The painting was a flower painted with my blood, lifelike. If it weren’t for the unpleasant fishy smell, it would almost be a fine masterpiece.
My brother stared at the painting, completely secretive.
At the moment, the Recovery Division had the latest report, “Captain, we cleared out the bodies of two people overnight. We have made a rough guess at the moment, but one of the deceased is missing two pieces.”
After hearing that, Henry hurriedly took my brother to the studio. It stood to reason that the murderer would not dump the body alone for two separate pieces, unless those two pieces were as crucial a point in breaking the game as the skull.
My brother stared at the missing parts of the body in trance. Maybe the murderer did it intentionally, or maybe he wasn’t skilled enough in dismemberment, since the red birthmark on the bottom of my foot left a little edge.
The corpse had taken on a giant view and the birthmark was somewhat distorted, only vaguely visible as the red birthmarks that should be there.
The other missing piece was my wrist.
When I was a kid, I fell off a tree and got a cross scar on my hand.