Insanity

Journals

I'm not done learning about the forensic process yet so just take the events of this chapter very lightly. Think of it as like CSI or something because I'm pretty sure you can't touch evidence like that. Oh well.

...

Prologue Part 1

-eep beep, beep beep, beep beep. The sound of my alarm woke me from my deep slumber. I turned over and read the alarm clock- 6:30 a.m. Another morning, another case I thought as I got out of bed. This should be interesting. I hurriedly got ready and drove to the first suspect's house.

"Good to see you this early in the morning, Detective Parham," jokingly said my partner, Elijah Johnson.

"You're lucky I came today. I was thinking about sleeping in, but I have a job to do, Detective Johnson," I replied.

Today, we started the investigation of a string of serial murders committed by a suspect we call "The Silent Killer". All of the victims were similar-- they were all African American males in their mid-twenties. The victims were all found in trashcans with multiple stab wounds. But the thing that tied them together most was the fact that they were all missing their lips. The Whisper Killer must have medical training since the lacerations on the lips aren't jagged.

We followed up on a clue the witness of the last case gave us-- the person we were looking for has a modified, teal Ford Gran Torino. After getting a lead from the computer science department of our forensic team, we tracked the car down to this address. However, it seems that no one lives here anymore. The car is covered up with a tarp in the backyard. The suspect probably abandoned it after the last case.

We'd gotten a warrant to search the property, but we didn't need it now because it had been abandoned. I turned the knob on the door to see if it was locked. The door opened with a squeak.

The first thing that hit us was the horrid smell of the house. There was food laying on the ground like whoever was here left in a hurry. Elijah and I slowly walked inside, staying vigilant in case there was still someone here. The whole house was in shambles. The table laid on the floor broken and there were shattered glasses riddling the kitchen. Elijah tapped me on the shoulder and told me he was going to check outside. Soon, I'm all alone in this jumbled house.

I stalked down the empty hallway. There were spots on the wall where the wallpaper was missing. There must have been pictures attached to the walls, I thought. I decided to go into the first room I saw. The door was hanging off its hinges, as if it had been kicked down. There was nothing in the room except for a dresser with no drawers. The room was completely deserted. Whoever lived here had packed everything up and left without a trace--or so they thought. A mysterious book was laying on the floor in the middle of the room.

I picked up the somewhat ragged book with my gloved hands. It had the words "Journal #13" carefully written on it. I opened the journal and started reading, hoping that it just may contain a telltale sign that this is the Silent Killer.

December 7, 19XX
He's at it again. I don't know if I can take it anymore. He's resorted to violence, yelling at me with filthy words for the sole purpose of leaving me. But I won't let him. He isn't leaving here until I let him go. Can't he see that I love him the most? Why does he have to make this difficult? Maybe he was drunk when he started it. Yeah, I think that's it. Because if he wasn't, the only way he's leaving is in a garbage bag. I need him. He needs us.

-Signed, Jacob Perez

Jacob Perez? I feel like I've heard that name before. This journal is very odd. The year at the top of the page is incoherent. There's no telling when this was written, but it doesn't look too old. The entry looks as if it was written in two different handwriting styles. One is elegant while the other used jagged characters that are barely recognizable. What does that even mean? I continued to flip through the journal in hopes of finding something worthwhile.

"Wait a minute," I said to myself.

I quickly flipped back to the page I thought I saw the word "mistake" written on.

March 23, 19XX
I made a mistake. CXXXX he drove me to it. He made me do it. He started yelling at me, threatening to call to cops. He looked broken as he was trying to get away from me. i don't know what even happened but when I came back to my senses, I saw that he was lying on the ground bleeding. There was a bloody knife beside me. I don't even remember...I don't get it. He treated me like a Prince, yet he reprimanded me at every given turn. It's his fault. It's his fault. He drove me to it. He drove me to it. I'll never forgive him. I will never let anyone else hurt me. I. Will. Protect. j

The entry suddenly cut off. The handwriting for this entry is a lot more frantic. The elegant handwriting from before has turned into shaky lines. However, it is still very evident there are still two different writing styles. The name of "him" is indecipherable. The ink on the page is smudged because of wet spots on the pages. It seems the suspect, Jacob Perez, was crying while writing this page.

"Elijah!" I yelled.

"Yes?" He asked, poking his head inside the room.

"Pass me an evidence bag. I think I found something."

It's the start of something new :D) Chapter 2 should be out in the next 2 weeks. Feel free to blow up my messages if I don't deliver.

-Kam