FLOWERS

She had one of the longest days of her life, she just wanted to go home and rest. Her place of work could be draining, both emotionally and physically. Today had been painful to say the least, she had followed the news about this case for quite a while. It was against protocol, but the case had a special place in her heart. The victim was still beautiful even in death, her face was peaceful, you couldn’t tell the hardship she had been through. She had a bouquet of flowers in her hand, red roses.

In the parking lot, she sat and cried. She heaved, wailed, and broke all the barriers that she had put up at the laboratory. ‘Why? Why did it have to end up like this?’ She composed herself and walked towards her apartment, the lights were out. Fingers crossed she hoped he would not be around. A quick supplication to the universe and every deity slipped from her lips.

The door was locked, she felt relieved. She picked out her keys and turned the lock. There were petals strewn all over the floor leading to the bathroom. Sweet smelling candles had been littered around the living room, lavender, her favorite scent. As if on cue, music started playing on the speakers that dotted her well kept space.

”Sweet angel, I look at you and feel at home. Sweet angel come be my peace. Darling let me love you when the lights are low.”

Her hairs stood on ends, her hands became clammy with sweat, and her bag fell onto the floor. He was here as much as she expected and dreaded to see him. ‘I have been waiting for you, my love. Come to me.’ His voice was like melted butter smooth and inviting, she walked towards him as he emerged from the shadows of the glowing candles.

Wrapped in his arms, she felt a million emotions run through her: lust, love, and trepidation. She knew why he was there, and her blood ran cold. But still she let herself fall to the mercy of his whims till she fell asleep next to him, rested and content.

The morning rays seeping into the room had her feeling ecstatic to start the day. She stretched her hand and the sheets where he had lain were cool; he was gone. Her moods took a tumble for the worst, and she dragged herself to get ready, work was calling.

He had prepared breakfast, her favorite snacks and drinks had been laid out on the table. This man, her man, had written a poem too, the little things she cherished in his absence. A vase filled with flowers she liked was on the table. Her favorite red roses. Maybe the day wouldn’t be as awful as she pictured it.

‘Female deceased, ligature marks on her neck suspected strangulation, no signs of sexual assault. Initial evidence suggests that the case is similar MO to the previous cases reported. The victim was abducted and found in the same locality as previous cases. She was holding a bouquet of flowers, red roses.’