Vanessa methodically pieced together the remains of her son, Elijah. Each fragment of his broken body matched perfectly, the jagged edges of his wounds telling the harrowing story of his final moments.
As she worked, her hands steady, but her heart shattered, and she closed her eyes. She could no longer deny it, no matter how much she wanted to.
Her son was gone. Forever.
“Elijah…” her voice broke, trembling with the weight of unsaid words, “please don’t hate me. I never meant for this to happen. I was just scared. I didn’t want you to go to the academy because I feared something like this would happen to you.”
Tears streamed down her face, but her hands never stopped.
“I didn’t know… I didn’t realize that my fear would end up hurting you instead. I’m sorry, Elijah. I’m so sorry…”
Her whispers soon gave way to uncontrollable sobs as she leaned against the cold steel of the autopsy table. Her cries filled the room, raw and unrestrained, carrying the anguish of a mother who had lost everything.
Hovering above, I could only watch, my chest heavy with guilt. I wanted to tell her it wasn’t her fault, that I was the one to blame.
And yet, I couldn’t help but feel a pang of something bittersweet–realizing for the first time that she did love me, even if her love had always been veiled in sternness and distance.
Outside the room, officers bustled by, but no one dared to look in. Everyone in Bayport PD knew what was happening inside.
The indomitable Dr. Vanessa Sterling–Hartman, who had endured the loss of her husband
years ago, was now facing the unimaginable–losing her only son.
Finally, after what felt like hours, she emerged from the autopsy room. Her face was pale, her eyes swollen and red, but her voice was steady as she addressed the gathered officers.
“The cuts on his neck match the murder weapon. Based on the depth and irregularity, at least three individuals participated in the dismemberment.
“On his right hand, traces of fabric were found on the broken bones of his ring and pinky fingers. Send it for comparison–if it matches, we’ll have another piece of evidence.”
She spoke with the precision and clarity of the professional she was, even as grief visibly weighed her down.
The rookie forensic assistant hastily scribbled notes, nodding in silent respect. The report was immediately sent to Detective Boone, who was armed with irrefutable evidence
to comer the suspects.
What followed was a brutal game of shifting blame.
Faced with undeniable proof, the five suspects began turning on one another. They fought over who was most responsible, hoping to reduce their punishments.
The truth emerged piece by piece:
The attack had been premeditated. After brutally beating me in the alley, they dragged my unconscious body to an abandoned warehouse. There, they planned to “teach me a
lesson.”
But when I regained consciousness, instead of begging for mercy, I screamed at them, cursing their cowardice. My defiance only fueled their rage.
They had started with my fingers, snapping them one by one. Then, they moved on to my arms and legs. By the time they were done, even my ribs had been shattered.
When their actions were read aloud, even Detective Boone, a veteran of countless violent cases, was visibly shaken.
“You’re monsters,” he spat. “Not human. Monsters!”
The suspects, however, remained smug.
Vanessa refused to leave the room, insisting on staying despite her visibly deteriorating state. Her face was ashen, and her hands trembled, but she stood firm as the details of her
son’s torture were laid bare.
Seeing her reaction, the suspects grinned, enjoying her pain.
“Man, your mom’s not so tough now, huh?” one of them sneered.
“Her son was tougher than she is. He didn’t make a sound when we knocked his teeth
out. Too bad he died before we could have fun with him!”
Another laughed.
“Yeah, a real shame. Could’ve dragged it out longer.”
Their laughter echoed in the room, each chuckle a dagger aimed at Vanessa’s heart.
The officers bristled with rage, but there was nothing they could do.
“Keep laughing,” Boone growled. “It’s not going to save you.”
The leader of the group leaned back casually, smirking.
“You cops think you’re so high and mighty. You can’t touch us. You know the law as well
as we do. No beatdowns, no threats. Go ahead, try me. I’ll have a lawyer here in five minutes. And if we go down, we’re taking some of you with us.”
Vanessa, who had been silent until then, finally spoke, her voice icy and calm.
“They can’t touch you,” she said, stepping forward. “But I can.”
The room fell silent.
Every officer turned to look at her, startled by the sudden steel in her voice.
The suspects‘ grins faltered, confusion flickering across their faces.
22:25 Thu, Mar 13 A
8161
Finally, after what felt like hours, she emerged from the autopsy room. Her face was pale, her eyes swollen and red, but her voice was steady as she addressed the gathered officers.
“The cuts on his neck match the murder weapon. Based on the depth and irregularity, at least three individuals participated in the dismemberment.
“On his right hand, traces of fabric were found on the broken bones of his ring and pinky fingers. Send it for comparison–if it matches, we’ll have another piece of evidence.”
She spoke with the precision and clarity of the professional she was, even as grief visibly weighed her down.”
The rookie forensic assistant hastily scribbled notes, nodding in silent respect. The report was immediately sent to Detective Boone, who was armed with irrefutable evidence
to corner the suspects.
What followed was a brutal game of shifting blame.
Faced with undeniable proof, the five suspects began turning on one another. They fought over who was most responsible, hoping to reduce their punishments.
The truth emerged piece by piece:
The attack had been premeditated. After brutally beating me in the alley, they dragged my unconscious body to an abandoned warehouse. There, they planned to “teach me a
lesson.”
But when I regained consciousness, instead of begging for mercy, I screamed at them, cursing their cowardice. My defiance only fueled their rage.
They had started with my fingers, snapping them one by one. Then, they moved on to my
arms and legs. By the time they were done, even my ribs had been shattered.
When their actions were read aloud, even Detective Boone, a veteran of countless violent
cases, was visibly shaken.
“You’re monsters,” he spat. “Not human. Monsters!”
The suspects, however, remained smug.
%81%
Vanessa refused to leave the room, insisting on staying despite her visibly deteriorating state. Her face was ashen, and her hands trembled, but she stood firm as the details of her son’s torture were laid bare.
Seeing her reaction, the suspects grinned, enjoying her pain.
“Man, your mom’s not so tough now, huh?” one of them sneered.
“Her son was tougher than she is. He didn’t make a sound when we knocked his teeth out. Too bad he died before we could have fun with him!”
Another laughed.
“Yeah, a real shame. Could’ve dragged it out longer.”
Their laughter echoed in the room, each chuckle a dagger aimed at Vanessa’s heart.
The officers bristled with rage, but there was nothing they could do.
“Keep laughing,” Boone growled. “It’s not going to save you.”
The leader of the group leaned back casually, smirking.
“You cops think you’re so high and mighty. You can’t touch us. You know the law as well as we do. No beatdowns, no threats. Go ahead, try me. I’ll have a lawyer here in five minutes. And if we go down, we’re taking some of you with us.”
Vanessa, who had been silent until then, finally spoke, her voice icy and calm.
“They can’t touch you,” she said, stepping forward. “But I can.”
The room fell silent.
Every officer turned to look at her, startled by the sudden steel in her voice.
The suspects‘ grins faltered, confusion flickering across their faces.
As she fixed her gaze on them, Vanessa’s eyes burned with a quiet, lethal intensity.
“You think you’ve won?” she said softly, almost to herself. “You haven’t met me yet.”
18
