Hell Before The Verse

                                    

                                              
Blood. Blood everywhere. Looked like someone devoured a bomb in a run down motel room. Police knocked down the door, sending it flying across the room. The chief, ahead of the others, stopped dead in his track when light shined in from the army of flashlights. He saw the mess left behind for them to clean up. For them to avenge. A senior officer seized the girl in the corner, and carried her to an ambulance waiting outside. Her eyes wide with shock, writhing in fear. Practically a rag doll in the swat members arms. The chief left the room and began throwing up on the sidewalk. With everything else he had been through, one would think that this couldn't phase him. Oddly enough, none of that was what had been crossing his mind. A few questions kept playing over and over.
                          
(What happened here? Why is this girl alive? Who in the world could have done something like this?) 
                          
She was left in a plain room. One table, two chairs, and a big glass mirror. The shock was finally wearing off, she realized she was in the interrogation room. They needed answers she couldn't give them, that they wouldn't believe. Answers she didn't even believe. Maybe they just wanted to see her I.D. and send her home. That's what she hoped for. Maybe if she was a little more religious, she would pray for it to be that simple. 

                          
She heard a small screech. The door to her room opening slowly. Whoever was coming in didn't want to be in there anymore than she did. It was police officer who didn't have a uniform. The man who was throwing up as she was being rushed out of the motel. He must be someone important she felt. He had to be, no uniform, coming to her with questions. If so, then why couldn't he handle being there. What was so bad to turn his stomach? She couldn't remember anything. For that matter, she couldn't remember much of anything. The chief set some papers on the table, laid his blazer over the back of the chair, and sat down. For a moment he avoided her eyes, then hesitantly opened the document. Pictures upon pictures had been enclosed inside. He threw them in front of the girl, spread out across the table. Instantly, the memories came back in flashes. These were crime seen photos. The first one showed blood spattered wall. Her breath stopped. Second one was an image of the windows busted. A vase cut cleanly in half on the bloody table under the window. The last one she could stand to dare looking at, was her ex. She burst into tears, rocking back and forth. The officer took the pictures back, and didn't even consider showing her the others. He waited for a moment giving her time to breath. 
                          
"Ma'am, I'm going to have to ask you who did this". She told him of a boy she met. Pale skin, tall, scars everywhere, eyes that looked like the moon. Dark hair that nearly covered his face, and.... She stopped and looked at the photo on top. The one of her old boyfriend. This caught the officers attention, he did the same and focused on the crime seen evidence. Turning his head when he saw the feather laying in the young mans opened chest. Where did that come from?