37. KILLER ON THE LOOSE

Brum’s P.O.V

Rose is dead,

Rose is dead,

Rose is dead.

I could hear myself breathing loudly. I ran my hands rough through my hair and nearly ripped each strand from it’s root. I was pacing back and forth, the sound of distant voices and a thousand incoherent thoughts echoing through my head.

How was it possible? I had left her….she had just been laying there.

A distant call resonated through my mind but like everything else, it fell into the cacophony of noise and drifted off to an incoherent noise.

I'd left her lying there, on the bed. I blinked and the image of her wrapped in covers came to me but as I blinked again the horror I was in confronted me. There was blood everywhere. The walls were splattered with it like a macabre piece of amateur art. The flooring was dotted with it, a clear sign of Rose fighting back. Her claw marks were accompanied with splatters of red, as if the person had been clawing or cutting into her as they dragged her.

My mind had depicted an image of it’