(no subject)
Deep woke up with his face stuck to the floor. Even before he had to peel his blood-oozing cheek off from the ground, he knew he would need stitches. The room was still as cold as it had always been, which may or may not have been good for the bleeding.
He hesitantly placed a hand on his chest and felt the ragged hole in his shirt, and the way the cotton was stiff and clinging to his skin. As soon as his finger came into contact with the puncture, he flinched and jerked his hand away. The bullet was probably in his sternum.
With a sigh exiting through his nostrils, Deep forced himself up to his feet and placed his hand gingerly over the side of his face. The cut went from his mouth to his ear and it was already starting to leak blood again. It made him want to scream but it such a thing would've been more detrimental than cathartic.
As he passed a wary glance over the room, he sighed again and thought to himself, Is that it? He checked the bathroom to see if anything changed: nothing. The note was still taped up to the mirror. He checked Peyton's room: nothing. Kitchen, fridge: nothing, aside from a missing carton of milk. He checked Lionel's room: nothing.
He even checked the mostly-empty journal again: nothing. The ring was still taped to the back. Safekeeping. Deep slid it into the inner pocket of his coat for the same reason. Giving the room one last look, he turned to leave the apartment but noticed a red smudge on the wall behind the wide-open door. Something was behind it.
Fingers shaking just a little, he grasped the edge of the door and turned it. He jumped to find a dead crow hanging there, wings nailed in place to make it seem as though it had been crucified. It had been spray painted red, the color stretching out even beyond the dead bird's actual surface area. Deep furrowed his brows involuntarily, unsure of what it meant.
There was nothing to move it with. He had to use his hands. Disgusted, he impatiently plucked the crow down using his thumbs and forefingers, remnants of feather and skin still stuck to the two nails. He craned his neck to look behind the avian, hoping for some kind of hint, but the crow was just a crow.
Trying hard not to wrinkle his nose and further agitate the cut on his cheek, he dumped the carcass onto the floor to study the morbid red stencil on the wall. Even still, the crow was just a crow. Deep sighed and leaned in, tilting his head up to inspect the nails. Rings.
His hands involuntarily shot themselves up to take them, and when he had them both he brought them close to his face to stare, disbelievingly, at what he saw. They were Claddagh rings. Emerald and citrine. Benjamin and William.
The first thing he did was panic and ask himself questions. How long had the crow been nailed there? Was it there yesterday? Not that he noticed. It could have been there all this time. It's possible; the temperature in the apartment was freezing enough for some kind of preservation. He took a moment to feel the paint even though its dryness didn't imply anything.
As an unprofessional investigator, he didn't know what else he could ask without having to conjecture. Was the bird there before or after Lionel disappeared? Was Lionel the one who put it up there? Did Lionel get rid of Peyton and Benjamin? Wait--that didn't make any sense. Lionel disappeared before Benjamin did. The crow had to have been there between Benjamin's disappearance and Deep's current presence.
Was Lionel malicious and crafty enough to make it seem as though he disappeared, took Benjamin, and then came back to put the message in? It didn't seem likely. Lionel was much more direct than that. Deep was trembling so much he nearly dropped the rings onto the floor. He had to stop panicking but another wave of worry flooded into his mind.
Perhaps the problem was that he was thinking of who it was from as opposed to who it was for. Deep held in a breath as he remembered the night his house came under attack. A dead crow had been left on his chest while he was half-asleep. A crow had been left here too. Again, his mind asked: Would Lionel have done it? A heavy sense of doubt pushed it away. It wasn't possible.
Suddenly coming to remember something, Deep pocketed the rings and skittered out to kick down the door of the next apartment over.
it was empty.
He hesitantly placed a hand on his chest and felt the ragged hole in his shirt, and the way the cotton was stiff and clinging to his skin. As soon as his finger came into contact with the puncture, he flinched and jerked his hand away. The bullet was probably in his sternum.
With a sigh exiting through his nostrils, Deep forced himself up to his feet and placed his hand gingerly over the side of his face. The cut went from his mouth to his ear and it was already starting to leak blood again. It made him want to scream but it such a thing would've been more detrimental than cathartic.
As he passed a wary glance over the room, he sighed again and thought to himself, Is that it? He checked the bathroom to see if anything changed: nothing. The note was still taped up to the mirror. He checked Peyton's room: nothing. Kitchen, fridge: nothing, aside from a missing carton of milk. He checked Lionel's room: nothing.
He even checked the mostly-empty journal again: nothing. The ring was still taped to the back. Safekeeping. Deep slid it into the inner pocket of his coat for the same reason. Giving the room one last look, he turned to leave the apartment but noticed a red smudge on the wall behind the wide-open door. Something was behind it.
Fingers shaking just a little, he grasped the edge of the door and turned it. He jumped to find a dead crow hanging there, wings nailed in place to make it seem as though it had been crucified. It had been spray painted red, the color stretching out even beyond the dead bird's actual surface area. Deep furrowed his brows involuntarily, unsure of what it meant.
There was nothing to move it with. He had to use his hands. Disgusted, he impatiently plucked the crow down using his thumbs and forefingers, remnants of feather and skin still stuck to the two nails. He craned his neck to look behind the avian, hoping for some kind of hint, but the crow was just a crow.
Trying hard not to wrinkle his nose and further agitate the cut on his cheek, he dumped the carcass onto the floor to study the morbid red stencil on the wall. Even still, the crow was just a crow. Deep sighed and leaned in, tilting his head up to inspect the nails. Rings.
His hands involuntarily shot themselves up to take them, and when he had them both he brought them close to his face to stare, disbelievingly, at what he saw. They were Claddagh rings. Emerald and citrine. Benjamin and William.
The first thing he did was panic and ask himself questions. How long had the crow been nailed there? Was it there yesterday? Not that he noticed. It could have been there all this time. It's possible; the temperature in the apartment was freezing enough for some kind of preservation. He took a moment to feel the paint even though its dryness didn't imply anything.
As an unprofessional investigator, he didn't know what else he could ask without having to conjecture. Was the bird there before or after Lionel disappeared? Was Lionel the one who put it up there? Did Lionel get rid of Peyton and Benjamin? Wait--that didn't make any sense. Lionel disappeared before Benjamin did. The crow had to have been there between Benjamin's disappearance and Deep's current presence.
Was Lionel malicious and crafty enough to make it seem as though he disappeared, took Benjamin, and then came back to put the message in? It didn't seem likely. Lionel was much more direct than that. Deep was trembling so much he nearly dropped the rings onto the floor. He had to stop panicking but another wave of worry flooded into his mind.
Perhaps the problem was that he was thinking of who it was from as opposed to who it was for. Deep held in a breath as he remembered the night his house came under attack. A dead crow had been left on his chest while he was half-asleep. A crow had been left here too. Again, his mind asked: Would Lionel have done it? A heavy sense of doubt pushed it away. It wasn't possible.
Suddenly coming to remember something, Deep pocketed the rings and skittered out to kick down the door of the next apartment over.
it was empty.