life is a flower. it suffers, it withers and falls to a gruesome death, just as the home of the family he was analyzing now— the rosen family.

massacred, butchered around the house like they have been chased down like an animal on a hunting season. he doesn't need to close his eyes to see it, to relive that moment to know. but he has to.

and when he does, he sees it.

that staring at him like it could really see him, right there in that memory. like the murderer is there, with him.