Poison Within
"So the knife was found…" Chandler said.
"Close to the body, about two metres." Miles informed.
"So maybe he…saw his attacker coming and armed himself." Chandler suggested. "What was nearest to the knife?"
Miles looked at his clipboard. "Test tube, 7 metres. Used condom, 15 metres…it's different DNA."
"Any drug paraphernalia, bent spoons?"
"Uh, beer cans …sweet wrapper."
"What about the shoe?" Chandler picked up the article in question with a handkerchief.
"That was 120 metres away."
"And the other one?"
"The other one was 70 metres away."
"Apart from the mud, they look new, there's barely a scratch on them." Chandler put the shoes down and walked over to where the other one was and did the same as he had with its previous partner. "Would they be expensive?" He turned to Riley.
"What make are they? Oh, not much change from a one." She replied.
"Who leaves a brand new, pair of hundred pound shoes in the middle of a cemetery?" Chandler said.
"She was either very pissed or very frightened." Miles observed.
"Distance between them suggests she could've been running away from someone." Chandler noted.
"Or something." Riley proposed.
Chandler peered inside the shoe and turned it towards the light. "There's blood on the inside." He stated and gave it to Riley. "Must have been rubbing her heel, get it down to the lab, see if we can get a DNA sample. We might have a witness."
"Just like Cinderella." Riley mused, walking away with the red shoe.
"Sarge, we've got a missing person alert." Kent said. "The workshop owner Sid Walden, his wife came home late, said his car and keys were there but he wasn't."
Chandler grabbed his blazer. "Come on, let's go."
"Clear this mess up, will you son?" Miles called out to Kent who slumped back in his chair.
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"Right, according to Harry Barnett's phone records, the last person to phone him this afternoon was Sid Walden, tipping him off I suppose." Miles said, putting his phone away. He and Chandler sped along in Chandler's car.
"Well that makes Walden less of a suspect, why would he call Barnett if he knew he was already dead?"
"Good point."
All units, suspected abduction at the corner of Malcolm Place, female suspect spotted dragging a body into a factory.
"That's just the other side of the station." Miles said.
They drove over to where the suspect was seen.
"The lady said she saw someone dragging a body from the van into the factory. We're doing a PMC check on the registration." They were informed.
"This is DS Miles requesting immediate back-up."
"We can't wait." Chandler said; rushing inside as Miles gave more information to their location for their back-up. Chandler slid under a shutter and Miles followed suit soon after, the former finding blood on the ground and noticing it got on his hands and face. He tried to push his disgust to the side and focus on the killer that could be inside. He pulled out a handkerchief to wipe away the blood of some unfortunate victim and kept walking, dabbing at his face as he did. He shone his flashlight through the space he found himself in; onto a few pairs of scissors, dangling from strings to dry in a macabre fashion.
He noticed an assortment of odd things and kept moving on, he pulled back a transparent sheet serving as a curtain and saw a large room, empty save for more transparent sheets being supported by poles, creating something similar to an operating theatre. A very gruesome operating theatre it would make; the sheets had large, violent splashes of blood, and Chandler could hear the distinct revving of a chainsaw. He ran into the structure. "Freeze!" He called out to the perpetrator who turned around with a shocked look on her face and the revving stopped. "Put the weapon down!" He commanded.
"It's not a weapon." Abigail Perkins said.
"Boss!" Miles called out, running in. "False alarm. It's for an art installation, opens next month." He held out a slip of paper to Chandler who looked at him, confused.
"What, but where's Milo?"
"You're looking at him. She is Sebastian Milo, aren't you? Aren't you?"
Abigail's eyes widened in shock but didn't say anything.
"You?" Chandler looked at her with disbelief. "Book her, for wasting police time."
"Don't worry, I'll talk him down." Miles said once his boss left.
"I'm sorry. Can you keep my name out of the papers?"
"I'll try, but maybe it's time for you to step out of Milo's shadow. Show the world who Abigail Perkins is. You're a bright girl, don't hide your light."
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Chandler struggled up the stairs, panting and tugging at his tie which seemed to think it was animate and its life purpose was to brutally crush his windpipe. He roughly dusted his hand with his handkerchief and kept going up the stairs, taking off his coat as he was starting to feel very hot.
It's just because I'm running up the stairs, and it's warm in here compared to outside.
He hurried into the bathroom and began hastily stripping. He fingers fumbled with his shirt buttons. Got to get it off. He tore off his shirt and put it to one side. He turned the tap but nothing came out. His breathing became faster as he panicked and he struck it with his hand. Work damn it! Nothing. Frustrated, his face contorted in contravention and he looked around anxiously and his eyes fell on his used handkerchief.
He picked up his reddened cloth in an attempt to wipe away the blood yet his attempt was futile. The dry cloth was not helping him get rid of the thick blood on his face. He tried scouring his face again yet he was getting nowhere and his face was now flushed and he was still panting. He hit the tap again and again. He had to get it to work; it was the sink he absolutely had to use. He stopped, closed his eyes and clenched his jaw and felt all his muscles tighten in anger for a then turned his attention to the sink and hit it instead of the tap. His desperate hand slapping against the porcelain made the pipes groan so he continued his action. The groaning increased under his unrelenting blows and suddenly, black gunk spluttered out. Had previously been crouching over the sink but straightened up in shock and revulsion when he saw what the tap produced.
The tap was now violently spewing more, as if it were mocking him. He stared at his hands and covered his face with them, unable to bear the sight of ebony darkness, tainting the porcelain.
He slowly streaked his hands up and down his face, his skin turning redder. He wanted to peel off his own skin like the killer did to his victims. He scratched at his face but that didn't do much damage. Please. He begged inwardly as his manicured nails did little to extinguish the agony he felt.
He clawed desperately at his skin, unable to endure the horrific sensations resonating through his bones. The chill that choked his spine made him squirm as he fought for his sanity, the blood on his skin flooded his veins with imaginary venom and he writhed as he continued to claw at his face. He dragged his trimmed nails through his skin and let out an agonised roar.
Kent was sitting at his desk fuming that Riley and Miles had left. I've been working here longer than them yet I'm still treated like a bloody child. I can take care of myself. He was angry at Miles for not letting him go home and he was also feeling irritable which was customary for him when Chandler wasn't around.
Suddenly he heard a roar of agony coming from the men's room. He shot to his feet and made his way to the door. It sounds like…no, it couldn't be. He pushed open the door to see his boss slouched over the sink –shirtless, Kent inhaled sharply when he walked in as that detail was the first thing he noticed. His eyes roamed over the curve of the other man's back, the tense muscles, straining against the pain its master felt. He exhaled deeply as he took in the ivory skin and the bumps and ridges of muscles contained within. A groan brought him out of his reverie and he saw his DI grip the sides of the sink to steady himself before raking his fingers through his hair and over his face. Kent was at a loss as to what to do as his boss was slumped over the sink, one hand clawing at his face and the other thumping the sink trying to get the clean water out.
Chandler groaned again and Kent slowly stepped closer to him. "Sir?" He asked cautiously. A low growl came from Chandler as he rubbed his face ferociously, ignoring Kent.
"Got to get it off…please come off." Chandler muttered.
Kent placed a hesitant hand on Chandler's back; his skin was soft yet held firm muscles underneath. Chandler was startled by the sudden feeling of a cold hand on his warm skin. "Come on, let's go downstairs." Kent said.
"No I…" Chandler protested.
"Sir let me help you."
"I have to get it off…off."
"I'll help you get it off if you come with me."
"But I…"
Kent kept his hand on Chandler's shoulder and they made their way to the exit.
"Let's just get you down these stairs...alright sir? I promise you'll feel better afterwards."
"But I have to get it off." Chandler said, panicking.
"I know; we'll get it off."
Kent took him downstairs and dragged him to Chandler's office. By now Chandler was sweating profusely which Kent should've found revolting, but he thought it was the most erotic thing ever. Having the older man groaning and sweating under him was making him think of scenarios in which Chandler did so but under more …pleasurable circumstances. Kent snapped the thoughts away. He took Chandler into the office at which point the blond collapsed gracelessly into his chair.
Come on Sir, let's get you dressed." Kent soothed, the selfish part of him protesting.
"Get it off. Just get it off please." Chandler begged.
Kent put the kettle on and sat Chandler down in a chair, he was rubbing his face again and Kent wished they both wished the kettle would hurry up.
Chandler fidgeted and looked up at Kent pleadingly. "Get it off, please. It's stuck on me, I can't…" He ground his teeth. If there was one thing he hated more than dirt, it was stewing in dirt.
"It'll be alright, Sir." Kent said calmly but inside he was slightly irked. What does he want me to do, scratch it off?
He soaked a cloth in the water when it was ready and wiped Chandler's face with it. It was like peeling off a second layer of skin and it was difficult as the temptation was just burning inside him now. He could smell Chandler's sweat and his tiger balm and something so distinctively Chandler that he couldn't give it a name.
"Kent! Please...just get it off." His DI almost sobbed.
Something stirred inside Kent now…anger. Can't you see I'm doing the best I can? It's killing me to see you like this. He felt his face warp but he shrugged it off. He didn't need a mirror to see it, he knew it happened but he hoped his DI hadn't noticed. He can never know. I have to be perfect, perfect for Sir.
He wanted to help him, and make everything impeccable. He had poured the hot water in a bowl with colder water so that the temperature would be perfect. Perfect like the face he gently dabbed, perfect like the smooth skin he slowly cleansed, and perfect like the man who was slowly starting to relax.
Just as Chandler anxiety began to diminish, he looked down and noticed that some of the black slime had splashed onto his stomach.
"Oh God!" He exclaimed when he saw it. Gnashing his teeth, he gripped the arms on his chair, not wanting to touch it yet wanting nothing more than for it to be gone.
"It's alright Sir, calm down." Kent said as he wiped the evil-looking goo off of his boss. He tried not to be distracted by the flawless abs that his finger itched to touch, and his tongue ached to caress. God how I want to kiss his incredible body, and those pink, full lips. He saw his boss looking at him with desperate eyes and he felt himself getting lost the beautiful Egyptian blue before snapping out of his thoughts and into reality.
"Get it off!"
"Yes sir." Anything for you sir.
"It's disgusting."
"It's coming off. Don't worry sir."
"Kent, thank you. I-you've always been kind to me. I remember when I first came, you gave me chalk."
"You remember that?"
"It's hard to forget the first kindness anyone showed to me here."
"It was just chalk, sir."
"But no one else would give it to me. You did, and ever since then you've shown your loyalty in small yet significant ways. You've shown how you care about me, and I care about you…very much."
Chandler leaned in closer to the speechless DC. He pressed his lips quickly onto Kent's and pulled away before the other man had time to respond.
"I-I love you Kent." He said, looking down at the floor, feeling embarrassed.
"I love you too sir, for longer than you can imagine." Kent placed his hand on Chandler's shoulder which relaxed and Kent moved his hand to Chandler's neck and he brought his head up to his own and kissed him deeply. Kent ran his hands down his boss's back and Chandler plunged his hand into Kent's curls, his strong hand roving through Kent's hair and down his neck. Kent moaned as Candler bit his lip lightly and…
"Kent."
He was snapped back to reality.
"Get it off."
"Uh –yes sir." He kept wiping. "It's off now."
"Oh ok."
Kent found a clean shirt and helped his boss put it on. Chandler put his tie on, straightened it in the mirror and looked at Kent who was amazed by the transformation. Chandler looked like his usual self; calm and composed. "Er… thank you Kent. You can go home now."
"Goodnight sir." That's what I get? After what I did, it's not like I made him a fucking cup of tea."
"Goodnight." Chandler switched off the lights left. Kent went back down into the men's room and stood by the sink. Chandler's sink. He stared down at the black goo that remained in the sink. He ran his hand along the inside of the sink, feeling his anger build up.
"Worthless, nothing to him, after all I've done and he doesn't give a shit." He seethed to the sink as it would understand, it was like him. Filthy, hollow, filled with evil, and repulsive in Chandler's eyes.
"He doesn't understand what it's like, to see him every day and…" He ground his teeth and scratched his nails along the porcelain, resulting in an eerie sound. "He doesn't know how hard it is to love someone who barely knows you exist." He sighed indignantly.
He held up his hand and inspected the vile liquid leaking through his fingers. He smeared his hand over his face, the gunk spreading over his skin like the dark nectar of his wounded soul. He felt filthy, used, unworthy. That was what he felt on the inside and now it was what he looked like on the outside.
More He thought, feeling the urge to be more like Chandler. He tore off his jacket, the black material sprawled itself onto the floor, the sound of its buttons tap dancing on the tiles accompanied Kent's escalated breaths as he pulled his tie off and it too landed on the floor, coiling in protest.
He fumbled with the buttons on his shirt, the overwhelming urge building up. He finally found his pale flesh and his hands then went up to his face and he rubbed it again before dragging his hands down his neck, the sludge coming along for the ride. When his hands passed his collarbone his fingers curled so that his nails were on his skin. He dug them deeper and continued his journey down his chest and then he began to escalate the speed and change the pattern, his nails' peregrination turned more violent and his movements erratic. He groaned and screamed and pulled at the tuft of dark hair adorning the ivory skin.
He viciously scratched his torso whilst continuing to smear his face. He ran his fingers through his hair just like Chandler had and scratched his chest like a madman like Chandler had to his face.
"He doesn't care, doesn't even notice me. That bastard, he's completely ignorant of how I feel for him."
He looked in the mirror and saw himself staring back at him, his hazel eyes had turned extremely dark yet his face hadn't warped. His face was a mask to hide the darkness inside him, yet it hadn't warped to show his true self. It did not reveal the poison within.
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