The first body was left drained of every single drop of blood. It could have been mistaken for a bloodless crime if it weren't for the crimson streaks on the girls' face. Her terrified expression was frozen as her pierced eyes glared into the nothingness. What looked like her real tears blended in with the crimson streaks on her pale cheeks. It looked random until we learned that it must be the M.O. of the killer seeing as his second victim, my sister held those same markings. It had been an odd sight; she had looked peaceful and unharmed except for the bloody tears that couldn't be washed off no matter how hard they tried. My father, the head sheriff of the Southwood's police station, swore that he would bring my sister the justice she deserved, but things escalated fast. A new body was found nearly every month; Girls would go missing and would later be found with unremovable blood streaks on their faces. The blood was always old, and it belonged to other victims he killed. The stained faces of his victims led most parents to hold closed casket funerals. Only after nearly a year since the murders began did the cops learn that most of the bodies of the bloody faced victims had disappeared. It was a secret that they had yet to reveal to the public in fear of the people of Detroit making a mockery out of them. Surely, they had enough experience in their fields to not be outsmarted by one guy!