The Journals of Scarlett Holman.
November 30
11:30am
Frustrating! Oh how frustrating! Such low tolerance that people have. Honestly I can't be the worst flatmate in London. I would pay my share of the rent, I wouldn't be a bother unless you are sensitive as an orchid, and I am clean... If you happen to ignore occasional finger or eyeball from one of my miscellaneous experiments. People usually squirm around those kind of things it's rather infuriating. They rather be catching up with old friends or meeting loved ones, oh how dull. Excuse me if I find there more deserving things to fill up my time. I'll get back on it later.
3:30pm
Experiment: Bruising after Death
Subject: Caucasian Male of 40, 6ft 280lbs.
Time of Death: 9:47am about 6 and half hours ago
Cause of Death: Bad eating habits. High cholesterol caused the stroke. Side note: It wouldn't matter if he was healthy, the addiction to cigarettes would have taken him down in about ten years by the look of his nicotine stained fingers, and I don't just mean the tips.
Objects used: Stick
Outcome: No bruising. All the blood has settled on the subjects back, my conclusion is that people cannot bruise after death because there is no blood circulatio-
Two people enter the room. I glance up to see Mr. Stamford and another young man 'Well,' I think. 'He works fast.'
"Scarlett I would like to introduce an old friend Jay Watson," beams Stamford. I look over at Stamford for just a moment and then glance at the Watson fellow to examine. First, he's obviously military, face and hands are tanned but pale wrists, but that isn't the obvious tell. The way he is hair had been cut and has grown in quite awkwardly. Now this Jay Watson didn't finish his term serving in Iraq or Afghanistan, he was honorably discharged for an injury. Left shoulder I presume from the way his left arm is stiff and how he uncomfortably hold it. He looks around the room but not out of curiosity. He also wasn't phased with the dead body in the room, but any military man that has been in combat would be use to the sight of a corpse but he had a relaxed air about him, obviously an army doctor. Not a second has gone by. I shake his hand.
"How long were you in combat?" I asked. His brow furrowed.
"How did-" he started glancing at Stamford.
"Do you mind the piano?" I ask while going back to my computer. I finish typing my sentence and close my Mac. I could feel the confusion in the air radiating off Watson.
"Do I mind the piano? Well," he clears his throat shakes his head at the floor. Good, the search for a flatmate might be over.
"If its played well then I don't-"
"Good. Meet me tomorrow at around noon here." I say zipping the body bag. I put my Mac into my old backpack and take out my aviators.
"What... I don't understand." He replies. I sigh impatiently.
"Earlier today I was complaining at the fact that there is no one who will share a flat with me and he just suddenly comes after lunch with an old friend who has just be released from being in combat. Obviously you are looking with a place to stay but can't afford to eat on the pension they gave you. So this old friend who you just happened to cross paths with. So you two catch up and you include that you are needing a roommate and it just so happens that not even three hours before I was expressing my difficulties with finding a roommate. So why else would you be here? Old friends wouldn't be so excited in seeing the others workspace now would they." I smirk at the stricken awe on Watson's face.
"I am Scarlett Holman but do feel aloud to call me Scar, afternoon." I say while putting my aviators on. I leave the room. On my wa down the stairs, out the door and onto my bike I am chuckling in amusement.