I pulled up to a neglected brick house. Harold was outside surrounded by the police and press. It looked like Harold was trying to talk to the police but the press kept interrupting him. The police officer's face turned red as he started to yell at them. Even then they wouldn't leave them alone. Eventually I could hear the officer saying anyone who doesn't leave will be arrested for heeding an investigation.

I pulled my corvette over to the side walk, close enough to the crime so I could run to it if needed but also far enough to where the press couldn't see me. The feeling of déjà vu was really strong but after all I had went though it made sense. I spent time calming my nerves since I knew what was just inside those doors.

I snuck up on Harold, trying to scare him, and also hoping to save him from the horrors of the press in my own special way. I was right behind him when I screamed boo and pushed him forward. He made a yelp and turned as quick as his twenty-two year old body would let him. The press was shocked at the events that had just unfolded in front of them.

I stared at Harold looking all innocent using that chibi puppy dog face. He glared at me. Harold was not bad looking, most would consider him quite handsome. His shaggy blond surfer style hair made a lot of girls melt even in winter. And his deep blue eyes made other men and boys envy him. He was easy to scare though but he was fun to be around.

"Toni! What the heck was that for? We are here on business, not for play. You know that. Lets go to the scene," He screeched and grabbed my hand.

"Ohhhh, poor Harold, I know I'm here on business. I'm just trying to lighten the murderous intent around us," I replied smoothly.

I followed him like a lost puppy. Harold turned around when he got to the door and said he's already seen it and that he was not going back in there. He also saw his breakfast once and didn't want to see it yet again.

I had gloves before I even tried to open the door. The first thing I noticed was the stench that smelled like rusted iron and gas. It was appalling because I knew there was going to have to be a lot of blood to be that strong. I could also smell the rotting flesh. I gagged but I held down my snack from this morning, with difficulty might I add. I didn't want to ruin the scene with my snack.

I had to walk down another hallway just to get to the body. Wait I wouldn't really call it a body because it looked more like hamburger meat after it has been in a meat grinder for hours.

I stared at the walls that used to be white, at least a photo told me it was, but it looked more like a red painted room. Parts of the body was splattered against the wall. I couldn't tell if things were walls or if they were parts of the body, it all started to run together.

The body was dismembered and ripped apart like it was mauled. His intestines were from the bathroom all the way to the living room, where he died (how ironic), which was at least ten feet way. There were bloody hand prints that made it looked as if he was dragged and he tried to resist the movement. He had a burn mark on him in the shape of a strawberry, it made me think of the strawberry on my shoulder. His arm was across the room planted between the loveseat and Lazy Boy. One eye was hanging out of its socket and was squished. His other eye was on his very classy glass coffee table also squished.

There was a bloody chainsaw, which obviously must have been the murder weapon with the amount of human flesh ground on it. I could see chips of his bone stuck in the teeth of the chainsaw.

I walked back out and looked at Harold who was trying to hold his breath as long as he could.

"The chainsaw was definitely the murder weapon. Now I see why you said it must have been a hate crime, but it's not. I speak from experience..." I trailed off as I started to think of the burn again.

It dawned on Harold, "This is the same as when your family's murder right?"

"Yes," was my short staccato reply. Harold hugged me trying to help the best he could.