THIS STORY CONTAINS VIOLENCE! VIEWER DISCRETION ADVISED!

                    
        “Special Agent Burt Romanes,” I said as I entered the apartment. It would seem like a normal room, but the faint, rotten smell said otherwise. Many a times have I seen the aftermath of things gone to seed. The brick walled room was decorated with practical wood furniture. Nothing special or out of place, except an overturned fridge in one corner of the room. I put on my gloves and went to examine it. Inside was the corpse of a young women, 20s at the least, with long, blonde hair.  I pulled out her license and saw her name, Miranda Iome. Before I could examine further, I heard the voice of a distressed women calling “Please! Let me in! That’s my daughter!”

I walked over and said “It’s ok. Let her in.” The women is cleared into the murder scene and like a switch being turned on, begins to sob uncontrollably. “I understand this is hard for you, but do you know anyone who’d want to harm your daughter?”

“I didn’t know anything about her personal life! She just left one day and no matter how many times I tried to speak to her, she just brushed me off!”

“Do you know anyone who might’ve been with her at the time of death?”

“Her brother Brandon, he lived by her next door in room 66. He left before she did. The two eventually met up. They were always so close…”

“Thank you ma’am,” I said as I went to the room.

I rapped my knuckles on the door. “NYPD, open the door.” I heard a faint gust of air within the room. I kicked the door down and found the window to be open, and no one to be found. I looked outside at the fire escape. A man, presumably the victim’s brother, climbing down it.

“NYPD, FREEZE!” I yelled.
He continued to depart from myself despite my command. I slid down the ladder instead of wasting time climbing down. As soon as I reached the ground, he continued to flee. What ensued was a chase between crowds of people and what seemed endless streets. Until finally, he stopped in an alleyway. How typical. The chasee doesn’t know where the hell he’s going.
“NYPD, hands in the air, behind your head where I can see them,” I ordered once more.
“Why the hell you chasing me?”
“I’m investigating the murder of your sister, Miranda Iome.”
“I don’t know anything!”
Before I could even reply, he pulled out a knife and ran at me.

                                                      ***
“What the hell were you thinking Burt?” my infuriated Chief of Police, Violet Romanes, asked.
“He pulled a knife on me, what the hell was I supposed to do?”

”That excuse is s*** and you know it. You've always used other ways to take out armed suspects and criminals without killing them. I don't know what's going on with you, but if it has to do with me becoming chief instead of yourself, get it together or get the hell off the case, understand?"

"Yes ma'am," I respectfully replied.

With all the f*** that went on today I decided cool off and call it a night.
                                                     ***
To keep the city life as close, yet far away as possible, I lived in a suburban community. My house was ranch style with a black painted exterior. Inside was just one hallway containing a few other rooms, and a main room containing the usual family room furniture. I opened the beer I picked up on the way home. The taste was cool and refreshing after the kind of day I've had. I slowly sat on my recliner and fell asleep. "Soon," I thought to myself.
                                                     ***
Ever since we were kids, Burt and I always wanted to follow in our father's footsteps. He may have been home late a lot, but the stories he told us were always representing how courageous he was. Even after he mysteriously died, that only made us want to memorialize him by becoming the man he was. We did, after many years of law school. We rose up through the ranks like no one had ever seen. Burt and I were always healthy competition for each other. Pushing one another to do the best we could at our job. Everything changed the day I became chief of NYPD instead of Burt. While Burt was excellent at his job, he was a bit of a loose cannon. I was calm and objective during cases. He became obsessed with how one of us finally bested the other. All this came to light when Burt appeared outside my house, a gun pointed at my head.

                                                      ***
"Burt what the hell are you doing?" Asked my sister.
I didn't bother replying. She'd only do her usual "talk peacefully out of a situation." I cocked the gun and fired. She kicked my feet out from under me and dodged the bullet. I tried to fire off another killing shot, but she was ready. Coming my way was a devastating right hook and left jab to the jaw which knocked the gun out of my hand.

"Burt, hands behind your head, please. Don't make me hurt you."

I reached for the gun and felt a sudden sharp pain in my chest. I fell down and saw my sister huddled over me, sobbing.

"You always were such a baby. See this smile!? Its the mark of a killer. I used the darn chief as a cover. You want a confession? Well, no. You wouldn't know, by now you will! I killed dad, Iome, and her brother! I hid dad's body after enjoying stabbing him multiple times. Iome was just to feed my bloodlust once more. Her brother was a liability, so I shot him and framed him by having him be in possession of a knife when you came. A knife I bought for such an inconvenience! You should've heard their screams! Excellent!"

I reached for the gun sprawled across the floor and shot her. I died with a smile on my face. A permanent mark on how I was able to enjoy the last moments of my life.