You Need Me [Leon x Emily]

[Emily Whierd]

It had been marvelous. Truly her finest work. The look of horror, pain and shame was permanently etched on the woman's face. Such bright blue eyes locked open but not even a glimmer of life burned within them.

"Who are you!? How did you-Oh God! NO!"

Emily stood at the end of the bed, the blade in her right hand glossed in crimson. She unconsciously tapped the fine, well sharpened tip with her left index finger. Each tap of her finger sending a jolt through her spine as the sharp metal threatened to puncture her flesh.

"Please! Don't! I-I'll do anything! L-Lewis! Help me! AAAH!!!"

She'd been a fighter. Emily's brown eyes admired the way the woman's curly red hair cascaded around her face. The woman's skin was pale, almost as pale as Emily's was. Freckles gently dotting across her cheeks, a few along her collar bone and her forearms. A ginger woman of great beauty. A full bosom, once flawless, now matted in drying blood. Dozens of cuts, each meticulous, littered her breasts and collarbone. Her nipples had been removed and discarded on the pillow beside her.

"W-why are you doing th-YYYAAAAHH!"

Her flat stomach a canvas. Instead of a brush she used a blade. "She's just a whore" carved into her flesh in jagged, intentionally painful lines. Her pubis wasn't spared either. "Inferior" etched over her womb.

"Stop! Please! Oh God, it's too deep...it hurts! I'm begging you! Stop! I'll do anything!"

Her vagina was bruised, stretched. The dildo lay inches away from her gaped orifice, between her legs. Blood stained the sheets. The bleeding had only just stopped. The dildo was large, barbed. Emily had been sure to ruin her inside. Not just outside. Lewis didn't need this useless heap. She was an urchin. He worked all day, cleaning up the streets. Risking his life. What did this woman do? Spend his money. Lounge around the house. Paying her way by spreading her legs. She wasn't even smart enough to lock the door. Lewis needed someone on his level. Someone like Emily. Lewis just didn't know it yet. But with this wretch out of the picture...he'd realize it in due time.

Emily finally moved. Her own pale body was naked, clothing folded neatly on the dresser so they wouldn't get messy. Moving around the bed to stand beside the cadaver. She leaned down and looked directly into the lifeless eyes before her.

"He'll be happier with you gone. He'll forget all about you. He'll never forget me." She whispered. Her bloody left hand reached over to collect blood from the brutal gash across her throat. She'd make several returns for more 'paint' as she began to smear it across the mirror on the back side of the bedroom door.

'You'll thank me someday' was her message.

"I...I can't...please! No more! W-wait...no! Please! N-ACKghrgh!!!"

The stone faced, raven haired woman cleaned her hands and knife in the bathroom sink, taking time to tidy up the bathroom afterwards. It was a shame he'd have to clean up this mess but...he'd get over it soon enough. He'd come for her and thank her.

Emily got dressed, collected her bag and tucked her blade into it. She made sure to lock the door on her way out. What kind of lunatic didn't lock their doors in this crazy city?

 

[Leon]

The day had been long and the hours seemed never ending, one minute dragging on to the next. He had every intention of trying to get off earlier today in order to have some alone time with his wife. Lewis didn't hate his job, it was just that it was a job, something that he once had a passion for but at this point, it was to keep food on the table and afford the better things, for his wife and hopefully, in the future, his own child.

These were all things that he wanted for himself and if that meant that he needed to buckle down and get the job done, then he wasn't about to complain out loud, a bit of whisky would take the edge off and he would just be able to relax. He let the car door close as he would pull down on the neck of his tie, finally feeling that he could breath. He came to the door and went to turn it but found it locked. She usually never locked the door when she was home. It was a bit of an annoyance now as he had to dig around for his keys to unlock the door, now of all times.

The door would open as he would take off his jacket, throwing it on the back of the couch, tossing the keys on a nearby stand by the door. The lights were off and there was just something...wrong. He would stare around, as if trying to find something, anything to tell him otherwise. "Honey? Are you there?" He would take a few steps, looking at any place she would be. Something was wrong.

Not on the couch, not the recliner, the kitchen was just as empty and he would have heard her if she was outside. The only place she could be at this point was the bedroom. "Honey... you okay?" Still, no reply. She was usually never this quiet, maybe she had gone out. His hand would come to the bedroom door handle. The door always was a bit ajar, closing of its own accord with the tilt of the houses foundation.

Something was wrong. Something was wrong. Everything in him told him that. His hand didn't want to open the door but he forced it too. Something was wrong. Lewis would push it open, once more he called. "Honey..." As the door opened, he saw a small bit of blood at the front of the door. Wrong. The smell of iron came to his nose, full and thick. He would reach over, letting his fingers find the light switch and flicking it on.

It was wrong. The gruesome scene that was spread out over the bed, his body froze, his mind shutting off as if a moment would cause the entire scene to return to a normal woman, laying there waiting for him to take her. But it didn't happen. Her eyes locked in fearful shock, piercing his own in that lifeless manner. He would take a step forward, and then another. As he reached the baseboard of the bed, his feet were slick in the blood, her blood.

His mouth would open but no words would come from them, his eyes becoming moist with tears but they never fell. He would crawl into the bed, his hands trying to touch her but every time they came close, he knew that if he touched her and she wouldn't react and it would become real. He continued to look her body over, wanting nothing to do with the sadistic nature in which the lines that were created on her flesh. His hand would finally make it to the side of her cheek. She wasn't even fully cold yet, it pushed him over the edge.

A light noise broke through his lips, almost a whimper. Then, another, slightly louder but the next, was a scream of frustration. This wasn't supposed to happen. Not to him. Not to her. His arms would wrap around his lifeless love, pulling her to his chest, the blood soaking through his shirt, he could feel it against his chest now. He would stroke her hair as a tear began to roll down a cheek. The creak of the door would be like a call from the pitch black hole he was falling into. His head would pull itself from her own to turn as the door would slowly close as it had done night and night before but this time, it was his torment that was locking him in.

'You'll thank me someday'. Written on a mirror that showed the blood stained man holding his dead love. A nightmare made real. The door would snap close and Lewis would stand there in front of another door, hand on the handle. Something was wrong. He had associated the feeling now. It gave him purpose instead of fear. It was his own to command. It was his fire that he would use to burn the world down in order to find this monster. He would turn the handle to come upon another crime scene.

 

[Emily Whierd]

The day had been long and the hours seemed never ending, one minute dragging on to the next. He had every intention of trying to get off earlier today in order to have some alone time with his wife. Lewis didn't hate his job, it was just that it was a job, something that he once had a passion for but at this point, it was to keep food on the table and afford the better things, for his wife and hopefully, in the future, his own child.

These were all things that he wanted for himself and if that meant that he needed to buckle down and get the job done, then he wasn't about to complain out loud, a bit of whisky would take the edge off and he would just be able to relax. He let the car door close as he would pull down on the neck of his tie, finally feeling that he could breath. He came to the door and went to turn it but found it locked. She usually never locked the door when she was home. It was a bit of an annoyance now as he had to dig around for his keys to unlock the door, now of all times.

The door would open as he would take off his jacket, throwing it on the back of the couch, tossing the keys on a nearby stand by the door. The lights were off and there was just something...wrong. He would stare around, as if trying to find something, anything to tell him otherwise. "Honey? Are you there?" He would take a few steps, looking at any place she would be. Something was wrong.

Not on the couch, not the recliner, the kitchen was just as empty and he would have heard her if she was outside. The only place she could be at this point was the bedroom. "Honey... you okay?" Still, no reply. She was usually never this quiet, maybe she had gone out. His hand would come to the bedroom door handle. The door always was a bit ajar, closing of its own accord with the tilt of the houses foundation.

Something was wrong. Something was wrong. Everything in him told him that. His hand didn't want to open the door but he forced it too. Something was wrong. Lewis would push it open, once more he called. "Honey..." As the door opened, he saw a small bit of blood at the front of the door. Wrong. The smell of iron came to his nose, full and thick. He would reach over, letting his fingers find the light switch and flicking it on.

It was wrong. The gruesome scene that was spread out over the bed, his body froze, his mind shutting off as if a moment would cause the entire scene to return to a normal woman, laying there waiting for him to take her. But it didn't happen. Her eyes locked in fearful shock, piercing his own in that lifeless manner. He would take a step forward, and then another. As he reached the baseboard of the bed, his feet were slick in the blood, her blood.

His mouth would open but no words would come from them, his eyes becoming moist with tears but they never fell. He would crawl into the bed, his hands trying to touch her but every time they came close, he knew that if he touched her and she wouldn't react and it would become real. He continued to look her body over, wanting nothing to do with the sadistic nature in which the lines that were created on her flesh. His hand would finally make it to the side of her cheek. She wasn't even fully cold yet, it pushed him over the edge.

A light noise broke through his lips, almost a whimper. Then, another, slightly louder but the next, was a scream of frustration. This wasn't supposed to happen. Not to him. Not to her. His arms would wrap around his lifeless love, pulling her to his chest, the blood soaking through his shirt, he could feel it against his chest now. He would stroke her hair as a tear began to roll down a cheek. The creak of the door would be like a call from the pitch black hole he was falling into. His head would pull itself from her own to turn as the door would slowly close as it had done night and night before but this time, it was his torment that was locking him in.

'You'll thank me someday'. Written on a mirror that showed the blood stained man holding his dead love. A nightmare made real. The door would snap close and Lewis would stand there in front of another door, hand on the handle. Something was wrong. He had associated the feeling now. It gave him purpose instead of fear. It was his own to command. It was his fire that he would use to burn the world down in order to find this monster. He would turn the handle to come upon another crime scene.

The room was already full of crime scene techs. Taking photos and doing their best to gather and preserve what little evidence was there. A 50 something officer slowly turned when Lewis entered the room, a grim expression permeating his features. It said all that needed to be said. It was her again.

"Black male. Age 34. ID found in his wallet in his pants says his name is Bryant Wilco." he ran a hand through his grey mane of hair. Brown eyes peeled away from Lewis to look back over at the body. "Bartender at The Deep. A weirdo club downtown. All sorts of strange young folk like to drink and party there." Officer Frank Morris' lips twitched in a disapproving scowl.

The bed was a mess yet everything else, as per usual, abnormally clean. This killer was more than capable of containing her crime scene, which would seem to make it all the easier to find evidence however no identifying evidence could ever be found.

Bryant's body was laid on the on bed, face down. Like so many of the others, his eyes were wide open in a perpetual look of pain and terror. The dark skin of his back slashed. Precise, painful but none of them lethal. Blood now thick, coagulated. He was, however, cocked to the side a little at the waist. "Died with his pole up." Frank explained. "Embarrassing way to go."

"Could have been involuntary." A voice rang out. Popping up from the other side of the bed, having been crouched and out of sigh, a raven haired young woman rose to her feet. Her lengthy hair tied back into a single pony tail, her CSI ball cap a size too big. Her skin was described by many to be unhealthily pale. Too much time in the lab was often their diagnosis. She stood out even more being in a dark blue department issued jumper. Emily peered up at Frank and Lewis, gesturing with a gloved hand at the man's out of sight genitals which she had been inspecting. "More emotions than arousal can cause an erection. It could have also been chemically induced which seems more likely. I found a needle mark at the base of his neck. I'll know more once I can run blood tests." She reported in her even, factual tone.

"Our new M.E." Frank whispered out of the corner of his mouth to Lewis. "Just graduated. Weird one for sure."

"Emily Whierd." She stated flatly "You must be Lewis. Hear you've been chasing this one for a while." Emily began to lower back down into a squat position beside the body, pulling a liver thermometer out of her bag. "Killer made a mistake striking in our district. Killer has to try to fool me."

"This is your fourth case, Wheird. Calm down." Frank muttered

 

[Leon]

Lewis would stand in just the spot he had in his own room when he came across his own hell which seemed so long ago. It gave him a view of the room, putting together a puzzle from the perfect vantage point. Frank would chime in while Lewis continued to let his eyes draw over the room, trying to find something that might elude others. The way the killer took their time, it was as if they knew they'd have all the time in the world, that no one would interrupt their sick game.

The circle was closing in but the net just wasn't wide enough to pin point any concrete evidence that they might be able to use. The only real information was that it was either a woman or a small man, enough to either let the victims guard down or small enough to sneak in without leaving so much as a hair behind.

Lewis would start walking to the side of the bed, crouching down to look at the mans face. The all to familiar eyes that would be placed next to all the others he had seen. "It's only embarrassing if you're alive to feel that way Officer Morris. That's the difference, we gotta live with these things, they are our problems now." Lewis would stand and make his way back to the officer's side.

It was then that another voice come to light from the other side of the bed speaking of the act being automatic. A dark haired woman would show herself to them, Lewis taking note of the cap and the fact that she worked with them. She looked white as a sheet, like she had not seen the a day of sun in her life. She spoke that the seemingly sexual arousal was drug induced. "True. The killer has been known to do perverse things with their victims and until we can get the reports back for sure, rule nothing out. Assume everything has a reason, it usually does."

Frank would make a note to give Lewis some information, be it a bit off putting information about the new medical examiner. The woman would than give her full name of her own accord. "I have." As she would speak of the foolishness of the killer, Lewis would look the body over. "Don't get ahead of yourself Miss Whierd. They haven't given us reason to ease up till now, I'm not going to do the same. So that means you don't get to either." Lewis would look around the room once more. "Anything missing? Any messages?"

 

[Emily Whierd]

Emily's lips flickered in the briefest of smiles as he warned her not to get overconfident. That the killer had given them no reason to ease up, so they shouldn't yield either. "Fair enough." She replied simply, jabbing the thermometer into the victim with an audible and sickening squelch. "Time of death...estimated 5 hours ago." the woman reported in her level tone. "As for messages." She leaned up and jabbed her gloved thumb towards the bathroom. "They just finished taking photos."

On the bathroom mirror, like all the other scenes, was a message scrawled in blood. Apparently done with the finger but never leaving a usable print. The killer always certain to smear the end of the streaks to ruin any hope of a print. The messages varying in their tone. Questions. Outbursts. Confusion. Reaching out. This time wasn't much different. In streaked crimson it read "I don't understand. He died before I could. Can anyone help me understand."

The CSI's in the bathroom backed out, muttering to themselves. It was like some kind of riddle each time. The motive never really clear. If the killer even really HAD one. The evidence they came out of the bathroom with, bagged and tagged, didn't seem plentiful this time around either. A small bag with a hair but likely the victims. Finger prints...again, likely the victims.

"There's residue on his genitals." Emily reported after a moment. "I'll see if I can get any DNA. Might just be his. Looks like a condom was used. Killer took it with them though. Doesn't seem like they've found them anywhere. Though these gashes are interesting. The 'killing stroke' across his neck looks to have been done postmortem. The cut isn't as clean as the ones in prior incidents. Perhaps the killer lost control when the victim died before they were finished."

 

[Leon]

Lewis would watch as the examiner would inject the device into the body for all to hear and a few moments later, would give the time of his death to be around five or so hours ago. He would look at the poor soul once more before he was directed toward the bathroom. Taking his leave of the scene of the crime and passing the investigators would pass him, Lewis turning to get past them and coming to stop in front of the mirror. Staring at himself covered in bloody words once more.

He would read the words over and over in his head, his lips moving to motion the words but no sound escaping them. It was as if he was trying to put them to memory in every way he could, that if he read it over enough then an answer would show itself to him and him alone. "Understand. I just need to understand." His words were cryptic, sounding like he was speaking to this monster or he could have been speaking of himself.

He would move closer to the mirror, letting a finger raise up and mirror the motion of the blood stroke, like he was making the marks himself. Lewis would stop at the end, his hand forming a well packed fist and if it wasn't for the crime scene, he might have struck the mirror but held himself in check. He would leave the bathroom to the sound of Emily speaking of there being some remnants on the victim and that a condom was used.

The mention of something being interesting would cause him to look at the body once more as she would go on to tell him when the fatal blow was done. Lewis would move over, taking a glove from his pocket and sliding it on with a snap, using his fingers to take a closer look at the wound. "Lost control... The criminal isn't used to things going off the rails. But what happened thing time that caused this particular scene to go wrong early." He would look the man over once more, the slices causing the picture of his own love to be brought to the surface. Lewis would release the man and pull the glove off and look around the room once more to keep himself distracted.

"They are trying to find something and not finding it is causing a lapse in judgement. We have to keep that in mind. They might go to ground or find another victim sooner than normal. Make sure we have cops stationed around the area and radio's are on for anything." He would walk toward the door and past the officer. "I need to get some air." He would turn to Frank and nod his head "Keep me inside the loop Officer." and then back toward Emily. "If you find anything, make sure it finds its way to my desk."

 

[Emily Whierd]

Frank could only nod, watching Lewis make his way out of the grisly room, looking to be a bit envious of his lack of requirement to be at the scene. Emily, on the other hand, watched him as he left, the faintest of smiles flickering at the corners of her lips. Though it vanished just as swiftly as it had appeared, lowering her eyes to the body in front of her once more. All he had to do was give her answers. Why couldn't any of these people give her answers? It took all her self control not to try to stab the corpse out of frustration. Even still...she had finally gotten this close to him. The victim wasn't completely useless in the end.

Within the hour, Emily was back at the precinct, down in the morgue. The body on the examination table, chest currently cut open. One by one she had removed major organs to weigh and examine them as was per protocol. Blood samples were already being processed for toxins. The swab she'd taken from his groin was being run for DNA, not that it'd turn up anything but his own. It was an odd feeling...performing autopsies on her own handiwork. Kind of perfect. It allowed her time to critique herself by taking a second look at her work after she'd had some time to process and calm down. This was far from her best work. A shame Lewis had to see this one. She'd have to do better next time.

When she was finished, she stitched him back up, stripping her gloves off and dropping them into the little trash can at the foot of the table. Moving to her desk, she began to fill out the paperwork. Measurements of the cuts, cause of death and so on. At least as much as she could do until the results of the other tests came back. She had to force herself not to fill out the entire form automatically as she already knew everything. Had to play it by the books. It was risky...working with the police. Putting herself right into the doghouse. A single slip up and she could give herself away. It was fun. Real fun. The very wolf the herd was afraid of was lingering among them. Plain sight...

 

[Leon]

As Lewis made his way to the outside air, it felt like a release as the constant number of things that rushed through his mind seemed to escape into the air. The anger and frustration of letting a monster like that continue onward was always there but he felt they were close, that he was close. There were a few things he tended to let himself divulge in after visiting crime scenes. Most of them ended in heavy drinking, either in his apartment or a bar. He would reach into the inside of his jacket and pull out a flask, unscrewing the top and placing it to his lips quickly to take a short swig before re-tightening the lid. These murders were different and he would force himself to dwell on the atrocities, the crying of a psychopath. He had to cut the edge of but never would he let himself forget, every thing was there for a reason and he wouldn't loose himself so soon.

That would come later. For now, Lewis had found himself at his desk, stacks of boxes at the side, piles of papers and drawings of different suspects scattered off to the side while several scenes of various crimes would rest a top one another, each with different bodies but the larger picture seemingly wishing to push to the surface. Though, Lewis had an open folder with a sizable stack of papers, over half of them flipped over to show the progress he had made but the pen continued to scribble names and dates, signatures and just what information he had to pull from other scenes to connect to this one. It all felt like he had done this over and over, only few changes here and there but overall, it was the same shit just a different day.

Lewis would drop the pen as his body would lean back against the chair, hands covering his eyes as they closed. The coroner report being the only thing that seemed missing. The sight of the most recent body took over his view, seeing the cuts and the message. Then another message with a connected body. The dead kept talking but it was always hard to understand them, like something trying to speak to a deaf person. The majority of the precinct were starting to think their may be more than one killer involved with the sheer number of bodies that were starting to stack. No. He knew it was one monster under that bed and he needed to drag it out.

His eyes would open to still be in darkness, slivers of light coming through his fingers. He would let them drop down to his sides as he stared up at the lights above. No, it was never really all that bright as the vibrating sounds of the fluorescent light would always come to overpower the sounds of those talking around him, the beeping and slamming, arguing and crying. It was always just loud enough for him to zone himself into them.