Tainted Innocence

Chapter XVIII

Get your tissues out. :(

Chapter XVIII

Matt took a look at his wristwatch. It was almost 10 p.m. Feeling quite exhausted he locked the shop's glass front door before making his way out the service entrance which he also carefully locked.

The sound of water dripping onto the pavement caught his attention. He turned around and pulled a face. It had begun to rain.

Cursing under his breath he stepped over the threshold and into the narrow alleyway that lay totally deserted.

A cold wind was blowing, whipping droplets of icy rain in his face as he made his way to his car. Matt shivered and quickened his pace, totally oblivious to the almost indistinguishable sound of another set of footsteps that followed his own.

He'd almost made it out of the alleyway as something or rather someone gripped a fistful of his hair, yanking hard so that he automatically threw his head back. At the same time the assailant pressed their left arm against his chest, holding him close to them in a bruising grip. Matt, momentarily taken aback by the sudden assault, felt his survival instinct kick in and he began to fight against his opponent. Alas, poor Matt never had a chance...

Suddenly he felt a searing pain erupt from his throat and as he inhaled in shock it felt like the air couldn't reach his lungs anymore. He gasped for breath again, but apart from a horribly wet flapping sound nothing happened. He couldn't get any oxygen into his system.

That was when his hands flew to his throat. Hot wetness engulfed them, and as Matt pulled his hands away, silently screaming for his vocal chords had been severed, all he could see was red. He stumbled forward, fell to the ground. Crawling on all fours while bleeding out like a slaughtered animal, leaving behind a trail of vibrant red that glistened in the light of a single street lamp, he tried to look for help. To no avail...

His vision began to fade, blackness crept out of the corners of his eyes, getting darker with each passing second as he slowly suffocated.

Hands and knees gave out under him and his body sprawled out on the pavement. Lifelessly, with once bright eyes wide open and a slit throat.

*

James Worthington Gordon, better known as Jim Gordon, shook his head in disillusionment as he looked at the body.

"Poor lad must have crawled up to here before he kicked the bucket. Was a tough bastard to come that far with such an injury. Whoever slit his throat must have put one hell of pressure onto that knife of theirs. They nearly decapitated the boy.", he heard his partner, Harvey Bullock, say.

Jim got down next to the boy whose soulless eyes stared into nothingness.

He estimated that the victim hadn't been much older than twenty when he met his demise. His clothes were new, brand-name clothing. No street urchin, obviously.

Looking to his right, he saw a black leather wallet lying next to the boy's right knee.

Jim picked it up and inspected its content.

There was no money left, his ID, however, was still there.

"Matt Jenkins.", he voiced aloud.

Bullocks came over to glance at the small picture of the victim.

"Yeah, that's definitely kiddo over there.", he sighed.

Jim nodded and got back to examining the body and its belongings. He found a pair of in-ear headphones in a pocket of his hoodie, but no phone or any other device he could have used his headphones with.