Chapter Text
There's a body on the table.
It's a male; dark ebony hair, muscular arms, and a broad chest. No breaths enter or leave his lungs; he remains there, lifeless, with a chest as still as the table he lays on. His eyes are closed, arms at his sides, dog tag dangling off the edge of the table.
A slash runs across the front of his throat, along both wrists, behind both knees. The hair on his body is slick, soaked with the crimson liquid so thick it looks black under the watchful gaze of night. It stains the wood of the table as it drains, still lukewarm, and begins to form puddles at the foot of each leg.
The man wipes his hands together, takes one more look at his victim, and closes the door of his bedroom behind him.