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The apartment reeked with the stale smell of death. It's the kind of stench that lingers at the back of your throat, waiting for the right time to choke you with its rotten fingers before slithering towards another victim. I hated it. And today it was the worst it had ever been.

I was lucky enough not to have seen the body. A dead woman was one thing, but the torment that had occurred within the confines of her apartment was enough to turn the stomach. By the time me and Logan arrived there, everyone else had long packed up and left; no more body, no more stories detailing each grizzly feature of the murder, and no more mention of the victim's eyes...God, I didn't even want to think about what happened to her eyes.

Me and Logan had been sent to make sure no evidence had been left undiscovered at the crime scene. We had to check through the victim's room (her name was Amaya, but it's better for the dead to leave their identity with loved ones instead of detectives, after all, sentimentality won't help in a murder investigation) as well as verify that nothing was in the elevator she had been seen on camera footage in.

"You go through the apartment, I'll go to the elevator and then come back once I'm done," came the gruff voice of my companion. I looked up from the floor.

Logan didn't seem like the type of person who worked well in a team. His superior height and build easily intimidated others, but it was his eyes that put people on edge. Those coal depths held the ferocity of a wolf exiled from its pack, and if anybody got on the wrong side of him, there was a silent promise of hell to pay. I had an unsaid agreement with him though – follow his orders, and we'd get along just fine.

The apartment door splintered as I pushed it open, destroying more of its already battered frame. I cautiously stepped out of the safety of the corridor, and gently placed one hand on the gun resting absently against my hip. I wasn't really intending on using it, but it was somehow comforting to know it was there.

Darkness. I switched on a light to banish the haunting unease growing in my mind. A pale glow illuminated the room, highlighting the filthy features of the tiny space the victim had lived in. How could anyone survive like this? Nothing but a tattered bed and decaying walls for company, with the lonely howling of the wind as the only sound to pierce the lingering silence. I shivered. It was so cold too, as if the warmth in my blood had abandoned me. I prayed that I wouldn't have to be there for long, but something niggling at the back of my mind told me I would be.

A distant boom suddenly echoed from the corridor, followed by a dull clanking of metal. I instinctively drew my gun and turned backwards, swinging the weapon to aim at the empty space of the doorway. Nothing came. I waited: one heartbeat, two heartbeats, before advancing into the corridor.

Luckily it was only emptiness that greeted me. I stopped briefly and allowed a calm focus to wash over my alert muscles, then started running to find Logan.

The elevator was completely out of power when I got to it, which didn't seem surprising in the run-down old building.