Blood splattered against the concrete, the crimson stood out against the pale ground like a great red blotch of paint against an unused canvas. It was a stain that marred what would have been otherwise just a floor.

Just looking at it made her sick to the stomach.

It was hers.

But he just laughed cynically; the sight of the blood only riled him more. The bloody knife gave a tainted glare as the dim lights danced upon the metal of the blade. The maniacal gleam in his eyes never left, it grew more and more.

The body sprawled against the wall never moved, even more blood running down the walls like a morbid waterfall…

He laughed. "Me? Why Miss Detective, you have no proof." He lightly kicked the corpse with the side of his shoe. "After all, all I see here are just two bodies…" He looked up, his eyes aflame.

The body slumped to the ground.

He took a step toward her. And another. And with each step he took, she took a step back. The cold bare wall met her back painfully. He smirked.

"Dead men tell no tales."