So much blood.

Why was there so much blood?

Bathing the floor.

Coving his hands.

Around his mouth.

Flesh in his teeth.

What would he do with the body? No, what would he do with what was left of the body?

Someone was going to notice she was missing.

The men would come for him.

He couldn't breathe, he could barely stand, forearms soaked in red, shaking violently and he held them out in front of him as if they weren't his, as if they were simply the tools of some flesh crazed murderous psychopath, which, was no matter how he refused to accept or believe it, was the truth.

You have, one, new answer phone message.

Press one to save the message, press two to hear it, press three to delete the message, or press four to call back the number.

Kurt was not the kind to take crap from anybody, especially the pitiful, thick headed, lowlifes that chose to undertake prank calling, which he tolerated hundreds of at high school sure but now, this was starting to become more than some joke.

For a few weeks now, every Friday, on his way home from work Kurt would receive a voicemail from a blocked caller number, but never an actual call, and the messages seemed to have a pattern. He could have easily told his head of office, Sarah, that he had potential further evidence on the "Manhattan Massacres" but Sarah would take the credit, make a public announcement, and stir up the public for attention like she always did. No this was his case, his own privet investigation and to have this arrest on his records would make him law enforcement legend.

That night, Kurt hastily made his way to his apartment, got the elevator to his floor and threw his briefcase onto the couch and locked the doors behind him. Then, he rummaged through the cascading mountain of paperwork to find a sparsely used notebook. Blindly ripping out a handful of irrelevant pages he then grabbed a pen and underlined his title.

"The Manhattan Massacres: evidence gathered by NYPD Privet Detective Kurt Hummel"

Kurt then proceeded to jot down everything he heard…

It began with breathing, deep, heavy and slow with a slight rasp,

Kurt had been through various exercises during his intensive police training to finely tune his senses and instincts to decipher micro expressions on liars' faces and even how to identify a person's physic though pitch pace and tone of voice, since this call didn't even contain speech it required a lot more concentration but Kurt was convinced that the voice was,

Definitely male between the ages of 16 and 25, then, footsteps, also slow no more than 5 or 6 paces, and then finally,

and this is why Kurt was so scared, he hadn't be able to figure out what was happening the first two calls but during that third week, the pieces started to slot together, the silence, the breathing,

The muffled crying and pleads always followed by a soft whimper and a loud thud,

at first Kurt had first assumed it was a wrong number and that what he had heard was a couple breaking up and someone storming out, or even domestic violence but no, no this was more, this was sick.

This was the sound of someone being slaughtered.

That word hit Kurt a little too strongly and echoed around his head for a few minutes causing him to be slightly shaken. This was dangerous. Not only that but stupid. He knew he could solve it but it was ridiculous to believe he could do so on his own. This person/monster had got hold of his contact details, his personal mobile number and allowing himself to roam around the less accommodating streets of New York unaccompanied or without someone to trust was a death wish.

He needed someone strong minded, someone on the same wave as him but not afraid to snap him out of a bad decision and give their opinions, an equal, and with just as much drive for success as him.

Kurt closed his eyes and was just about to walk through his mental address diary when a shiny curtain of dark chocolate hair whished around his office door,

"Hummel! Finally, someone to compliment me on my impeccable criminal analysis studies and to watch Love actually with! Now grab a bowl of popcorn and get in here, you know the rules roomie, work hard, play hard"

Berry….

Bingo.