Looks like there’s been another murder, the third one this week; the victims were children, both of them not more than ten years old. And just like the previous deaths that has been going on for the last two months, this boy and girl experienced no ordinary death.
Their throats were slashed open, and so were their stomachs. Their intestines were pulled out and shoved into their exposed bloody throats, and then it was sewed shut. Their feet and hands were also sawed off and were placed inside the stomach, where it was sewed shut as well.
The police officers that walked in after receiving a call from the neighbor threw up almost immediately. The stench was of blood and vomit by the time I got to the crime scene. I almost threw up myself. It was disgusting.
My name is Corwin Smith but people here call me Detective Smith. For months now we’ve been trying to catch this psychotic murderer and bring him to justice for murdering countless of innocent young children.
My partner made an obvious observation that the murderer always killed a boy and a girl; never a girl and girl, or boy and boy. The children were always a girl and a boy, and were siblings. Another one is that they were murdered the same way; stuffed and sewn shut.
“This is disgusting,” my partner bent down to further examine the bodies. “Whoa,” he said as he reached in the blonde boy’s open mouth and pulled out a slimy, bloody note.
More police officers threw up, except for one. The tall, well-built man just stood there and looked at the dead bodies as if he were looking at raw pork at the market. Then he quietly walked out.
Hmmm… I wonder…
“The note says, ‘whY wOn’t yoU BeLiEvE Da notes? Ira, She Must DIe LatE’” his brow furrowed. “We DO believe the notes! And most of the time they don’t even make sense! Can this dude even write properly? And who the heck is Ira?”
“I’m just as confused as you are,” I murmured. “But whoever this Ira is, we must find her. We need to protect her. We can stop another death tonight.”
Then I turned to my partner, “I need you to search the city and surrounding areas for an Ira with a brother that’s ten years old and below. That should narrow it down.”
My red-haired partner nodded and briskly walked out to do exactly what I told him to, “I’ll report back what I find as soon as possible,” he said on his way out. “We’ll put the kids under our protection.”
I nodded, “And I’ll take care of the note.”
We all went back to our homes and I slumped down on my chair, rubbing my aching temples. Then I opened my drawer and took out
And a sewing kit.
Then I took the note, circled all the capital letters and left it on my table, amused at how stupid the police are.
I walked to the window and looked out at the laughing children playing outside, the note’s secret message lingering in my mind.
YOU BLEED, I SMILE.