Animals {Frerard}

Chapter 22: Shockwave

Ik, Ik, I was late again... Sorry?

I'm still screaming, unable to stop the broken, guttural sound from escaping my lips. I fall to my knees. I can't look away. My eyes are glued to Pete's cold, dead, unseeing irises. His eyes are still open, staring blindly at me. My brain can't process the fact that a man I saw less than five hours ago is dead.

People start to run over, gravitating towards my awful, awful scream. They join my silence, my shock, and together they stand there. Nobody ventures closer than a few metres, leaving a ring of no mans land around me and Pete. I see Mikey join the crowd. I see his face caving in on itself as he sees the body on the ground. I see the happiness in his eyes fade.

Another guy in the audience, that I don't recognise, is holding a phone to his ear. His conversation is easily audible in the deadly quiet. "Hello? 911? There's a body on the floor. I'm at Pine Smoke diner, Waters Lane. Thank you."

It seems like only moments later that the police car arrives, sirens blaring and lights glaring. The officers immediately head towards the ashen, shaken people crowding around me.

I hear them telling everyone to move. I can't. I can't leave Pete lying here alone.

One of them tries to speak to me, but all I can hear are Mikey's protests as he is shooed away with the rest of the onlookers like sheep. But he is urged away as the area is marked out by bright yellow tape, with me still inside it.

"Hello, sir? Can you talk to me? I need to know what happened?" It's a woman talking to me, with dark expresso skin and warm amber eyes. There is sympathy in those glowing eyes. She seems genuinely sorry for me, as though she understands. But no one could understand.

I shake my head miserably. "I can't- I don't-" My pathetic attempts at starting a sentence hang between us as she moves her hand to my shoulder. Her eyes are steady, a lifeline.

"Darling, I need you to tell me what you know. Staying quiet will only make this harder," She appeals. "Please help us."

I want to help, I do. But the words are sticking in my throat and I'm choking on my own saliva. I need to do this. I need to be strong. I think about Mikey, how much worse this must be for him.

The policewoman's presence is so calming that eventually I am able to speak. "I was trying to hide from my friend's brother. It was a game. But then I saw Pete-" I can't say anymore because a sob breaks through, yet the woman seems encouraged by my answer.

"You said his name was Pete? Do you know him?"

"Yes, his full name is Peter Wentz, we were friends in high school," I gasp, watching her pen move as she notes that down.

"Thank you so much, please wait to one side and an investigator will ask you more questions in a minute." She requests politely, helping me to stand up, then leading me out of the bush and under the tape.

As we walk past, I catch a final glimpse of Pete's body, seeing something I missed before.

There are fresh slits all over his body, blanketing his arms and legs. His body is twisted, blood leaking out of the cuts. All the fingers on his left hand have been cut off, and are scattered on the ground like twigs. I almost throw up at the gory sight.

Pete's body is dreadfully mutilated. That can only mean one thing. Pete was murdered by the Ripper.

Then I do throw up, the contents of my stomach ending up in a pile on the floor. My throat burns with the acidic taste, as I retch into the grass. Shudders run through my fragile body. Eventually, the smell reaches my nose causing me to gag and my eyes to water.