The Art Behind a Murder

Chapter Four - The Victim

I gasped, and clutched my stomach when I saw the grotesque body that was sprawled out in front of me. The gentleman still held onto me, and he probably felt me shiver.

The organs were scattered across the ground, and she was horrifically mangled. Its entire chest was sliced open, and completely emptied of its contents. The 'face' was brutally cut up, and I could almost taste the repulsive smell. The street lamp flickered, occasionally plunging us in the darkness with the corpse.

"Oh my lord... What happened to her?" I managed to define her as a female by the blood stained bonnet placed upon the corpse's disfigured head. My vision went blurry, and my stomach lurched.

The gentleman's voice was quite and calm.

"I don't know... But we've got to leave. Now."

I staggered backwards, splashing rainwater up my legs. I looked closely, and saw that the water wasn't transparent - it was thick and red. I yelped, and tensed up.

He took my arm and we ran towards my house. When we were about ten minutes away, the rain started to pour from the sky - as if God himself were crying from the murder of the woman. My hair fell out of its bun, and it curled around my face in lots of wet ringlets.

My dress and coat were soaked - even my undergarments were drenched. Eventually my legs buckled, and I was sent flying into the ground. I rolled over and realised that I had hit my head on the way down. With blurry vision, I coughed heavily and gripped hold of my head. My loud coughs caught the attention of two people on the other side of the street, and they began to rush over to me.

The last thing I remember was the young gentleman typically fleeing from the scene, and a woman holding onto me as I slipped into unconsciousness.