Branches Book

BRANCHES

Haley Katz

SWITCH

Author’s Note: The reader should know that this story contains descriptive details of graphic violence which may be triggering. The graphic violence is not meant to be disturbing for the sake of being shocking or to glorify violence against women. Instead, its purpose serves to develop Brewster as a character and to give the reader a greater understanding of the psychological compulsions and impulses that control Brewster’s mind. Her blood was still warm, spreading across the sheets when Private Detective William Brewster arrived at the scene. Laying before him was the work of a serial killer that had been rampaging through the town since August. Like all the rest, the victim was a woman. Her thin frame was slouched over the bed like a ragged doll, her throat cleanly slit open. Taking in the scene, Detective Brewster’s gaze drew to the sight of several severed arteries on display in her neck that were still oozing blood onto the hotel sheets. Disgusted, he let his eyes draw up, resting on her mouth. It was wide open, gaping at him, still forming an unfinished cry for help that fell on deaf ears. Brewster’s gaze moved to the woman’s hands. She had a small heart- shaped tattoo on her wrist. His eyes traveled down to find her stained red fingertips. She must have clawed her attacker and gotten his blood under her fingernails. He glanced away at the hotel room window, unable to take in the sight that laid before him any longer. Below the window, resting on the windowsill was a small pool of blood separate from the rest. Brewster’s face paled. It couldn’t have come from the victim. Brewster frantically searched around the hotel room, looking for that distinct shade of red to gleam up at him. Crossing the room, Brewster’s felt his boot suddenly become damp. He froze. After a few moments, Brewster slowly looked down. He had stepped into a small puddle of blood resting a few feet away from the bed. Lying next to this pool of blood was another, this one somewhat smaller and had begun to seep into the hotel room’s wooden floor. With this pool of blood, Brewster saw an opportunity to catch the serial killer red handed. Brewster crept towards the trail of blood with extreme caution, his hand resting on his holster. He slowly exited the hotel room, followed the trail down the hall, and entered the hotel’s unusually narrow stairway. Brewster took in a deep breath before placing his weight on the first step. With every

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