Hey there you guys.
Just dropping by with another chapter.
I'm wayyy tired, so I haven't got much to say.
But, things are about to get complicated.

Chapter Seventeen

The stench of burning flesh is not something I had ever anticipated entering my nostrils, nor had I ever wondered what the experience would have been like if confronted with it. But as I stood in the living room of 63 Chester Road, home to Mrs Patricia Anne Poynter, recently deceased, I found the event unavoidable.

Jessi had pointedly refused to enter the house again, and so had remained outside in the comfort of Danny and Natalie. The shock of what had taken place here had begun to set in, and the vomit on the driveway proved that further. She'd asked for us to collect only two things in particular. A photograph on her cabinet, and a necklace that hung from it. I wish I'd been sent to retrieve those instead of Sheena.

Tom was the first to take a step forward, kneeling down as close as he could to the burnt corpse before us. He held his palm to his face, covering his nose as his eyes squinted, slits in his face. The heat from the dead flesh singed his own on his fingertips as he touched it, checking the body over with care, taking in every intricate detail.

"Sheena shouldn't have burnt her until I'd searched her." He remarked. "This makes it a lot harder considering there's barely anything left of her."

This was true enough. In fact, I wouldn't have known the body infront of me was Patricia if it wasn't for the blonde strands of hair that the fire had bizarrely missed on her head. There was nothing to distinguish her. The flames had licked everything away.

"Is the branding there?" Dougie asked monotonously. Tom looked up at him blankly, staring. "The brand. All hunters have them. A small knife shape on the back of the neck."

There was a sickening crunch of bone, and the squelching of fluids moving as Tom rolled the body over on to one side. He let go, prising cloth from the back of Patricia's neck. Dougie groaned, the branding untouched by flames stood out clearer than anything else on her. He moved back before turning to the door.

"I don't need to see anything else." He murmered, leaving the room without another word, footsteps on the staircase being the only hint as to where he'd gone. I made my excuses quickly and quietly before following him. His bedroom had remained empty. I turned, the door at the end of the corridor was open. A room I had never seen the inside of until now.

"Doug?" I called out.

"In here." Came the call back. In to the mystery room we go. "There's more of us."

"What do you mean, more of us?" I made my way down the hallway, closing the door to the room behind me before I had even taken it all in. Wooden panels ran along the walls, the same for the ceiling. Well, I felt like I was in a gift box. How very claustrophobic, I must say. Dougie was sat at the large desk that was central in the room, hunched over papers, the computer screen blaring out the only light in the room. "I haven't been in here before."

"No, neither have I." he stated. "This is… Was.. Patricia's work room. She wasn't just your social worker, Sam. There's two files here for kids at the moment." He handed me two card folders before clicking on the mouse a few times and tapping at the keyboard. I sat on the floor beside his chair, opening the first folder. I sighed and handed it back up to Dougie.

"She's a lost cause." I stated. He looked at me puzzled. I tapped my finger on one key word. 'Deceased'. The twelve year old girl had been starved of blood whilst in hospital. Need I say more? Patricia had done nothing to intervene in this case, but she had done so with me. Why? I was just like anyone else, wasn't I?

I pulled open the remaining file, a little alarmed at what I saw. I snapped it shut immediately, causing Dougie to look at me again. He frowned a little and reached for the file in my hands. I pulled away hastily and scrambled to my feet.

"Empty." I shrugged. "Going to the bathroom."

"With the empty file?" he raised an eyebrow at me as I shuffled to the door.

"Erm.. No.. I'm going to bin the file first." I gabbled before making a quick exit.

It was times like these I really appreciated the locks on bathroom doors. I was highly aware of the fact that Dougie had followed me and was standing on the other side of the door.

"What's in the file?" He knocked lightly.

"You don't want to know." Was my answer as I pulled out the papers again, my heart thudding painfully hard in my chest. There was no name attached to this child, in fact, this one wasn't even born yet. There was a date of birth printed ready. Twenty First Of March 2008. The date today was the seventh of may 2007. The information I had trouble getting my head around?

'Mother: Claire Judd

Father: Dougie Poynter'

One is somewhat confused.