GarishWhisper
04-25-2011, 04:07 PM
Prologue
June 12th 2011, Manchester,UK. The murders and the corresponding investigation were no ordinary murders and they would leave a scar across the city deeper than anything ever has, and ever will...
Chapter 1
9 :10pm-January 12th 2011 -Ashton Under Lyne
The sun far gone from the most perfect evening for many months,Jessica and her boyfriend, Michael, were enjoying the long walk home from their date. A meal at the local Mexican and a film. A slender 6 foot tall Michael brought Jessica's eye 2 years ago and thought she was never good enough for him, although when the small 5 foot 2 beauty started to talk to him the magic started to spark between them. The spark carried along the relationship for the last few months and kept the flame alight, burning bright in the hearts of them both. The spicy food was washed down tastily with a cocktail and ice cream. The film was a comedy, laughter flew from wall to wall throughout the film and truly held up it's status generated from the media. The date had been perfect and the walk home was set on the horizon. The orange glow flowed through the sky and the clouds were only small spots staining the scenic natural artwork, a night that was full of romance. Michael, the true gentleman, was walking Jessica home through the local park which was deserted, the rumble of leaves were just put down to the wind.
The air stood still until that second. The disturbance created no sound until it hit its designated target. The smell of vodka plagued the night as soon as the bottle touched skin and the shards smashed into little dust of sharp shrapnel. The larger shards caused cuts and some dug into Michael's skull. The pain forced the breath from his lungs, leaving him temporarily winded and before he could wrap in a breath to recover ,a bludgeon slammed with enough force to throw him across the air with his grace flying even further out of him. The world went black around him and the last thing he heard was the screams of his girlfriend, and this would haunt him throughout the following few hours.
The heart rate monitors attached to both of them back at the hospital beeped in sync with each other, every peak and trough of the monitor was in perfect timing and every beat sounded the same. Hours and hours passed with not a single flutter of their eyes, and although the breathing was there, it was shallow and nearly silent, even more silent in the busy and noisy environment of the intensive care unit. 5 hours passed and the heart rate monitors played a few more sounds, beep, beep, beep and finally the synchronism died, as Jessica's heart rate finally started to sharpen and strengthen, Michael flat-lined and just like the synchronism, died.
Chapter 2
3:30am-January 13th 2011- Greater Manchester Police station
The forensic report was seemingly an everyday attack, and the details seemed trivial, even normal
Forensic report, Michael Smith, identified by his mother, Carol Smith
The autopsy has determined that the cause of death was a blunt force trauma to the back of the skull. Listed below are the numbered photographs taken by the forensic photographer, Gary McLeary at the crime scene:-
1- shards of glass from a vodka bottle found at the scene
2-the blood splatter from the victim
3-Blood splatter from the victim's girlfriend
4-Footprints found , Size 8
5- clumps of hair matching the girlfriend
6-undetermined fluid
7- Underwear from the girlfriend
8-An empty cider bottle
9- An empty cigarette packet
10- A cigarette butt
Initial theory is that the victim was hit by a nearly empty vodka bottle to the back of the head, the blood splatter, vodka bottle and the pieces of glass in the victims skull seem to confirm it. The footprints are male but are not a match to the victim. The unknown footprint was probably male. The clumps of hair , fluid and underwear seems to correlate with a rape occurring at the scene. Possible DNA could be acquired from the cigarette butt, empty bottles and the fluid. Fingerprints may be found on the shattered vodka bottle ,underwear and the cigarette packet. Further testing is required to make a final report.
Jane Di Silva was the detective in charge of the case, and this would seem to be any ordinary case for her, she had seen this loads of times throughout her professional career, drunk idiots starting on someone for no apparent reason and the resulting attack leaving the victim and a loved one or friends, innocent in most cases, in a bad state mentally and physically, if not worse. She had seen the damage of alcohol first hand, and the terror it inflicted on people, both loved and strangers. The scars ran deeper than anything else she had seen through her 15 years on the force. Her live was farm from a picnic but she never showed it in work. A head poked it's way round the door and filled the space she loved to see empty.
“DS Silva?”
“Gregory, do I call you DC Sharpe?”
“No Ma'am” said Greg.
“ Well away from the public, I am Jane unless it is formal.” stated Jane.
“You still looking over the Smith case?”
“Yeah,something just doesn't add up”
“What?”
“ The footprints look like a distinctive type, maybe a custom make and although cases like this are generally motiveless, this one may have motive, I spoke to the headteacher of their school and he had a few fights throughout school that escalated throughout the years and there have been many complaints by staff of one member of his class being very vile to him and he retaliated until he met the girl and he calmed down, ”
“Are we going to bring the suspect in?”
“Well we will try and build a further case on him, the pieces of the vodka bottle present a brand that is not commonly sold, a cheap brand which is distinctive to a few shops in the are ,but not many. One of the shops was in the area where the attack happened and I would like to try and get the shopkeeper to identify him.”
Her logic was justified and they took away towards the scene
“Hello there sir, is it possible we can have a word?” asked Jane
“ Yes”
“DS Di Silva and DC Sharpe, Greater Manchester Police, do you remember selling a bottle of Rischkov Vodka to this man last night?”
“Only a few losers buy that crap, he is quite a regular, it's easy to get drunk off of and is cheap.”
“Do you know his name?”
“Yes, Mark Cullor”
“ He is under-age sir, we are going to have to pursue your age sales policy and it may result in the loss of you licence to sale alcohol, luckily, your co-operation may help us persuade the courts to a lesser punishment. We may have to call on you again sir for evidence.”
Chapter 3
6:00pm-January 19th 2011-Greater Manchester Police Station
Mark Cullor presented only one match within the police database, but made for a reading of different crimes in the UK, Rape, assault, burglary, but on all charges except the assault he was deemed innocent, the police reports held that there was a suspicion that there was an element of witness and jury intimidation,but no proof was acquired for the allegation. He was a textbook case for the youth offended, parents split up and he was placed in care, school drop-out and he hung around with drug dealers and gang members, although there was never an arrest for possession even with the common knowledge that he is a regular with a local dealer. An address was logged in the system and it was time to move.
Jane picked up the phone and dialled an internal number.
“PC Millern and PC Kulkam, I need you to go to 234 Manchester Road, I have a lead that Mr Cullor was involved in an assault that occurred in the local area, but when you arrest him, it's now on the grounds of manslaughter. I will sort out a warrant to search for some evidence and please watch out, he has a sheet for violent crimes.”
“Yes Ma'am”
The arrest went less than smoothly for the officers and the chase took 10 minutes and with the squirming he needed dragging into the van with all the cursing under the sun. The interview room presented a less than comfortable background for the interview to occur.
“DC Gregory Sharpe and DC Marcus Miller present in the interview of Mark Cullor, 18:35 June 19th 2011, interview is occuring on the grounds that Mr Cullor is arrested on the manslaughter of Michael Smith and the assault on Jessica Maine. Mark, where were you on the 13th June around 9:00 pm?”
“ No comment”
“Look Mark, we know you were at the scene of the crime, you were identified nearby minutes before the assault so cut the bull and tell us what went on”
“No comment”
“We have a warrant to seize your footwear and your DNA and fingerprints and as soon as we have a match to the DNA and fingerprints and the shoe print we will have enough to put you away for many years. You are a very lucky man by the way, we saw a lot of evidence that a rape occurred, however, on further inspection Jessica wasn't raped, just assaulted. So how about you talk to us and we can cut you a deal.”
“No comment”
“Fine, you don't want to co-operate, then you will have a lot to think about in the cells, interview terminated 19:05 June 19th 2011”.
Jane's office door was closed, her recent home events had caused a lot of problems and her love for the bottle was starting to show as she knocked back her third shot of the whiskey stored neatly away from the world in her drawers. The certain brand was nothing expensive but it helped numb the pain away from her home life and the nasty things she deals with on a day to day basis. For years, the make up had hidden the bruises fine but recently the bruises had got so see-able that even the make up couldn't hide it. The knock came heavy on the door as she knocked back the shot.
“Enter” she proclaimed and with that Greg and Marcus came through the door, with the case file built for Mark Cullor and a glum face of being fed up with the same interviews happening again and again with the young culprits.
Her mind lapsed into a new place, and a figure stood before her, a blonde girl, white with blonde hair and blue eyes stood right in front of her. The look on her face made her seem distant, far from the world in which she stood in. The air between them was filled, but the feeling in her mind was that nothing was between them, the desk, the computer, even the other officers were just missing from the room. The figure stood there, looking directly at her with empty eyes.
“Hello” said Jane. No reply came from the figure, not even a breath
“Jane?” asked Greg “ Who are you speaking to?”
“Hello” said Jane a second time, this time rising from the chair and starting to walk over to the figure it still stood there with no reaction. Jane's hand reached over to the figure, trying to grab her hand, thinking it was just a drug addict that she was seeing, but the air was empty, the hand wasn't there , it was just a vision, a void of nothingness
“Ma'am?” enquired Greg again.
“Yes Greg”
“What was that all about?”
“Nothing Greg, right what was the outcome of the interview with Mark Cullor?”
“The normal thing you get from people this age, No comment, no comment. But the fingerprints and DNA sample have been seized through the warrant and his alibi doesn't hold up. The samples have gone to DNA and we have enough of a case to charge and hold him.”
“ Go for it Greg, make sure he is held until we can confirm him through the DNA”
“Yes Ma'am” and with that , Greg and his colleague left the office .
“What was with that?” Jane asked herself as she looked down on her hands, shaking from the shock of the recent events. She took the bottle of whiskey and poured herself another shot, to try and calm her nerves so she can carry on working on the case at hand, but the sight plagued her for many nights ahead.
Chapter 4
1:17 pm - June 19th 2011 - Rochdale
A dingy dark corridor. A dark corridor that even the light of day in all its radiance cannot break. Broken lights and the few that weren't broken were covered in dust. The grey walls and ceiling gave this building a feeling of a millennium ago. An atmosphere that would make any man cringe upon entry. All of the people who walk this corridor day by day, hour by hour, feel no love for the place they spend hours and hours working in. The final few years of its existence as it rots down soon to become a faded memory , once a place of happiness now a place of darkness . The prospects of hope and miracles , to produce the next big thing, the next major expert faded like the dreams of many young children who walk in here with the want to be the next Manchester United superstar or the next big diva. Teachers of passion and love for what they teach, with want to help, now replaced by university graduates that have lost enthusiasm and just do it to get by until their big break. The school that stood just over 10 miles from one of Britain's biggest industrial cities and one of the biggest universities for scientific advancement. Thoughts that once flowed of some students going to university and being a major part in history now replaced by who's going to be pregnant first? This was the Manchester of the early 21st century, an abysmal city, a once proud city, now the shreds of the pride of those who built this city now litter the streets.
Marcus , just any other schoolboy, acne placing itself firmly on and marking the dot to dot of adolescence on his face. His first year at secondary school. Lacking the fabric of popularity that swarmed other kids like wasps made him an easy target, head down the toilets (with the smell of urine and faeces that were still in the loo, just to make it all the more awful), beating up after school, name-calling and other typical 11 year old nastiness. Telling himself it was all worth it in the end and the pendulum that is karma would swing the other way and hurt them three times worse in the years to come, brining on immense unbearable pain which would ruin their lives and end up resolved in the bottom of a bottle. Being smart and generally good at all subjects was a disadvantage, he felt his life had no direction to it, no way to go from here but this would only be a problem if he can get through it. As a young lad he still had his young dreams and aspirations of the lifestyle of the famous, but was old enough to realise these were dreams and the probability of this being reality was fading like the excitement of a new school. Depression started to take over , only presenting slightly in the first half of this year. The days droned on and on and he survived day to day and took every challenge head on. He never seemed so insignificant, although smart, he was never going to be something to be wrote down in history. Not a peep would fly his way from the girls sat on the other side of the crater of the classroom although he had a special thing for one young girl. A cute little brunette he had started to notice a few weeks ago and although she wouldn't look at him twice now, the idea that in a few years time something would spark and cause them to become one was still in his mind.
The boys who bullied him were sporty, never smart enough to string together a sentence that did not involve “innit” or “boys”, self absorbed in being the alpha wolf in the school. Their image was more important to them than their future. Cancer breathing down their throat and the nicotine holding the string on the ever clogging vessels that will one day clog the plumbing and stop the lifeline from carrying on. Drugs, cigarettes and treating women like ****, this was the “cool” way. The ignorance that plagues their minds will eventually be their downfall. A lonely future ahead of them, many hours of their life spent lying in their own blood , and their hands covered in the blood of guilt that will bear over them for many years. Marcus may have nightmares about the future, but these people will later on in life have night terrors and wake up screaming and sweating thinking of the things that they did years ago and the torment that they put Marcus and the many more that went through what Marcus did over the five years that they inflicted terror on. Some run, some stay. The ones who stay eventually show their strength by succeeding through all the nastiness.
March 31st started like another day, waking to the smell of slightly burnt toast and the nasty odour left behind by his dad's breakfast a few minutes before. Marmite, he thought, it's true that it's a love it or hate it thing. His mum had his jam on toast ready for him to eat as he rushed out of the house. Bag flopping around his right shoulder ,toast in hand and slamming the door behind him, another day in hell begins. On the long walk to school abuse was yelled at him left right and centre. It used to be easier to ignore before on of the year elevens beat him and stole his ipod. £100 down the drain, and he isn't going to have that kind of money for a long time. The hard hitting sounds of heavy metal flowing between his ears not only drowned out the nasty comments and passing on of other people's inner misery but gives him a place where he can be happy. That day many months ago left permanent scars not only on the outside but inside too. The blood rushed from his forehead like a fountain and the pain was immense bursts and shocks through his whole body. The memories of that still ripple on the pond of calm in his head, bearing a wave of disturbance and nightmares with it, nightmares that always felt all too real.
Arriving at school the “cool” kids threw their burnt out cancer and tried to inflict pain and misery, but they blew away in the wind to fall to the ground as stubs of karma and a habit that would engulf them for life. Maths to start the day, always a subject he enjoyed, although his teacher was useless and the other kids were already starting to experiment with poppers, the only experiment the idiots of the class ever did . Always trudging on through the work and eventually the end of it. Next along, science, making circuits and drawing diagrams, not exactly the best of fun , especially with Mr cool behind him nudging him in the back and spitting at him. But the worst of this was yet to come, sport. Bully central, during the football match nasty tackles were their attempts at causing more misery and in the shower, teasing and towel whips that don't hurt but embarrass will bring misery. Leaving the school grounds for his lunch break allowed him a little freedom as long as he avoided them. He crossed over the local park thinking he was safe and alone, that today he was lucky, however, this was was just positive thinking and he was followed into the forest. The lad from science had chose him as his target and pounced on Marcus, throwing punch after punch to his face, ribs and anywhere he could hit. His grubby nasty hands reached into Marcus' pockets, fumbling for anything which he could use as a sign of victory, another nerd beaten and shown who's boss. All that he had was a little money which he was going to buy a sandwich with. The lad and his “gang” ran in fear of being caught and left him sobbing in the forest, alone and getting more and more depressed as the moments went on.
The darkness that the forest bestowed on this cloudy day gave an eerie aura to it and it seemed like that this darkness would become Marcus' life forever. The dark hid anything, anyone, and all seemed quiet, alone. This time he was not alone, a deep dark corner of the forest glowed a tint that reflects the darkness of his day. My eyes glowed with an eeriness that reflected the forest, that made me blend in with the rest of the forest. Their glowing was almost hypnotising , drawing Marcus closer to them. Almost seconds later the world went black, the daggers that were my teeth sunk deep into his throat, blood spraying over the area and soaking the my mouth, the taste of the blood forcing my teeth deeper and deeper into his veins. The flesh developing the experience further, giving a texture to the taste and satisfaction to the kill . Feeling the last squirms in the last moments of life in the prey, the last spasm of feeling, sense and emotion gave a new depth to the satisfaction. A feeling unsurpassed by anything else that I could ever be experienced. Eating dead animals just couldn't give the same feeling as that last moment, the flow of the blood and the feeling of true triumph.
Chapter 5
1.10am - June 20th 2011- City Centre of Manchester
The dark alleyways of the smoky city centre are a haven for the ladies of the night. This was a normal night for Maria. Scoring up and injecting the sweet ambrosia that numbed the pain. A nectar to take away from her conscience mind what she had become, selling her body to strangers just to get to the next hit. When she was high, she felt nothing, but the realisation of the worthlessness that flowed through her soul and made her whole existence not even worth the pittance that she was receiving from the monstrosities that separate so easily from their cash for things they cannot get through the sensation of falling in love. Love was not always absent for Maria though, far from. She was like any other girl for her childhood, playing with dolls and being daddy's favourite. The air of puberty changed this, and although she was liked at school by her peers, an interest in a young dark haired young man found its way into interrupting her studies and her social life. His tempting accent , his slim slightly muscular physique and his way with words all found a way to her heart and melted right into her arms. Two years of blissful love and tenderness was shown to her by her mysterious stranger. He introduced her to vodka and recreational drugs, and he was spiralling her down towards hell. That night just seemed like a normal late shift for Maria , scanning items through a checkout, taking the money and repeating monotonously until the clock struck 2am and she walked home .Unlocking the door and walking into the flat they both called home and both worked hard at only 16 to keep over their heads. Step by step she crept up the stairs towards their bedroom, nothing unusual, just making sure that she did not wake up her man in the process. Twisting the knob of the door and slowly moving the wooden block inward towards the room, she saw him naked in their bed, along with the slut who , until that point, was her best friend. The smell of skunk hung around the room with the air of betrayal, a smell that hung on her nose for twelve years after this and would keep her disturbed for years to come.
Tonight seemed to be the same as every night she has had to endure for the last 10 years. Her head flew up in the black clouds that hovered over her head, she asked every Tom, Dick and Harry that came by her if she could “ give them a night to remember for just a tenner” and most men responded, giving her glares out of the corner of her eyes. A few desperate obese men would take her up on her offer of oral sex and other things she could show them to sponge more and more money out of them. After her first few “customers “ , the buzz of the ambrosia started to fade up into the clouds like the evaporating rainwater that started to settle its home on the rooftops of the buildings that litter the streets. The darkness grows as the night progresses and as her sanity returns, the darkness seems all too real now and the world seems to be more and more like an endless abyss than home every time the dark surrounds her. Her deep desires for tonight are to get hold of the fix she needs to fill the empty hole left in her life by the broken heart that no matter what happens, the seal is never quite watertight. The love that runs through her seeps out into every pore and evaporates from her skin and after 12 years, there's very little of it left to seep out. Her life is only just existence , not a life. After approaching the next man for another “good time” she was taken up for a lot of good time. A dirty forty year old very overweight man with nothing to gain and nothing to lose, a dead end job and a waste of space alcoholic with weird fetishes and sexual preferences that would make the sickest of men cringe. Donkey punching and abuse were at the top of the agenda for this night of sexual deviances, as the barbaric acts were very rarely agreed to by most of the men‘s wives. The bruising left a snake pattern This would be one night Maria would definitely soon not forget and the bruises may heal over , but the memories will never leave and for that , her mind burns in its own internal hell . The fires burn her until her body forces tears out to cool down her fire. She cries for the burning in her mind, she cries for her past, she cries for the mistakes she made. The alleyway slum that she created for herself seems the closest thing to home that she will see in the many years that she has left of this hell. The cardboard box that she slumps over her sickly body provides no shelter from the cold and the wind that fly through the alleys and streets that take years to perfect the art of finding anything in a city like this. Comfort and ease are two ideas that will never happen in a hell-hole like this. The alcohol and drugs that she pumps through her body daily make this bearable, the whiskey provides a warmth deep in her soul that radiates to the whole of her body. The nightmares swamp her sleep , throw her upright in fits of screams and floods of sweat and tears . Haunting moments of the past, fears of the present and the uncertainty of what is left to come.
They stand before her, the faceless army. The palms start forcing her side to side, she sways in the forceful movements of the evil. The first fist flies and hits her cheek with a hard, thunderous thud. A hard footballers kick flies into the same cheek and she flies across the empty space in a roaring yell of agony. Her head flies into clouds that she has never seen before, the weakness of her body shoots itself up into her head and she can't even pull her head up, let alone her whole body. Her last moments seem to be an agony that will never end, an oblivion. Her last spark of energy comes out into an agonising ear-piercing scream.An ear-piercing scream that throws out of the dream and into the nightmare of reality. A great bludgeoning blow bays down on the side of her head, and consciousness scurried away from her body to escape the reality that bestowed her. An easier bait, an easier kill. A somewhat less satisfying kill. The blood only trickled slowly , dripping , tantalisingly tapping the tongue with a hand of pleasure. The squirms are not as before, the silence of the kill lack any of the previous pleasure that fired endorphins through my mind and forcing happiness to the darkness of my soul.
Chapter 6
5.01am- 20th June 2011 - Rochdale
“Here in the normally quiet town of Rochdale, an act of viciousness beyond bearable realms has taken place. A young ,yet unnamed boy, full of dreams and aspirations found torn to pieces in an inhumane attack. Local police have been called to the scene and although many chunks of the boy are missing, they are hoping for positive identification of the body and to inform the family as soon as possible. After a few hours of investigation, police are looking into a possible animal attack and although animals with the instincts to attack a human this badly do not normally make home in this area, it is the only possible conclusion that can be made from the wounds found on the body. An official autopsy and identification will occur within the next few hours and we will deliver you the results first, this is Rebecca Marish, for the lunchtime news, back to the studio.”
“ Damn reporters, they know nothing, the bruising on the victims body is clearly human, the victim was left for dead before the animal ate him” claimed the forensic officer.
“There’s nothing we can do about it , we have a task to get on with, stop complaining and start working”
“Yes ma’am”
“ What can we piece together up to now DC Smith?”
“We’ll, multiple bruises were obtained during the attack, a preliminary cause of death looks to be blood loss but the bite marks seem to be an animals, not a humans. The young boy seems to have also gained a few other bruises, but they don’t match the bruises left by the main attacker, they seem almost paw shaped in comparison to the others.”
“Paw shaped?”
It almost seemed like another bullying attack, but this was more vicious than the normal beatings young lads got in this area, even the roughest attacks recorded by schoolboys weren’t this vicious. The puzzle ran riot in DS Silvia’s mind like a young child with a new toy. The motive for the first attack was a schoolboy bullying situation, but with no motive and the chance of the second attacker not even being human, this case seemed strange to say the least. Even the autopsy report was not very conclusive:-
Name-Limter, Marcus
Apparent Age-12
At the Royal Oldham Hospital Date June 11th 2011
External Examination- Well nourished, 5ft 2ins, 140lbs. Rigor mortis has only just begun to set in. Bruises were caused roughly half an hour before death, and from my years of experience, this was caused by a human hand, slightly smaller than an adult . The bruises seemed to be concentrated around the face and the stomach. Large penetrating bite marks were found on the neck and around the shoulders which have caused the loss of blood, however with a bite radius of 8cm, a human would neither have the bite radius nor the penetrating power to inflict these wounds . Large pieces of flesh have been removed and the leftover flesh had an edge that corresponds to the idea that a potential animal attack. Small marks were found over the body from what seemed like paw prints, leaving light bruising generally except from around the shoulders.
Internal Examination-Blood in the body was 30% ,the attacker drained the body thoroughly before leaving the scene. All organs were of normal size for a human being of his age and size, and no damage to any of the organs except minor natural decay post death. All teeth were still in the mouth and all bones were intact,no damage to the spine or skull . No scars from previous operations or wounds.
Other Remarks-At the scene liver temperature was recorded as 34.3ºC placing time of death at 13:12 two hours after the discovery of the body. Most likely a dog attack caused the death, blood tests are being run to test for the potential presence of rabies in the dog so local residents can be warned. The next of kin has been informed and has identified the body as the named person above.
Cause of death- Blood loss due to puncture wounds.
Signed
Dr Michael Nickols
The short autopsy report proved very useless towards the investigation .
“DS Silvia, come quickly, we’ve just had a report of gunfire in the area and officers are needed urgently”.
A short car journey away was the home of Dianna Limter, a council house on a rough estate. The door was open just slightly. The corridor seemed so long. The carpet , a grass green, now a deep shade of red, the yellow walls splattered with blood and the body of a woman, early 30’s, laying on the floor. The shotgun barrels has drops of blood on the front and the angle of the shot showed this was suicide. A mother torn from her son, a broken woman damaged beyond repair with nothing left , left all but a splattered wall and a few empty bottles of whiskey behind.
Chapter 7
9:28am- 21st June 2011- Greater Manchester Police Station
The whiskey was digging into her mind further and further with every shot she took, the memory of the last vision was still etching the scars deep in her mind. The burning sensation down her throat slithered it's way and the tears started to show through her eyes. The watering sensation welled through and started to dribble down her cheek. As she looked up she saw a set of swings in a park , the grass green and sparkling with the early morning dew and the swings were slightly rusty, the paintwork chipped away from the framework, the red of the frame withered away with the changing weather conditions. The orange rusted iron frame was in need of more than just a new coat of paint. The fabric on the seats were worn and torn from years of use, soaked with urine from the young and alcohol from the teenagers. The blonde figure from before swung easily from one of the seats and the gentle rocking was almost relaxing, the sight of that same blonde figure with the same piercing blue eyes made the mental scars flare up again. The girl wasn't the same age this time though, she was probably older than the previous hallucination, maybe by a few years, but it was definitely the same figure. The swinging figure said nothing, just a haunting giggle came from her mouth, a childish giggle with a piercing eeriness that scared Jane.
“Hello? Who are you?” asked Jane, but the figure kept swinging, the giggling started to increase in frequency, and with each giggle, the eeriness increase and the shivers started to creep down Jane's back. The girl started to smile, a smile started to stretch across her face , and the shivers became a scream of terror. All Jane could do was close her eyes in fear and hope that it would make the vision go away, she didn't know who it was or what it meant, it was just a vision of an unknown girl.
As her eyes opened the swing was still there, she was still giggling, as she was before ,still smiling. The door was not even inches behind her as it swung open, the door flew straight through her, with no physical stop to it, just flew right through the space that the girl was occupying, not phased at all, still smiling, still giggling. Greg entered the room looking as white as a sheet.
“Ma'am, we have found another body with the same sort of injuries as Marcus, this time more vicious and signs of assault prior to death were present on the body. The body was found in a back alleyway by one of her regular customers...” Greg's voice started to trail off into nothingness as she still carried on to stare into the vision, still there, still giggling.
“Ma'am? We need to leave now”
“Yes Greg, lets go”.
Arrival at the scene was not a pretty sight,a bloody splattered alleyway, torn clothing, the face battered and bruised beyond any recognition, the CSIs on the scene were even struggling to come to terms with the murder, the bite marks looked too animal for human, yet too precise for an animal attack, an animal would attack wherever it could get it. The photographs were taken for the case to be built against the offender, but this was definitely not a normal case.
Jane spent the rest of the day in her office, the scars of the visions still burning in her head, but the vision was not in front of her this time, instead, the desk was split into two sections, one side of her desks had the pictures of Marcus, and one with pictures of Maria, no noticeable connection between the two victims. One was a small boy, loved by many and innocent, bullied but tried to enjoy high school, the other was a prostitute, left school at 15 and had no contact with her family or friends,just customers. A few bite marks seemed to fall in the same places, one bite to the throat, one bite to the left leg and a third to the left arm. The rest of the bites were random, seemed to have no correlation to each other.
The DNA tests would take a few months to process and to correlate any match between the saliva found on the bite marks on Maria or Marcus. But Jane had her suspicions, although the links were minimal, the murders seemed almost too coincidental to be unconnected ,the correlating bite marks made sense and the sections of the body weren't with the deceased with either of the victims showed a clear correlation.
Chapter 8
5.50pm-20th June 2011 - Withington
Car sales was never his desire. Not even running the business just mulling over paperwork and completing the sale, throwing people into finance deals that they could not afford and selling the odd dodgy second hand motors. A few assault and burglary charges spoilt his criminal record and although most of him had turned a corner, not all of him had. The assault happened years ago, at 19 he was confronted by a young man who was slightly drunk and wanting a fight. He was never one to back down from a scrap and he threw the punches thick and fast. Each punch hit perfectly,face,stomach, face, head,shoulders,face,nose,ribs... This guy was not going to lay a hit on him and by the time the police dragged him away not even the guys wife could recognise him. Time to heal the physical wounds, 3 months, time to heal the mental, eternity.
The following three months in prison served in prison, this fighting spirit was knocked cleanly out of him, many confrontations over food occurred and the dialogue rarely varied wore out the fighting spirit until it fizzled into a nothingness. One of the ones which had a reverberating effect presented itself early in his time in prison and was a clear memory for many years.
“OI! That's mine” George would shout at the fellow prisoner
“What you gonna do about it?” would come from the other prisoner as he squared up to George
“You don't wanna mess with me” said George edging closer
“You??” questioned the other prisoner as he further closed the gap
“Yeah,me!”
“ You and who's army”
“I don't need an army to take you out”
“You'd need a country to take me on”
“I doubt that, I could take you out with my bare hands
“Is that a threat little man?”
“No ,it's a promise”
“Give me your best shot then ,and see who comes off worse”
The words flew fast and the punches even faster , and even after a few punches , the guards had only just started to try and pull them apart, and before they could succeed, even more punches had been landed.
“I WILL PUT A KNIFE IN YOUR BACK!” Screamed the prisoner
Yelling back at him,“OH YEAH? TRY IT” as the prisoner came flying from George
George was very lucky that only one of these confrontations ended in the threat being a promise and he ended up in hospital for 2 weeks as the wound healed. Inches separated the knife from his heart.
Since his release everyone thought it taught him a lesson, however, his wife knew otherwise. No cracks in the façade showing through during the year before and the first year of the marriage. Eventually, the cracks showed through the whitewash and the violence trickled back through slowly. It only started as pushing, and escalated. The slaps showed their ugly face in their marriage each getting more aggressive and his excuses just got worse and worse. She started to disintegrate into a shell of her former self, the drink started to creep back into her life, slowly just to ease the pain, and slowly the drink started to take away her social life, and she slipped deeper and deeper into the abyss of her former life, before she dragged herself out.
Walking home from work, he thought of the tea he had demanded from his wife, his favourite, chicken curry and chips with fresh naan bread, it has to be fresh otherwise she would certainly see about it. The walk home was a refreshing brisk walk through the park and the breeze was a calming rub along his back, he felt it smoothly flow over his back. The wind threw the trees slightly to one side with the wind and the orange glow through a romance into the air that would melt even the toughest of heart but the aura didn't even scrape the edges of the cold metal heart that existed in George.
The dark bush was the perfect hiding place for me, my dark body was perfectly camouflaged from the perils of being seen by the humans, and scared away by the people who I was hunting. His foot lay just before my eye-line, the bite flew from my position to his foot so easily, I sunk into his flesh with an ease and with a smooth movement that showed why I was here, the scream started to ease its way from his mouth when I sunk my teeth so deep into his throat that I snapped his vocal chords. The scream murmured its way through George's mouth but it was just a small noise and didn't even perforate the space inches away from his body. Not even the nearest person heard him and with his back turned and the swiftness in my attack. I dragged him quietly away from the sight of other people and started to digest him, I felt his whole life essence, his soul, flow through my mouth and slide down my throat, and the warmth of the feeling down his digestive system filled me.
The carcass was down to very little , a half digested face and a skeleton. The sight was pure beauty for me, I was nearly through my task and my survival was nearly certain. However, my view was not seen by a local resident, who saw my beautiful masterpiece and decided that although his lunch was probably very tasty, it left a very delayed bitter after-taste in his mouth as the half digested food flew at a high speed back through his digestive system and projected itself through the air at an almighty speed. At that point I knew my time was running out. At this point, I knew that all I can do is run and hope that although some of him is still left, that I have drained enough out of him to release him. The people started to gather around the corpse, and the vomiting carried on, and the mixing of the vomit started. All I could do was run, it was only a matter of time before one of them had a stronger stomach and decided to try and capture me to see if they were to kill me before my task was finished or whether I would be in captivity for further testing.
The darkness started to feel more comforting, as the moon started to defeat the sun in it's fight for the sky. A mini war that has waged on in the eternia for many millenniums. I started to fade into the night and become another insignificant figure within the night. I faded away from the world,
and for now, I will rest, but only for now.
Chapter 9
6.50pm-20th June 2011 - Stockport
“Mummy ,Mummy, look what I've made” proclaimed Nishka in her perfect and innocent childlike manner, holding her card out at full arm stretch to her mother. Every day for Julia was like a dream come true, she had everything she could desire, a loving husband of five years, a career in the retail industry that was propelling her to bigger and better things with every year. Every day seemed like a dream, the hours may have been long occasionally, but she knew Nishka was safe in the hands of her husband. After two years together, Nishka came as a bundle of joy to them, and with the twins due within weeks, her hopes for a pair of boys was bubbling through her. She had started her maternity leave a week early to spend some extra time with her little girl before she was swamped under. This was going to be her time, her little family of her dreams. The names had already been decided as soon as they found out they were having twins, James and Sean for boys, Louise and Molly for girls. The labour a fortnight later was long and hard and with Nishka in the care of Julia's older sister Alice, it was just her and Nick, waiting hour upon hour, through the bursts of screams of pain, to finally see the life brought into the world , the two little boys looking up into the eyes of their mother and father. The love Julia felt for these boys was immense, the indescribable love from a mother to her sons. The pain seemed irrelevant compared to it. That was ten years ago.
Father time certainly had his way with everyone, especially Julia. Her once amazing looks now just a shell of its former self. The stress started to present itself in the bags dangling under her eyes, dragging the weight of the world down on her. With the boys ready for going to her sister's ,she slowly approached her daughter's room. The eeriness as she walked towards it always crept along with her , never knowing from one day to the next how time has changed her daughter, Nishka seemed different to Julia every day, as puberty and adolescence took hold and although the innocence of the girl with the card was still there, adolescence's ugly head still reared around and showed itself every so often.
A cough sprayed it's way through the stagnant air surrounding the bedroom, the eeriness seemed to suddenly vanish as Julia poked her head around the door, looking in upon the bright pink room. Although the curtains were drawn, the sun always seemed to win the fight against them.
“Nishka, are you okay?”
“No, I think I'm coming down with a cold mum, I really don't feel well.”
“Well you stay in bed hun and I will get your dad to bring you up some soup before he goes work. The key will be where it normally is and we will both have our phones on us when we are at work. What soup do you want?”
“Tomato please” came weakly from Nishka.
“Love you and I will see you tonight” replied Julia , evidently showing all of the love she bears for her first born, from that first day she looked down on her laying peacefully in her arms.
Work was as normal for the newly promoted Julia.
“Today's agenda ladies and gentleman, is the approaching “End of summer Sale, we need to find items falling into three categories, firstly, congratulations gifts for people to buy their children who have just passed exams, secondly , student deals, for students going back to school, college and university. Finally, we also need to, as always, find items which can be reduced in the toy sections, especially preschool toys for mums to give to their children who are with them whilst the others are at school.”
The meeting rattled on for half an hour, discussing current trends, the greater sellers and the profits available if some of the items went to certain offers. Eventually, they decided that a lot of the older products could be recycled with the offers changed and the team decided to take further time to decide. Six hours later and her section of the report was ready for tommorow's meeting. The car ride home seemed longer than normal, the traffic heavier than normal and her phone being dead did not help, the worry did flood over her like the stagnant air that surrounded her this morning on the way to Nishka's room.
She parked up in the drive, and just sat there, she felt cold. When she finally gained the courage to enter the house, the silence didn't make her feel any better, not even the coughing from upstairs. She walked upstairs to Nishka's room,and opened the door. She looked around the corner to see her daughter, laying there in a pool of her own blood, her sheets stained a deep red, her digestive system hanging out on the bed, stewing in the leftover pints, chunks were missing from her body and bite marks all over her. Her pink carpet was smeared with markings, paw-prints even, and there were droplets, like raindrops on the window of life. Her soul has left the room, along with the whatever caused this attack. The shock flooded over Julia like a bad dream , the breakdown had only just begun . She huddled over her little girl, embracing her trying to bring forward the last small bits of life from her , trying to feel her before she passes on, all to no prevail.
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