Slaughterouse

I stood in the doorway looking at a nightmare. Ribbons, strewn around a pastel room. Red ribbons, crimson and wet upon the carpet, staining black a bloody path. The drip, drip, drip of blood gave a backdrop to this mad and macabre. Yet I had seen this before. In my dreams, and my deepest nightmares fed this blossom to cry. It wept out. A new reality forming as a piece of grotesque artwork on the real worlds canvas.
The new guy, Richard, I think, vomited violently against the one clean wall. ‘Not clean no more’ I mused to myself, yet this was the case. Littering the floor was the remains of what was a young girl less than a day ago. I knew it was a girl, somehow the breast cupped in a white, bloodless hand gave it away. This sick game was too old for me now, it reeked of an uneasiness around the station too. Questions rang in every room and on all the men’s minds was one question.1

Who is this guy?2

I hate having rings ran around me. It always pisses me off, imagine the itches you can never scratch. A thorn in a foot that will not pull out of the meat. It is consuming my thoughts day and night. Outside the room I can see the red and blue of the police cars, shame, they’ll walk through any evidence we could have gotten from this slaughterhouse. I’m glad this piece of shit job is running thin now. ‘Going to get me a cigarette’ Jack, my partner calls over. I let him, I don’t know why, I’m usually such an asshole, something isn’t right, something looks wrong here.3

Who is this guy?4

Suddenly, I’m on my feet, running for the screams, fresh ones, desperate. I knew it was Jacks screams, but I couldn’t place them, so much for a quiet place to die. I fell against members of the force I knew, some were running too, but none the same way. It was pandemonium. 5

I knew where Jack would be.
I knew he would have been in the back alleyway, behind this tenant block. A freshly lit cigarette gave a wisp of sickly white/grey smoke that snaked its way skyward. Puddles reflected the walls, patches of brick on the sheen of wet. The discarded cardboard boxes, splashed liberally with ruby looks so much more vivid now. It was my turn to vomit when I saw what lay beside them, face down, soaked in the falling rain.
6