37 Steak and Stew (1/2)

[Warning: Gruesome description/imagery]

”You are staying here,” he said firmly, but I had already gotten out of the car.

”You can't show me anything worse than I have already seen.” I shrugged. He sighed and silently contemplated for a moment. In the face of my stubbornness, there was not much he could do.

”If we are getting you to a psychiatrist, I can afford some more trauma to your senses.” His words made me smile. Determined to prove him wrong, I followed him silently and entered the building.

A rush of policemen had cornered a harmless looking older lady who scrunched her face in panic as the words were fired at her.

”What did he tell you?” She couldn't answer.

”He said…” the woman stopped, her face looked pained as she searched for the words. Then she said a string of sentences which caught my attention. She spoke in Korean.

”Should I help them translate? Do they have a translator on board?” I asked Sebastian as we walked up the stairs.

”Do you know the language?” I nodded.

”I will ask if they need help when we come down. We need to see the crime scene first,” he told me. ”You brought your notepad and pen, right? I need you to take notes.” I nodded.

We entered the house to the smell of stale food.

Two officers came out, their faces ashen as the neared us.

”Sebastian Butler?” one of them asked, hoping he was right.

”Yes, that is me.” The guy nodded and ushered us in.

”Be prepared for the worst,” the other warned us.

The scene was a massacre. The walls of the hallway had splatters of blood all over it, the floor was drenched in blood. There was a little space on the sides for us to walk around, but the scene was gruesome. However, I didn't know that I had not seen anything yet.

There were blood trails leading to another room.

”What do you think happened here?” Sebastian asked, his hands inside his pocket. He seemed at ease with the scene. Even I was influenced by him. It was as if I felt nothing towards these people, so I didn't need to panic to make the killer die. Everything was analytical. Maybe it would change when I saw the body.

”These blood spatters look like the weapon was used to strike multiple times,” I glanced around the walls, the blood trail led all over the ceiling as well. ”There was a definite withdrawing motion and it was very passionately done. The splatters go up until the ceiling. So the blood from the weapon flew up at the motion.” The explanation was more for my benefit than anything.

”What do you think the weapon was?” he asked. I shook my head, bewildered as to how I would figure that out.