"…Peter, I'm gonna check on the others…see what we're dealing with," Harry said calmly, though I could still hear the tremor in his voice. He was just as shaken as I was.
I glanced at him while pressing the cloth harder against the boy's wound. My hands were slick with blood, but I nodded. Harry moved toward the far end of the room, where the commotion had likely started.
Turning to the janitor, I asked, "Has the ambulance arrived yet?"
He stammered, then hurried to the doorway. "…I-I can hear the sirens," he said at last, his voice trembling with fear.
My grip tightened, forcing pressure against the wound. The boy's face was pale, his lips barely moving, breath shallow.
'Hang on, kid. Help is coming,' I thought, clinging to relief.
"…Hey, what's your name?" I asked, facing back at the janitor.
"…I-it's Joseph, officer," he answered, his voice easing slightly.
"Joseph, hold this cloth. Don't let the blood seep through."
Joseph nodded quickly and did as he was told.
I pushed myself up, feeling the weight in my shoulders, staring at the blood spreading across the concrete.
"…"
Slowly, I turned toward Harry to see what had happened. My eyes caught on a broken TV lying on the floor, speckled with blood. The sight made my stomach tighten.
I kept moving, step by step.
"Harry," I called, my voice breaking the silence. Outside, the weather had shifted…the rain had begun, and the sound of water drops tapping against the windows filled the room with a cold, steady rhythm.
"…Peter?" Harry answered as I approached. His silhouette came into view. "Come help me lift this up."
He bent down and grabbed one side of the fallen shelf. I understood immediately and took the other side. Together, we lifted it.
Underneath lay the blond teenager whose legs had been pinned earlier. He was unconscious.
"Any serious wounds?" I asked.
"Fortunately, nothing life-threatening like the other kid. But there's a red, swollen mark on the back of his head." Harry answered.
I exhaled slowly.
As officers, it was our job to gather information, piece together what happened, and prepare a clear report. But this scene… this one was messy. A boy was stabbed and bleeding out on the floor. And another boy with a head injury was pinned under a shelf. A girl slumped against a box.
"…And the girl?" I asked, remembering the third victim.
Harry's eyes flicked toward her. "Her vitals are stable. No dangerous wounds or bruises." He paused, then added quietly, "She was drugged. And probably dragged here against her will."
My eyes darted between the three of them.
We still hadn't found the suspect. No attacker. No weapon besides the knife in the boy's side, and that TV with some blood speckles. Nothing explained how all this unfolded.
My gaze landed on the blond teenager…tight sweater, lean build, clearly strong. If he had stepped in to stop something, he wouldn't have ended up pinned like this.
I looked back at the stabbed kid. Skinnier frame. No way he had the strength to drag a girl here or overpower someone like the blond one.
'So, for now… the blond kid is the most likely suspect,' I thought grimly.
It wasn't that the other two were cleared…they were just too injured to question. We'd talk to them when they woke up. For now, we had to assume the blond one was the safest lead. He'd go to the hospital, too, but we'd keep an eye on him.
…Wheee-whoooo! …Wheeee-wooo!
The sirens grew louder. The ambulance had finally arrived at the front of the school.
I let out a long breath. "At last," I muttered, looking at Harry. "Let's tidy this up before they get here."
...
"…Peter, stop standing there like a freak. Come and sit down."
Harry said, seated beside me, blowing out smoke.
I was leaning against the wall of the hospital corridor, one cigarette in hand. After the ambulances and inspectors arrived, they ordered us to stay put, stationed at the hospital until the victims woke up.
Doctors and nurses moved in and out, but our job was clear: keep watch.
An hour passed. Maybe more.
Medical examinations. Doctors talking. Paperwork piling up.
I brought the cigarette to my lips and inhaled, the smoke filling my lungs.
We still didn't know their names. No addresses. No relatives to call. No parents notified.
They were probably worried sick.
I exhaled slowly.
'…And no one's even called the school looking for them. Poor kids.'
"…You know," Harry said from the row of chairs, "you didn't utter a single word when we left."
His tone was mocking…but the concern was there.
I turned toward him, taking another drag.
"…You know me, Harry. I can't just sit and wait. Standing beats doing nothing."
I blew out smoke.
Harry flicked his cigarette into the bin and leaned back, hands behind his head, grinning.
"…Yeah. That impatience of yours is exactly why your stamina's short," he said. "Can't even satisfy them."
"…"
"…"
"…Fuck you," I muttered, flicking my cigarette into the bin and walking toward the exit door, craving some fresh air.
"Where are you going? Oh, c'mon, I was just joking with you," Harry called after me. I didn't turn around.
Tap-tap-tap…
The rain drummed against the hospital roof as I stepped outside, cold air biting at my skin.
I reached into my pocket and lit another cigarette.
Huff. Inhale.
Puff. Exhale.
I looked at it. "…Two pockets now with this one," I murmured.
'Smoke will really kill me someday.'
"…Peter," a static voice crackled through the walkie-talkie.
"Peter!" Harry's voice grew impatient, louder.
After exhaling, I pressed the button. "…Harry? Why are you shouting?"
"…The blond guy… the blond guy is dead."
Tap-tap-tap...
"…!?"
I dropped the cigarette and sprinted inside.
Doctors and nurses stared as I rushed past, wide-eyed.
'This case… this case won't let me sleep tonight.'
I reached the room and shoved the door open.
Slam! The sound echoed down the corridor.
"Huff… What the fuck?" I whispered.
What greeted me froze the breath in my lungs.