Ryu files the photographs, stealing glances and recalling, along with the images, the scent of blood, decay and old wood and the hushed tones of whispered words. He remembers the heat, suffocating in that little room that witnessed the brutal murder. He almost hears the cameras clicking away, the medical examiner's dull monotone but shrugs it away and continues. His fingers brush over evidence, dust and memories and he stores it carefully, to be filed and forgotten.
He remembers the police and their loud banter, almost disrespectful in a place where someone had died but Kinta had noticed his discomfort and explained that it was a way to cope, to numb themselves and forget. To keep their sanity. To help them stomach the things people do to one another.
Ryu understands.
The case had been closed. The killer had been found out, caught and would have made his way to death penalty had he not grabbed a cop's gun and shot himself. Another mess to clean up with and still Ryu didn't have any answers.
Oh, he can figure out their methods, their mannerism, and their hobbies and how it corresponds to the way they select their victims. He could guess their motive and find out who is the next target, how, where even when; but he had yet to discover what drives them to end one life after another and how they could stand to be surrounded with something as surreal as death. Ryu had his own share of ghosts, and wondered how they fought theirs.
Ryu sees the mangled hand in his mind, remembers hoping it was just a rose in the bushes but knowing it is not, and pushes back the bile.
"They're almost finished clearing up the scene." Ryu is startled. Kyu's voice is flat and worn-out and he's certain he isn't any better so he makes a wise decision and doesn't try to placate his partner.
They stand there for a while, Ryu with his back to his former classmate and colleague and they fight with similar demons and both are losing.
"Ryu…" Kyu starts, his voice is near breaking but he manages. Ryu hears the sound of nails dragging on wood. "Have you ever regretted being a detective?"
Yes. A million times. Everyday. "No." Ryu doesn't know where he found the energy to face his friend. "You said it before Kyu. If a detective gives up…"
"The case remains unsolved." Kyu finishes bitterly. "That's just the point, Ryu. Case close. Perp caught but at what cost? There's still a girl dead, with her dreams ahead of her and I can't fucking do anything. I was just talking to her a minute before she was killed, Ryu. We were having a nice fucking lunch together!!!"
The telltale tears are flooding those golden eyes and Ryu feels himself slip into professional mode. He is smooth and calm and he almost believes that he doesn't feel a thing.
"This isn't your first corpse, Kyu." He hears his voice saying. Ryu wanted to smack himself for sounding so insensitive but can't stop the programmed words from slipping out. "And in this profession, it won't be your last."
"If you can't take the heat, get out of the kitchen." Kyu quotes.
"Precisely."
Kyu opens his mouth to retort, thinks otherwise, and leaves without another word.
Ryu closes his eyes. He wants to apologize, but can't. The demons are back and they are clawing at his head.
He turns back to the scattered photographs, seeing glimpses of the life the unnamed girl has left. He saw her secrets, her dreams and he had invaded her life. He feels blood in his hands and hears hissing in his ears and they are blaming him for her death.
Why hadn't he arrived sooner? Why hadn't he protected her? Why couldn't he save her?
The liquid blue eyes are cold, dead, and accusing and Ryu feels that he had killed her himself.
A/N: Sometimes, I feel like I'm the only one who can understand whatever crap I write. *sigh* I am still alive but my writing is dead. Bite me.