Rokker Is The Devil

Prologue

"There was so much shit going on in that one apartment that night, you wouldn't even realize your hands were gone until two days after the party. Guys were getting drunk, the girls were on the dance floor, and the Whores were fucking the Jocks in the kitchen, skirts lifted and boxers down. The music was loud enough that it was like you had front-row seats to a concert. Cigarette smoke and the smell of liquor hung in the air, and though we all knew it, we couldn't get the alcohol out of our system even if we wanted to. We were 17 for fucks sake."

Sandy took in another drag of her cigarette before flicking it and throwing it to the ground, stubbing it with the tip of her heeled boots. The officer interrogating her only stared at the butt of the cigarette before averting his gaze back to the girl, who only crossed her arms and kissed her teeth. The red and blue lights of the three squad cars flashed on their faces, colouring their skin in blue and red. The officer sighed, putting his black pen back in the front pocket of his blue blazer, right next to his name tag, which read Jason D. The notepad covered in notes was shoved in his pants pocket, along with the address written on the small paper he was fiddling with on the ride to the motel.

Sandy kicked the butt of the cigarette, making it hit the side of the tyre on the first squad car. The officer's gaze followed the cigarette, and he pinched the bridge of his nose as Sandy continued to speak. She threw her arms in the air and sighed, placing one hand on her hip and the other to drop down. She popped her gum, inspected her nails, and told the officer what had happened.

"She was always nosy, ya know? So, she had a couple too many. A few shots of vodka here and there, one or two rounds of tequila, and at least seven cans of beer. But then again, who hadn't? Like I said, everyone was drunk that night. It wouldn't surprise me if all that alcohol from seven years ago were still in her system. She even smoked a few cigs. So what, it was a party, and everyone was bound to get banged at least once. I mean, you can't be a Downer. Live a little, ya know?"

She spat out her gum onto her hand, rolling it over her fingers before placing it on the officer's blazer. The cop stared down at the mess now stuck on his uniform before looking back up at the girl, exhausted. He already had one hell of a day, fighting through training and eventually, nearly escaping death. Twice today. But the girl wouldn't care. All she would care about was the small package of cocaine in her hot pink jacket pocket. Once the cop left, she would drown herself and let the world slip away.

That's the problem with society. You're either innocent or thirsty for trouble. There was no in-between. There was no telling others for who they were because they had separate minds that were lost fighting other troubles. People these days are too focused on what happens to them instead of what happens around them. And the girl couldn't care less that the other girl was murdered.

It was the fourth homicide of the week, in the same state, in the same town, at the same place. Jason had stumbled upon the dilapidated cabin deep in the woods, drawn by an unsettling curiosity. Hunters from around the area reported its rundown state, and the owner of the property died just last week from natural causes. Upon a routine checkup, he pushed the creaking door open only to have a foul stench assaulting him, mingling with the earthy aroma of damp wood. It was there in the dim light where the decayed body of a woman, her features barely recognizable, ravaged by time and neglect caught him by surprise. Surrounding her were grotesque twine dolls, each one meticulously crafted and arranged in a sinister circle. Scrawled on the walls were strange symbols; only the work of a freak.

The girl kicked off her boots and picked them up, the gold embroidered footwear hanging by her fingers. The officer looked down, inspecting Sandy's long, hot pink acrylic nails. The officer only wanted a nice, quick interrogation from Sandy, but alas, that was not what he got. Instead, two more cars showed up, investigating the scene. And Sandy had already been through two more interrogations, and though Jason felt bad about the time he was taking away from the girl, the investigation needed to continue.