Damien's House

I've stood in the homes of many dead men before. I've stood over their corpses and looked through their drawers for clues and substances. Hell, I've sat on chairs and beds while trying to get my head wrapped around the crime without really feeling anything by the fact of being in a dead person's room. But I'll tell you now, standing in Damien's house last night gave me goosebumps that I never got when I was a working cop.

I stood in his main room for ten minutes, looking around at the dirty, shabby conditions that it had fallen into and wondered if it had been like that when it had had an occupant as well. There was dust all over the place, chair knocked over (most likely from that last scuffle), dishes and plates left untouched and uncleaned in the sink. A mouse scurried along the floor, looking for food, at one point crossing right over my boot.

I closed my eyes for a moment, though why I was doing that I wasn't entirely sure of even then.

Where are you, Damien? I thought. Are you really dead? Or are you still out there somewhere, being torn apart by your own subconscious? Do you feel me in your house right now? Am I supposed to feel you here?

Of course, I get no answer. Not like I was expecting one.

Once I was done with that, I got to work. I checked every square inch of that living room before I finally made my way to the bedroom. Looked basically like it should have, just as dirty, and the bed having not been slept in for a very long time. I poked through drawers, cupboards, closet, under the bed, even checked a couple of loose floorboards.

Nothing. No drawings. No bone. Nothing. The place had been cleaned out.

Damn, the thought ran through my mind. I knew it'd be cleaned out, but I thought there would be something of value. Nothing, though.

Guess the red building's the place to go-

It happened so fast I barely caught it, but even slight movement is movement. My eyes caught it out of the corner; a tuff of black, peering in through the window before leaving in the blink of an eye. Just as fast I was out the door, gun drawn, looking around.

“Come ooon! Show yourself!” I shouted. “I know you're out here, fuckface! COME ON!”

The woods in the middle of the night; my worst nightmare. But someone was out there, for sure, and I wasn't about to let them go, but out here there was nothing, not even wind to blow the trees around. So there I was, standing in the woods with gun drawn, shouting for a shadow that was not there.

But it was there. I'm damn sure of that. Something is sure as fuck following me out here.

I'm going to the red building. It's the only place I can think of to go.

I'll post again after I get back.