Melanie Small: This
wasn’t by coincidence.
This wasn’t by
coincidence. Someone had led Elaina, this poor, fragile, girl here. She lies still,
in a bed of poppies in the middle of nowhere… drenched in her own blood. It’s a
shame really, such a pretty girl. Well, she was anyway. As a forensic
investigator, I’m pretty used to all the blood and gore and honestly I don’t
mind it. And I have to say that this murder wasn’t just any murder; it was a
beautiful one. Her hair, so carefully shaved off, while the flesh covering her
precious skull has been carved into a broken heart. The blood, which only hours
ago trickled down her forehead, is now dry and has coated her dull face with a
deep, rich velvet colour. The overpowering sweet scent of her rubicund nectar engulfs me as I lean towards the savaged girl.
Her “innocent” body, which has been torn from her clothes, is full of deep,
clean-cut wounds. What looks like love bites are scattered all over her torso
and thighs. I tell the rest of the team that behind this murder…is love. Besides,
love bites are beautiful because they’re the only type of bruise, which is a
result of love rather than harm. Her body is the frame and her skin is the
canvas. Her lifeless skin is now splattered with colours: amber, black, bottle
green, burgundy, caramel and my favourite of colours, magenta. A dagger has
been planted into her broken heart. Elaina’s artist is clever, leaving no trace
of DNA, evidence or witnesses. He knew what he was doing. This wasn’t by
coincidence. A gust of wind rustles my lab coat and a photo flies out. Chris, a
member of the forensic team, picks up the photo hidden in my inner-pocket.
“Elaina, you broke my
heart first. So I broke yours in return.”
This definitely wasn’t
by coincidence.
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