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Crime Scene

  You heard camera shutters flash as you drew your eyes away from the body on the wall. Every sound was distant, including the people being ushered out of the building to get comfort. You quickly looked down to your notepad and started writing everything you could take in down. You observed the way the blood dried on the wall and body. It had the texture of chipping paint, the color of what you could only describe as a wilted rose petal. 

  You didn't even wish to describe the smell. It was so strong you wondered how nobody had noticed, but to be fair, neither had you. A scowl crossed your face as a shiver of nausea ran through your body. Your heart started racing as accelerated breaths left your lungs, a panic rising through your body. A single polaroid photo was pinned on the chest of the dead man. Even from this distance, you could see the white of Ghostface's mask.

  You jolted as you felt a hand between your shoulder blades, quickly whipping your head towards Jed. You don't know how you knew it was him. Maybe it was his cologne. Although you thought it smelled good earlier, it was no longer appealing.

  "Let's go, doll." You nodded your head as you were guided out of the hallway into a room towards the building's entrance. Abby was by your side the minute you took a seat, a comforting hand on your shoulder. Despite the anxiety you were displaying, you were surprisingly calm. You eventually managed to quell your breathing and looked around. The room was small; you would assume that it was used for meetings of little importance. There were two cops inside the room with you, both with sullen looks on their faces. Abby's hand was still resting on your shoulder, and you turned towards her with a small smile.

  "I'm ok now, thank you." Abby returned the phrase with a sheepish smile, with which she removed her hand. Her face had no appearance of joy left, opposite of how she looked earlier. The door to the once shut room clicked open, bringing in your grandfather with Detective Macher hot on his heels. Sherrif McKay turned to comfort you but stopped; you assumed to keep an air of professionalism in the situation.

  "Thank you all for agreeing to meet us in here. Detective Macher will be interrogating you separately, starting with you, Y/N." The sheriff turns to you with the sorrowful eyes of a grandfather, but you only nod. 

  "This way, Y/N." You follow Detective Macher into a room across the hall, nearly identical to the one you were in before. The only difference between the two was the chill in the air radiating off of the detective's body. He gestured towards a chair and sat, him following suit.

  "The first thing I'd like to go over is what happened today." Detective Macher stared at you, tapping his pen against his notepad. With a deep breath, you slowly explained as many details as you could. When you were done, you looked back up at the detective. You don't know when, but you had looked down towards your fingers as you recounted the events.

  "Thank you, Y/N. The only other thing I ask is if you remember any other details from your attack." A rush of anxiety surges through your body as you recall that night. You yelp as fear and adrenaline flood your mind as you clutch your chest. Everything goes silent but you feel a hand on your shoulder and the smell of cologne. Sounds start to fade back into existence; your name is being called.

  You gasp as your head snaps up, your grandpa on the floor beside you. You look around the room to see Jed standing in the doorway, Abby right behind him. 

  "Y/N? Are you ok?" Your grandpa is lightly shaking your shoulders, though it's barely discernable as you're quivering yourself. Tears were stinging your eyes as you desperately tried to answer him; nothing came out. Your grandpa turned towards the detective with fire in his eyes, which only caused the detective's apologetic reaction into fear.

  "What did you do to her Peter? What did you do?" Sheriff McKay is on his feet in seconds, walking towards the man in two solid strides. Anger is radiating off of him and the only thing you can do is squeak out a feeble call.