Killing, whether being done by a man or observed, takes away one’s humanity. Killing another human being is akin to leaping off a tall building in the concrete jungle; it should not be taken lightly. When you see the spark go out in someone’s eyes, or look upon their broken and abandoned forms, it changes something in you. You become more animal than human, unable to see things in the same, happy light that you did before.
Detective Kilrain smoked his cigarette thoughtfully in the hallway of the dingy apartment complex. He snuffed the cigarette and the philisophical thoughts out on a nearby windowsill and opened the door to apartment 704. The latex gloves on his hands made a soft squeak as he turned the knob and shut the door behind him.
Kilrain looked at the spotless apartment and sighed. He scratched the stubble on his chin and made his way over to the crime scence. A probie shook his head in disgust and took pictures of the bloody floor; there was no body. Kilrain squatted down and took a closer look.