TerrorKitty
◢ Kitty ◤
"A dying light."
The detective muttered, noting the light bulb that continued to flicker from the single lamp in the corner, struggling to illuminate the room. He'd just love to fix it but being the first on the scene it would be bad form to change anything about the bloody bedroom before the rest of the investigation unit arrived. So he opted for a small but powerful handheld flight light. One of the few tools on his person at all times, though this trusty device seemed to fail him as well.
It too flickered wildly. "Useless piece of...Fuck." He was jiggling the object but eventually, it blacked out entirely. He was left again with only the eerie flashes of that amber light which seemed to behave more like a candle than a lamp. It would have to do for now. There was some ambient light from the hallway which helped a bit.
With a sigh, the detective continued his inspection of the room slowly as his eyes adjusted. There was more blood than he expected "The hell went on in here?" He questioned aloud. He looked over the bed which was soaked in the dark red substance and seemed to show signs of a struggle, but his focus on it was interupted when he heard a cough from the other side of it and nearly causing him to jump out of his skin. "Jesus fucking christ, si-" The detective was cut off by a motion from a man, who seemed to be fairly young raising their blood-covered finger to their lips.
"I know, we're dying. Please, let her sleep in peace." He whispered before coughing lightly in what seemed to be a strained effort to hold it in. The guy had a deep gash in his side, it seems he was the source of the room's crimson paint. In his arms was what seemed like a child, maybe one or two years old, their breathing was shallow and almost painful to hear.
"What the hell happened?" The detective asked with eyes as wide as saucers. It was unknown if that was because of the grizzly sight or just him trying his best to see the figures before him in the shadow of that cursed lamp. However, the man simply shook his head weakly and held the child closer to his chest.
"Her name is Light. She was our light...She is. My light..She.." He stopped, crying silent tears, fighting back choked sobs in a desperate effort to let his child go peacefully, but the detective knew all too well the weight of the situation. Had she woken up, it would be too much to see the light drain from her eyes.
The bulb then finally gave out and the detective took it as a cue to leave the room and let the two have their peace. He had seen a lot in his time as an investigator. He'd seen a lot of people die, faces would come and go, but he never forgot their names.
Not too long after, the first arrival from the rest of the team showed up, she was young and inexperienced, this was only her second case and she was nervous just entering the house. She soon found the detective, retracing the bloodied footprints that lead back outside. Though the owner of the said trail was long gone. "Are you sure you should be smoking in here?" She asked her superior who was sitting on a box outside the door where the prints originated. The young officer quickly peered into the room but it was too dark to see anything, but there was soft wheezing from two ever diminishing breaths. "Is someone alive in there we shou-" She was cut off by the detective raising a finger to his lips. "What's going on?"
The detective shook his head slowly as he breathed out the smoke from his cigarette. There was a moment of silence, one that was too quiet. The breathing from the darkened room was only just barely audible now. "Let them be." He hushed, offering a seat beside him on the box. Eventually, he answered the question in a whisper.
"A dying Light."
The detective muttered, noting the light bulb that continued to flicker from the single lamp in the corner, struggling to illuminate the room. He'd just love to fix it but being the first on the scene it would be bad form to change anything about the bloody bedroom before the rest of the investigation unit arrived. So he opted for a small but powerful handheld flight light. One of the few tools on his person at all times, though this trusty device seemed to fail him as well.
It too flickered wildly. "Useless piece of...Fuck." He was jiggling the object but eventually, it blacked out entirely. He was left again with only the eerie flashes of that amber light which seemed to behave more like a candle than a lamp. It would have to do for now. There was some ambient light from the hallway which helped a bit.
With a sigh, the detective continued his inspection of the room slowly as his eyes adjusted. There was more blood than he expected "The hell went on in here?" He questioned aloud. He looked over the bed which was soaked in the dark red substance and seemed to show signs of a struggle, but his focus on it was interupted when he heard a cough from the other side of it and nearly causing him to jump out of his skin. "Jesus fucking christ, si-" The detective was cut off by a motion from a man, who seemed to be fairly young raising their blood-covered finger to their lips.
"I know, we're dying. Please, let her sleep in peace." He whispered before coughing lightly in what seemed to be a strained effort to hold it in. The guy had a deep gash in his side, it seems he was the source of the room's crimson paint. In his arms was what seemed like a child, maybe one or two years old, their breathing was shallow and almost painful to hear.
"What the hell happened?" The detective asked with eyes as wide as saucers. It was unknown if that was because of the grizzly sight or just him trying his best to see the figures before him in the shadow of that cursed lamp. However, the man simply shook his head weakly and held the child closer to his chest.
"Her name is Light. She was our light...She is. My light..She.." He stopped, crying silent tears, fighting back choked sobs in a desperate effort to let his child go peacefully, but the detective knew all too well the weight of the situation. Had she woken up, it would be too much to see the light drain from her eyes.
The bulb then finally gave out and the detective took it as a cue to leave the room and let the two have their peace. He had seen a lot in his time as an investigator. He'd seen a lot of people die, faces would come and go, but he never forgot their names.
Not too long after, the first arrival from the rest of the team showed up, she was young and inexperienced, this was only her second case and she was nervous just entering the house. She soon found the detective, retracing the bloodied footprints that lead back outside. Though the owner of the said trail was long gone. "Are you sure you should be smoking in here?" She asked her superior who was sitting on a box outside the door where the prints originated. The young officer quickly peered into the room but it was too dark to see anything, but there was soft wheezing from two ever diminishing breaths. "Is someone alive in there we shou-" She was cut off by the detective raising a finger to his lips. "What's going on?"
The detective shook his head slowly as he breathed out the smoke from his cigarette. There was a moment of silence, one that was too quiet. The breathing from the darkened room was only just barely audible now. "Let them be." He hushed, offering a seat beside him on the box. Eventually, he answered the question in a whisper.
"A dying Light."
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