I opened the door slowly, kneeling down outside of the doorway.
My instincts were screaming at me to not touch the body, but rational reasoning overpowered my innate repulsion at going anywhere near the corpse.
'Even if my fingerprints on the body were discovered; I am a child, and as such, I can play it off as a kid finding their mother dead and rushing over to shake her awake.'
'I need to sell this act or I'm fucked. I know nothing about this woman, not her name or even my own date of birth; if I don't play the dumb traumatized child someone is eventually going to catch on.'
With this thought in mind, I stood up again and crept forwards.
The soles of my feet wetted as I stepped onto the thin layer of reddish water pooled around her body, all while I hugged the interior walls in an attempt at keeping as much space between us as possible.
My left hand slid down the dripping wall as I crouched down, directly above its head.
Once I was stable, I tentatively grabbed the woman's hair with both hands, tugging her head upwards. The motion was very stiff, harder to accomplish than I thought it was going to be; but I achieved it nonetheless.
The corpse's nearly severed neck allowed for far greater range of movement than was normal, her neck almost completely separated from her head as I pulled on it.
'Yes. Its definitely her, thank fuck. One less thing to worry about.'
My situation was now far less complicated, as I could pull the innocent son card when someone came over. The fact it wasn't a random person relieved me for this very reason, calming me down somewhat.
I carefully lowered the head back onto the floor, making sure I wouldn't damage the already destroyed neck by doing it too ruffly.
'Alright, that's the hard part finished. Now I need a proper gameplan.'
I turned around, stalking through the washroom entrance and back into the main room. The water sticking to both of my feet was wiped onto the fluffy carpet under me, drying them enough that I wouldn't bother to clean them further.
'Now. Whats her name? Because on second thought I really don't think having no idea what my mother's name is will help my case in any way.'
Glancing to my left, I noted the bright sun glaring heatedly through the window.
I bit my thumb's nail obsessively while my mind went into overdrive - a habit transferred over from my former life.
'Midday. I can't remember if it was night when I first woke up which means I could have easily slept through it without realising.'
After another second of thought I forsoke elaborating on this idea any further.
'Unimportant detail, what about clothes. She had to be wearing clothes at some point, where could they be?'
What I was hoping with this was some ID stashed in a pocket somewhere, or at the very least a nametag of some kind..
I moved back towards to the bed, ripping the crumpled blankets back so I could see if anything was hidden under the duvet covers.
Unsurprising to me, there was a pair of black tights along with some laced underwear laying on the matress.
I grabbed the pants, pulling them closer and fumbling for any pockets that could be on either side of them.
There was nothing.
"Back to square one. Fuck."
I cast them aside, not caring to replace the duvet on top of them as I didn't think it mattered in the long run.
Swiveling to the right, I looked past the back wall into the final unchecked corner of the room. It was unquestionably my next destination; a series of plush couches linined the outer wall with a small counter situated directly in front of them.
The entire area was lowered, a step down from the rest of the floor. There was a small blindspot between the counter and couches that I couldn't see from my current position, so I saunted over to check it out.
There was a bundle of clothes lying in the gap between counter and couch, just as I suspected there might be.
I grabbed the non-descript mess and slammed it onto the empty counter in front of me, before pulling the tangled mess of clothing apart into separate piles.
A second later, and it was orginzied: A laced bra (black) lay to the right; a pink sports bra lay in the middle; a very short skirt that couldn't have reached past the woman's knees lay behind that; and finally what I was looking for in the first place, a coat.
It was more similar to the carpet underneath my feet than a piece of clothing however, as while it had pockets; the fluffy layer of neon blue fur on the outside was an insult to my impeccable taste in fashion.
My now educated mind took a guess at her profession.
'She's a whore, its the only explanation I can think of. The eye catching attire was for a reason for a reason after all, surely no-one would wear this shit otherwise?'
'But these clothes were taken off on and ditched near the couch of all places, not outside of the shower which I found her in. How weird.'
I stroked the soft coat absent-mindedly, my fingers sliding along its sleek surface.
'Don't tell me… Foreplay on the couch? Had she brought someone home, a client maybe?'
I promptly discarded this idea upon thinking it, 'What kind of hooker brings a client back to her home while a young child is present. Not just because I expect that much of one but… She must have at least have some decency you know?'
'Unless… It was personal and not a client? No, that can't be it, I'm missing something here.'
My thoughts drifted back to the scarring on my front; could it be that my birth wasn't intended?
So it was abuse then, the scars may have been a byproduct of losing a customer due to my sudden appearence mid-fuck. Or maybe it was an angered client?
Playing the abused child would work out in my favour, it didn't matter whether my guess was correct or not.
"It all works out, that is if I can confirm without a doubt she is a sex worker."
I grabbed the coat again, now searching the pockets merticulously instead of getting side-tracked by its eccentric look.
There, the left one comtained a flip phone along with a business card.
The slogan read: Lizzies bar.
"Another correct deduction, aren't I on fire?"
I laughed, actually smiling. I knew this place, of course I did; anyone who'd played the game would know what kind of establishment this was.
Turning it over in my hands I saw the name 'Angela' along with a telephone number printed on the back.
'Bingo! The name's Angela huh. Now that I can work with.'
I reached for the phone with my injured hand, flipping it open immediately.
It wasn't even locked, seriously? Did people in this world not care about their privacy or was she just an outlier?
I scrolled through the rather extensive list of contacts, most of which had a yellow eurodollar emoji next to their names; my guess was that these were regulars.
I stopped, an unexpected find morphing my face into an even broader grin. Uncovered in this list of useless names was one I definitely did not expect in the slightest.
Judy Alvarez.
Now this was a brilliant find.
I selected her name and opened the chat, taking a dive into the personal dm's between the two.
They were friends, that much was clear, Judy even mentioning Evelyn one time and suggesting they hang out together.
What intruiged me most though was the most recent message from her; sent at 9:15pm last night.
[Hey Angel! How's it going? I could have sworn you said you were done with this biz last time we met, 'I don't want to do this any longer,' I think you said? Anyway the guy you took off with looked pretty nasty and I just wanted to make sure you were okay, because it sure looked like you didn't want to go with him.]
This confused me a bit, as if I remembered correctly, Lizzies bar had been reformed by a gang known as 'The Mox' in an attempt at protecting sex workers from violence while on the job.
If Judy saw her leave then I assume she was inside the bar at the time, so why didn't anyone stop to help her?
Another useless thought.
"It doesn't matter, I have the information needed. All I have to do now is act on it."
Just then, a sudden thought struck me; what if I called Judy over instead of the police? I might be able to get ingratiated with her and watch the main story unfold from a front row seat.
Yes, this was it.
This was my plan:
I would play the innocent child that discovered his mom was murdered, and open her phone to call someone for help. Instead of calling the NCPD, I would instead call Judy because her name was favourited in the contact listing.
Currently it wasn't for some reason, but that changed a second later as I tapped the favourite button next to her name, bringing it to the top of the list.
"Alright then, let's get started." I said, pressing the green voice-call button with my thumb.