Drabble #3- Anger (St. Anger- Metallica)
Everywhere he looked, there was anger.
Anger splattered on the walls, shattered on the floor. Broken chair legs, ripped cushions, torn stuffed animals. Pictures and papers burned. Scarlet red pools on the floor.
Even the cat's life was cut short with anger.
He'd been through scenes like this too many times to have his breakfast make an unpleasantly acidic second appearance, like the rookie uniformed officer in the hall, or the lady next door who had made the grisly discovery. He'd seen anger like this too many times for it to be burned into his brain like a person seeing it for the first time.
But the anger...the anger never stopped seeping into his skin when he'd see how much of it was left behind. How much of it was taken out on the victim, a pretty girl, couldn't be more than twenty-five and mutilated almost beyond recognition on her bed. That made him angry. She had something to live for, hopes and dreams. Thoughts and feelings just like any other person. And in a snap, a stab of a silver blade, or pull of a trigger all that was gone.
His fists would involuntarily clench, and for a second his vision would go a hazy red, the same of the vision of the killer. But only for a second. He blinked, and the world would come back, crystal clear and almost calm, as he set about searching through the layers of anger for a clue to put the perpetrator to justice.