This wasn't like her. Life for her had been clear. She knew what she was about. Her parents had raised her to be confident in her own abilities to make life good and rewarding. Now, something was happening beyond her control that could actually terminate her life, or so she thought. Out of her control was just not something she'd experienced.She began to maunder over the things she felt she still had to do in this life, the things she still wanted to do, the things she knew she must do. As these thoughts swept over her, almost in a chaotic frenzy, she grabbed onto one thought, recently important to her. Oh my God! I've never been made love to. I've never known a man. Here, now, my life could be ending, and I'm still a virgin. I've never experienced the joy of coupling with a man, a man I love, deeply. It's not fair! She protested. Tears welled up and began to slowly course down her nose, dripping on the blanket.Slowly, she began to gently sob, as the sense of grief overwhelmed her -. The crowd around the house was thick with everyone staring at the house in wonder. Gillford had officers canvassing the streets but no one admitted to knowing anything about the house nor who had been living there.Detective Feinstein could smell the scent on the air as she entered the building; it smelled like death. Well, death and some kind of antiseptic. She grabbed a handkerchief from her pocket and covered her nose and mouth. Julia knew that breathing through her mouth would help alleviate the smell but she worried about forgetting; getting a noseful of decaying meat wouldn't do any favors to her digestion.She was following the Sergeant when her eyes caught something on the hidden door. There was the barest hint of discoloration above the door handle. "Hey, Sarge? Look at this. Looks like there was something here. A lock, maybe." Good eye, rook," the Sergeant said appreciatively. "Snap a photo and get down here."She pulled the camera out of her pocket and snapped a few photos of.
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