Disclaimer: I do not own the characters. I am not affiliated in any way, shape or form with anyone who does.
A/N: I wasn't sure if this was supposed to be rated T or M so I decided to vote for safety and rate M.
Greg looked at the scene around him. Empty ambulances, the paramedics inside packing up the equipment ready to leave, the crime scene tape flapping in the wind and the neighbours crowded outside of it, eager to see what was going on.
But there was one person who was different to the rest of them, a teenage boy who was sitting with an oxygen mask, his entire body shaking as the paramedic tended to him.
"That's the kid who called 911," Greg almost jumped, not having heard Sara arrive behind him. "Matthew Flare, aged fifteen, said he came home from a party to find his parents and three siblings dead. They're all still in the house."
Greg tore his eyes away to look at Sara, "what happened?"
"Don't know yet, that's why we're here." She paused, "it's pretty gruesome though, you think you're up to it?"
"Yeah," he nodded, letting her lead the way in. The way that he viewed it, he needed to get more desensitised to crime scenes. They still unnerved him. He walked in over the open door.
"First body is in the kitchen…" Sara walked off again and Greg trailed after her. He stopped in the doorway feeling sick. A woman, early forties was lying on the floor, wearing a pale pink dressing gown, eyes and hands squeezed closed. The large amount of blood on the floor came from a stab wound in her stomach and a gash across her throat. Her pale blonde hair was now tinted red at the ends. Sara looked up at him, noticing that he was frozen. "You okay? 'Coz this is the easiest one."
"I'm fine." He wasn't sure that he was going to be fine but he decided that he had to continue regardless. This was his dream job and he didn't want to get fired because he couldn't handle it.
Sara walked back into the kitchen, up the stairs and paused outside of a door, letting Greg catch up. "Father's in there."
Greg entered the room. The father was lying half on the bed, his feet dangling onto the floor. There were multiple stab wounds in his stomach and he sported a slashed palm.
"Come on," she moved away again and led him to another room. "Sister Abigail Flare, aged sixteen." Abigail was lying on her bed as well, mobile phone near her hand, eyes wide and staring.
"Last room's the hardest, you might not want to go in there."
"I can handle it. I got this far."
Sara opened the door that joined the room with Abigail's and Greg placed a hand over his mouth, looking away and trying not to vomit. "Sisters Louise and Melanie, aged six."
Greg shook his head. "I can't look."
Sara nodded, closing the door. "You can go work on the mom's body, if you want, it's the easiest." Greg wondered if he should do what Sara said; not sure if she was suggesting that he couldn't handle being a true crime scene investigator. He decided to go for the harshest that he could manage.
"I'll take the older sister." He turned, leaving the room, wondering if he would be able to stay in the house long enough to prove that he was worthy.