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Deepest Cut

Previous short story:
Babycharmer: Backfired?
Next short story:
Four Minutes To Save The World

The first sight the police and forensic team saw was totally horrifying. Cut up body parts were strewn all over the floor, surrounding the victim. Each and every finger on the corpse's hands were chopped off. Blood splattered on the ceiling, walls, sofas and flooded the whole floor. The man was supressing his anger and the urge to throw up on the crime scene.

For goodness sake! He was incharge of this case and this was not the time to become a sissy like the rookies.

Detective Taylor of the crime scene department took out a pair of rubber gloves from his toolkit. He began to snap photos of the brutal murder scene. A neighbour called the police when he smelled something foul from this house. He then informed the cops about the abandoned house.

A decapitated body was found lying facedown beside the smeared red sofa. Taylor inhaled a breath before snapping a picture. This was no ordinary homocide. This was done slowly as he examined the cuts and bruises from the victim's body. The shirt on his back was slashed to shreds.

"The killer must have taken his own sweet time cutting the victim. The jagged lines on the body maybe from a sharp object; presumably a knife." The coroner examined the condition of the body.

"I don't want the media to know any of this until we have a suspect. Got it?" The police chief warned behind his handkerchief.

"That is the least of my problem right now, Greg." Taylor hunched down to pick a strand of thread embedded in one of the slashed wounds. The green material appeared to be some sort of a thread. He inserted it into an envelope for further analysis.

*****

Meanwhile, the killer was attacking a new victim. The helpless man was half naked, running for his life. They were in the middle of nowhere. The forest was thick with undergrowth. The man tripped and screamed for help.

The smiling murderer inched closer and in his right hand, a long army knife gleamed under the sunlight.

"No, no. Please..." The man begged as he scooted away from his grim reaper.

"Did you stop when they ask you to stop?" The small statured killer looked down at his soon to be victim.

"I don't know what you are talking about. Please don't kill me. I have done nothing wrong," he pleaded again for his life.

"Then, you can start to repent in HELL." The killer swing down the blade into the man's chest. He pulled out the knife from the screaming victim and brought it down again.

Blood was gushing like a fountain all over the green bushes. The killer huffed a satisfied breath as he watched the man choked on his own blood. Lifeless. He laughed with such glee that he danced around the dead man before cutting and slashing his body.

**************

The phone was going off the hook in the New York Police Department. A number of decapitated murder cases were popping out of nowhere for the last two months. The news reported it as a serial killing spree. The public was getting restless and paranoid. False reports were coming in everyday like crazy.

Detective Taylor was on his last straw. His team has been working very hard to find the killer. The chief police was breathing down his neck because of the pressure from the city mayor and the whole city seemed to be in a panic state.

"Hey, Taylor. I found the same green material from the new vic. I ran it through the system and it was a material used to make aprons," the specky Sally informed.

"Have you find out the manufacturer for the cloth?"

"Get this, it was made for a small store three blocks from here."

"Let's go."

Detective Taylor was looking up at the store sign. Home Sweet Home. He entered the run down shop and met an old lady at the counter. He flashed his badge to the shopkeeper.

"I have a few questions to ask you. Do you sell aprons here?"

"Why, yes. It's on aisle three. We have a wide selection of aprons you can choose from."

"Do you have any green aprons?"

"I sold out those three months ago. As you can see, I don't have any customers coming in. The sale helped keep this store afloat."

"Can you give us the description of the buyer?"

"A petite lady. Or was it a man? Ermm I am quite forgetful these days."

"What was the buyer wearing at the time?"

"Well...He was wearing a big sweatshirt, a blue cap and sunglasses."

"Did he talk?"

"No. He just went in here, grabbed all the green aprons and paid in cash. I don't think it's a crime buying that much aprons, right?"

"No, ma'am. Here's my card. Call me if you remember anything about the man."

"I will," the shopkeeper watched as the grimfaced detective walked out of the store.

******************

The soothing sound was calming. The killer padded through the living room. A man in his thirties were struggling on the carpeted floor. His mouth was gagged with a piece of cloth and both his hands and feet were bind. He glared angrily at his capture. There was no fear in those dark brown eyes of his.


The killer wiped the blood at the corner of his mouth with his thumb. The living room was in chaos. Two glasses were toppled over on the wine-stained tablecloth. The sofa cushions bear the slashed marks. The handsome captive watched in silence as he saw the blade being inserted out from the casing.

"Ready?" the killer ran the knife on the smooth skin of his captive's face. A cold sweat ran down his neck.

"Anytime you are," replied his captive.

"Shut up! Shut up! Shut up! Stop looking at me like you are better than me you worthless piece of-"

"You need help. I am a doctor. I can help you."

"I SAID SHUT UP!" The killer screech as he slashed the doctor's throat and the ruby red liquid gushed out like a broken dam. His body started to shake as a loud laugh erupted from his small frame. He was satisfied.

The stereo was blasting loudly with rock music now. He made himself comfortable in the cozy sofa. His hands shook from the killing. The thrill after the slaughtering was like taking a huge dose of ecstacy. Your mind starts having this euphoric sensation. Your body feels oh so light; as if you could jump of the building and fly.

"Each and every worthless piece of you should be given to dogs and pigs. I bet those pigs will welcome the feast of their own kind. I told you time and time again. Do not lay a hand on those women. You scum!" He spat at the corpse and kicked the dead man hard until he heard a few cracks of broken ribs.

"There are still so many of you out there. I have to save the world from evil entities like you! I am their savior."

"You need to stop before it's too late." A voice jolted the killer to wake.

"You're not real. Go away!" He slashed the air around him.

"I am your conscience, the voices of each and every man that you killed. Please give yourself in."

"NO. My work is not done yet. I have to save them."

"Cassie."

*******************

A chubby small man entered the office of Detective Taylor. He glanced up from his computer screen and arched an eyebrow to the chief police. The portly man made himself comfortable in a cushoined seat near the wall.

"What's up, Taylor?" Greg asked casually. He was perspiring profusely from his over active sweat glands. His shirt was already sticking to his body like a second skin.

"Doing my job for once. What now, Greg?" He asked his bestfriend. Greg never come into his office if there is nothing big going on.

"The serial killer case you were working on. I'm assigning it to someone else."

"You are talking crap, Greg. Did you start drinking early this morning?"

"That's beside the point. The latest vic was a very respectable socialite. Media's been telling the city that we can't do our job. We as in YOU, Taylor. McGyver will take over from now."

"The hell he will," Taylor stood up.

"You can work on the Cat-Man case."

"Bullshit, Greg. I can crack this case. Let McGyver take that case."

"Taylor, I know you are having some tough times right now. But I can't allow that to jepordize the-"

"I am not some crybaby! Damn it!"

**********************

The constant throbbing in his face was bearable from what the killer would do to him next. Alex watched as he gazed into the psychopath's eyes and saw nothing. Not a life appeared in those dark brown eyes. He edged closer to the balcony of his apartment in hopes that some passerby would noticed him and call for help. A new day came. He was left alone but still bound.

Alex took a big gulp of breath to slow down the erratic beating of his heart. Working as an undercover has more negative impact on his life. His boss has been berating him to follow up on a suspect for the serial homocide. Nothing could be worst than finding out that your girlfriend was the person everyone's been looking for.

The suspect turned out to be another victim. And Alex was caught up between loyalty to the police or to his future wife. A decision need to be made. Fast. Before she came back from her morning jog.

***********************

"Dana, where's Alex?"

"I dunno. Haven't seen him since yesterday. I thought he was out for a follow-up."

"He was supposed to report back this morning."

"I tried calling his cell. No one picked up. Even Cassie didn't know where he went."

"Send Mulder in when he gets here."

"Sure thing."

***********************

*To be continued... 

 

 

 

Previous short story:
Babycharmer: Backfired?
Next short story:
Four Minutes To Save The World
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nightingale

i wish my life was a musical...i'm waiting for the people around me to break into a song anytime soon.oh yeah, and they can dance pretty well.
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