Little Red Part 2: Dead Girl In The Morgue

Read Part 1

Around the back of Harken city’s police station, a young officer working every hour under the sun in an attempt to make detective, carried a sobbing wet bodybag through the morgue doors and laid her out on the examination table. A tall, freakish looking guy in a cliche white lab coat approached with a ‘seen-it-all-before’ look on his face, and sighed as he checked off something from some sheets of paper on a clipboard. 

“Thank you, Officer Kilne. Myself and Detective Russo will take it from here. It says here that vic’s name is Abigail Tait, is that correct?” His voice was sleepy and monotonous.

Drip, drip. Drip, drip. 

Water began to pool on the tiled floor around the table. Kilne could see the open-eyed, dazzled face of the dead girl in his mind. Her tightly curled red hair soaked in the even more vibrant, sticky red of her own blood.

Drip, drip. Drip, drip.

Even the downpour couldn’t wash away the gore. It certainly couldn’t wash away his feelings. Maybe it did make him weak. Maybe that’s why he’s been held back from detective, despite working day and night on every case that crossed his path. Maybe he didn’t have the stomach for it. 

Drip, drip. Drip, drip.

The rhythmic droplets echoed around the room. Fucking ‘vic.’ That’s someone’s kid in there. As torn apart as the family he now had to call and inform that their little girl has been found. Found but lost forever. 

“No problem. Get Russo to call if he needs anything.” Kilne made a quick exit out the white double doors and let them slam behind him. Fucking vic. 

* * * * *

The bag was drenched from the lashings of rain, and lab-coat guy—who according to his nametag was called Bob 🙂—was sick to death of hearing that incessant dripping.

Drip, drip. Drip, drip. 

He knew he should wait for the detective to at least be present in the room, but if he didn’t get her out of that bag soon he would drive himself mad. Plus he maybe had enough time to have some fun before Russo showed up. Usually he’d be fine to bottle it up until after the initial inspection, but something about this one got him hot under the collar. He could feel himself swelling up with excitement already.

Drip, drip. Drip, drip. 

Without remorse, he stepped forward and pulled the zip down past her head. Her little pale face was pretty, angelic even, framed by blood soaked hair that set his insides on fire. He trembled as he lent his face toward her and breathed in her scent. Innocence and death. He ran a long, twig like finger across her cheek, over her chin, and down the artery in her neck. He paused between her collar bones. His swelling grew rock hard. 

Drip, drip. Drip, drip. 

He noticed two small entry points on the opposite artery where two trickles of blood had poured from each of the small wounds and found their way down to her chest. He made a mental note of that, but for now he didn’t care too much about finding out what happened to her. He needed to see her. All of her. Touch her. Bob’s hardness got sticky and wet. 

Drip, drip. 

He pulled the zip further down, revealing the dead girl’s body in one slow, fluid motion. She was pristine, cherub white. Beautifully freckled. 

Drip, drip. 

He lifted her feet out from the bag, then started to run his hand up her small, pale leg. From the calf to the ligaments of the knee. Higher he climbed. Slower. Firmer. The inner thigh. Soft, cold, young skin. His heart raced with excitement. 

Drip.

The dead girl woke up.

Before Bob could react, the girl hunched up from the table and snatched ahold of his wrist. He looked at her in terror, her eyes as red as the blood that stained her skin, and wild like fire. He tried to scream but the shock held all the air in his lungs. He couldn’t breathe! 

The girl’s own breaths were like the deep, animalistic rumbles of a lion’s roar, mixed with the wet throatiness of a hiss. Her nails cut deeply through the skin of his wrist, her grip crushing the bones and tendons inside. 

Without a second’s hesitation she ripped him towards her and tore out his throat with her teeth. He tasted amazing.

* * * * *

Once the heart-wrenching telephone conversation with Mrs. Tait was over, Kline was officially off duty. It was time to go home to his family—to cuddle his wife while she slept beside him, with his own daughter growing more each day within her womb. But how could he? The Taits would be getting ready to head down to the station and identify their only child, and Detective Russo could get fucked if he thought Kline wasn’t gonna be there for them.

Storming through the rain toward the morgue once more, he couldn’t get his mind off the face of that young girl and the ‘drip, drip’ that fell from the sodden bag that housed her. He pushed through the set of double doors and was shocked by the sight of what lay beyond them. 

The white floor-tiles were smeared with thick blood and littered with various organs, blood and guts strewn out across the large expanse. The white and the red conjured up an image of a predator tearing apart its prey on a snowy mountain somewhere, the once untouched mass of serene brightness, shifted and reformed into the bloodstained memory of the creatures that fought there.

Among the mess Kilne located what was left of Bob’s body. He had deep scratches across his face and bite marks all over his body. It was as if he was ravaged by an angry bear. The wannabe detective almost spewed his lunch all over the crime scene, but careful practice had taught him what that would mean for his career. He stood motionless, his mind racing. What happened here? And what about Abigail’s body? 

What the fuck had happened to Abigail’s body?

End Of Part 2

Read Part 3 Here: When A Dead Girl Wakes Up

So I guess that means there’s a part 3 🤷‍♂️ What can I say? I’m just seriously getting into this one and it’s characters! Don’t worry though, tomorrow’s post will close off this story and we’ll still have 26 days to explore more horror scenarios throughout this insane 31 day event! So what did you think? Let me know in the comments below!

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Whispers From The Dark is a 31 day flash fiction event, promising a horror based flash-fiction each day of the month in the build up to Halloween. All Posts will be pulled down on the 10th November, refined, edited, and placed into a full colour PDF Ezine for sale. This is a recurring yearly event.

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Whispers From The Dark ‘Supporters Edition’ E’zine

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Author: Gary Holdaway

A multi genre author of short stories and novels, writing a curious mix of quick online reads and lifestyle posts.

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