping off in parts. I gazed to the walls as I went through the entryway, once again a cheap slab of fake wood littered with holes. This place was abandoned. Blood was sprayed in the confined hallway; the killer must've hit an major artery. Further down was a kitchen to the right and past that was a split in the hallway leading to another room to the right with a master bedroom to the left. I peered into the kitchen some struggle was apparent with strewn knives along with the rusted metal knife block laying on the linoleum floor of the small kitchen. I squatted down next to the yellow marker, taking a picture from each side making my thighs go sore from the unwanted attention. I raised back up huffing the red strand of hair that wondered into my vision. Walking down the dusty hallway I was given a choice on which way to go. Hesitantly, I chose the bedroom. The worst things occurred in the bedroom and I only wanted to gets this part done. I trudged my way in my feet feeling heavy with each step. I almost dropped my camera. A female no older than fifteen was strapped to the bed and if I thought it couldn't get any worse well it did. Her blonde hair was clumped with blood as it stuck to her face. Her limbs tied to the bed was severed at the joint laying loosely on the uncovered bed. The victim's midsection naked and cut laid open. I inched closer feeling my stomach flip in it's flesh prison. At the start of the sternum ending at her lower abdomen was a large cut showing the layers of fat and organs. I closed my eyes inhaling and exhaling with a shaky cry. I wasn't helping by gawking, I held the camera more firmly this time as I was next to the bed. I pulled another yellow marker and placed it next to her turned head. Many pictures later I turned and walked out as fast as I could. Matter of fact that was the first time I had to leave a crime scene. Sure I seen little girls butchered and maimed but that had taken a part of me I wouldn't ever get back.

The next day I was packing up hurriedly throwing clothes and knick knacks into their coordinated boxes. I've been planning this for awhile really the city really wasn't my forte, my new home was going to be deeper into Texas. The rural area, more peaceful less cars speeding by. I stopped holding onto my vanity my grandmother had passed down for generations the old mahogany caressed my sweaty palms. I was sickly pale, my horrifying dreams keeping me secluded to the bottom of Jack Daniel's Whiskey as I lay sprawled out on a cheap pull out futon. My bright green eyes dull and glazed over hardly any life emanating from my once beautiful emerald orbs. I let my thick lips lock onto the glass bottle of a knock off Vodka letting the wet fire encase my throat. The green sparkle in my eyes died long ago now only inebriated orbs blown wide with dumb intoxication. I stumbled around my long deep red hair falling stubbornly in my face and taunting my nerves. Bile rised from my throat spilling between my fingers as I attempted to hold the liquid In. It took awhile for my stomach to stop heaving and when it did I wasn't at all pleased. Blood swirled around the green in a morbid, disgusting dance. I put that to the back of my mind agreeing to clean it up when I took a good shower.

The shower was warm and soothed my strained muscles. I then began to take the rag in my hand and lather the soap onto it before letting it drag against my soiled skin. My brain was numb, just how I liked it. A hiss dragged out of my chapped lips, blood drizzled down my fingers and mixing with the water near the drain tainting it pink. A whimper creeped past my pale lips as I noticed the searing pain from the deep cut. Now I hurried as the clotting blood slithered down my arm. The vertical cut the size of my forearm and the width of two fingers was pulsing with plasma. I ran out of the shower the black towel wrapped tightly around the wounds as I fetched medical stitches and disinfectant. Alot of curse words later and crying my arms were stitched and sore, the red around the wounds glaring at me with intense anger. I couldn't go to the emergency room, can't afford it. Once clothed I ran about taking boxes to a old Volkswagen sickly green in color and rusting in some parts. I jumped into the car with a black duffle bag in the passenger along with about five boxes containing all that I owned. Even the things I owned were crappy and falling apart just like me. I was in the road for about an hour when my car began to cry for gas. "Are you serious? I just put some in you!" I drove just a little further till a old and run down gas station came over the horizon. 'Last Chance' it was called, how ironic it was though that this could be my only last chance for gas. I pulled in the white paint wearing down as it was barley visable but still there. Getting out of my car a feeling of dread washed over me. The feeling of doom, or death. I had this feeling alot in my line of work especially when it was a particularly bad murder. I ignored my gut feeling and pushed further as I walked up the concrete stairs the odd reaction making the weight in my legs increase. Ding! Opening the door to the old place a bell above went off making the few locals gaze over in my direction. "Hi Miss, doin' good?" I nodded a slight smile pulling at one side on my busted lips. "Yes, thank you" my voice was just above a shy whisper. Wondering off into the back of the small store I opened the fridge grasping the brown bottle and pulling it beside me the liquid sloshing around. I lugged it to the counter where a tall lanky man sat in a wooden chair. "This all for you ma'am?" He smiled a crooked one his teeth yellow as they showed. "Uh got any gas?" I asked still eyeing his teeth in disgust. "Nope, went dry last week" he stuck his hand out as a heavy sigh slipped my throat. "ID" the older man spoke to which I complied handing over the worn card. "Now, I do own some gas at the ranch I could take you there to retrieve it" he didn't look up as he bagged my whisky. I should say no, to walk away but at this time of the night coyotes would tear me apart. I agreed with a nod and a small 'sure' as I peered at his name tag that was covered with dirt "Drayton, well I'll wait outside for you then" I huffed as I hugged the whiskey to my plump chest "Okay, now I'm the owner of this place and I'll close shortly so you won't have to wait long Miss." I didn't reply as I walked out into the brisk Texas night unwrapping the brown bag and popping the cork out of the liquor. I chugged it, at least three cups worth before I unlatched my mouth a breathless gasp followed with a small cringe. Wasn't my normal poison but it'll have to do. After a few minutes of drinking Drayton came out "ready Missy? Bring a spare clothes" in my buzzed haze only my eyebrows disagreed but my body allowed this to continue as I unlocked my door leaning to the passenger side and grasping the duffle bag. I only questioned why I was to bring clothes when we were nearing his car "why am I bringing clothes? I thought you were going to get the gas and come back?" He shook his head "it's late and I noticed the bags under your eyes that you might want some sleep. Food is on me tonight" he smiled that toothy grin again as he held the door for my buzzed body to climb into the truck. I almost sank into the seat when my sore body came into contact with it, maybe he was right I need some sleep before driving again. It was silent, too silent leaving me to gaze outside taking in the environment subconsciously remembering the roads. "He were are, the Hewitt ranch" he unenthusiastically said as he climbed out of the creaky truck. I dragged myself out of the car nausea clawing into my stomach. The "Ranch" gave the appearance of abandoned for the wood seemed rotten and the white paint peeled off in clumps. The porch wasn't any better, I didn't know any floorboards could be this creaky. He sent the door flying as he kicked it with his boot announcing his arrival. "We have a guest!" Drayton yelled loud enough for the whole household to hear while he lead me through the living room. It was different to say the least. The room was littered with skulls ranging from different types of animals to more questionable bones. The couch was adorn with different animal skins one being a cow and next to this peculiar couch was an old man. Hair barely hanging to his grey dead skin as he laid withered in a wheelchair watching a box TV.
My feet kept walking as I peered around their living space when I collided hard with a hulking form my butt taking the brunt on the wooden floor. "O-oh, sorry little tipsy I guess" I chuckled as a large hand came into shaky view. It was calloused, possibly hardworking. I gripped it my hand compared to his was tiny and delicate. "Thank you" I chirped as I stood on wobbly legs trying to get my vision to focus. When it did I was taken back. This muscular man that stood before me was odd. He wore an leather apron crested with blood and an dingy white dress shirt that was rolled to the elbow a loose black tie hang around his thick neck. My eyes wondered up. He wore a mouth guard, similar to the ones they put on the patients at the asylum if they became "bitey" with the exception of layered grime. But what caught my eyes were the shoulder length black hair that probably needed a good wash. A grunt vibrated from his throat as he stared at my pale features with deep honey orbs probably wondering why I was staring.
Those eyes. They hypnotized me, drew me in.
I can't shake this feeling. I'm falling into a deep hole, and I'm afraid I won't be able to crawl out if I stay.