Passive Bloodstains 소설 & 이야기

Although it was very fast, the good thing was that it was very pure and did not contain too many impurities. Therefore, Samuel came up with a plan. After he crossed the stream, he would inevitably leave footprints and water stains on his body with the Tao Tie of Evil when they went ashore. And these water stains were the key clues to Samuel's "solving cases". According to normal practice, there would naturally be water stains beside their footprints, but it must have some fixed effect. If there were other people or things flowing from the stream to shore, once it could not completely match with their footprints, it would inevitably be different from the water stains of Samuel.

“The room has been abandoned.” I stepped closer. “Was there anything inside?” He hesitated. “A bloodstained cloak.” Silence settled over the chamber and I turned toward Peter, but he looked as though he had seen a ghost. The color had drained completely from his face, and sweat had begun gathering at his temples. Damon noticed it too and he suddenly reached for Peter’s wrist and pulled back the man’s sleeve. A fresh red mark was visible against his skin. My breath caught, it was ink , the same kind of ink I had seen on Lyra’s wrist.

Tobe finds a bottle of lemony dish soap under the sink, and squirts a little on the blood. She then dumps some of the water over it, creating a bubbly pool of reddish water. The two of us take brushes with bristles from the kitchen, and start to scrub the blood stain from the wooden porch. It's had a little bit to settle in, and the stain doesn't want to clear away.

She stopped with it half crumpled in her fist. The bloodstain on the fabric was smaller than it should have been. Not smeared. Not dried and flaking the way blood does when it's simply left to sit. Taken. A careful, deliberate patch of cloth, cut clean and missing, right from the center of the stain, as if someone had sliced away exactly what they needed and folded the rest back to look untouched.

A leather case sat open on the counter, the latches scuffed in a way that said they’d been opened by hands that didn’t use lotion. Jack crouched. The bath had been drained, but heat had lacquered a faint ring to the porcelain, a gold rim around absence. On the far tile, where steam had run and re-collected, a perfect oval of clarity cut the mist—the size and shape of a face that had leaned too close. “Breath,” Jack murmured. “Or a visor,” Pauly countered, fishing out a strip of microfleece fibre with tweezers. “Prints wiped. The wipes left themselves behind—blend’s not retail. Bagging.”

He pulled out stacks of medical documents and legal claims I had trouble wrapping my head around. “White tuff of hair, unidentifiable,” he read aloud, holding a crime scene investigative report to the light. “Considerable amount of blood in the grass, traceable in the soil samples collected as well. All blood connected to that of Helen in Fiery Cross pack.” “What? How could that be?” I gasped, pulling for the photos of the blood that did indeed cover the grass and the tree nearby.

"Am sorry, I thought you must be tired, I didn't want to disturb you" "It's okay, make sure to wake me up next time or run to me when you seek comfort," Damien told her and She smiled, answering with an mn but suddenly, She felt something wet and warm beneath her hand. Confused, She opened her eyes and stared at her palm, her eyes went wide as She saw it was covered in blood. "You are bleeding!" She immediately voiced out without thinking, putting out from his embrace. Damien's eyes went to his arm, to find his shirt soaked in his blood. "Shit!" He cursed, immediately getting out of bed and running towards the bathroom.

In less than a minute, the place was crowded with employees of the company; some of them were trying to help the dead man, while others were trying to figure out the cost of his death. "How can this be possible? He has lost a lot of blood; there is literally no blood in his body, but there isn’t any blood on the floor. Only the bloodstains on his shirt are an evidentiary sign of blood. How can his shirt absorb so much blood?" a security guard said. Mr. Abel's body was moved to the floor by security personnel.

The perfect front for a body dump spot. Jackson stoops down and probes his finger into a dark substance on the ground, examining it. He turns pale and heaves. My heart stops again. I immediately know. It’s blood. Everybody circles the small pool of dense black-red liquid drained into the dirt. Please let it not be their blood. Please, please, please. A blood trail leaves a distinct route to the small room as if something bloody was dragged through the dirt. It’s like deja vu ― almost the same pattern as the one from years ago, in our hallway.

Blood. Dread settled over me like a heavy shroud. The once serene garden now bore the threatening mark of violence. I knelt down, scrutinizing the crimson stain on the ground. Fear coiled in my stomach, and the silence of the garden seemed to echo with the ominous weight of the unknown. Zoey's disappearance had already been a challenging situation, but the presence of blood escalated the situation to a new level of urgency. Every worst-case scenario raced through my mind. I couldn't lose her. Not after all she had been through.