Standing alone in the apartment bedroom, in New York City. The apartment belongs to the city�s top police chief. The smell off blood and death from the victim�s bodies is sickening enough to make any man vomit. Looking around for more bodies, I begin to wonder what kind of person could ever do this. Whoever it was, they must�ve been mental or crazy. As I walk around in the apartment, I could 5 full bodies. There was a woman, about 39 years of age. A man, who was about 45. Two children. Both a boy and a girl, about 10 years old. Lastly, a small infant. The two adults, both were lying on their bed, with gun shot wounds to the chest. The man had more shots to the chest then the woman. The children, lying motionless on the families living room floor. The boy was lying in front of a television. The screen on the television was snowy. Almost like what happens when the cable goes out. The girl, laying on the couch, about 4 feet away from the boy, holding a portable phone, and with a bullet hole, right between her eyes. The sight was grotesque. I kept thinking to myself. �What kind of person could do such a thing?� Then I realized a cold-blooded killer. Then, I stumbled into the infant�s room. I couldn�t believe my eyes. The infant�s cradle, lying on the floor. A part of the wooden cradle, a long wooden handle was missing. I glance over, and I found the missing piece of the cradle. Stabbing in the infant�s back. Right through the child�s back, and through their chest. I felt this chill run through my veins, as I dropped to my knees. Tears slowly running down my face. I pull myself together, and stand up. I close my eyes and turn around, while drying the tears off my face off with my sleeve. BANG! I suddenly look up; thinking that someone was there. Luckily for me, there was no cold-hearted man. It was only the door slamming shut. I slowly open the door, turning around as I close it. I quietly shut the door.

Blood was splattered all over the room. Almost like some Satan worshipping ritual. I slowly begin to wonder why I had stumbled on this apartment. I quietly walk near a window and look out of it. The streets are dead. Almost like one of those ghost towns, from an old western. I hear faint talking. I turn around. No one is there. I look towards the window again, and I glance over a nearby vent. I put my ear close to the vent. I hear mumbling. Then screaming. Then a gunshot. Followed by a loud thump. I realize that it came from the room above this one. I quickly stick my hand into my jacket. Pulling out a pistol. I run towards to the door. I run into the hallway. Looking frantically for an elevator, or a stairway. Just something to get myself to the floor above. I run down the hallway, the very end is an elevator. I run so fast, that I have almost no time to stop. I press my hands against the cold steel door of the elevator. I press the little glowing button. The elevator doors slowly slide open. They suddenly get stuck. I press the button again and again. Yet, the doors will not slide open. Willingly though. I push the doors. No matter how hard I try, the door will not open. I turn around, looking for another option. I see a small door at the end of the hall. I run towards that door, getting larger and larger. I finally get to the door. A small sign on the door saying �STAIRS� indicates this is the way to go. I turn the cold doorknob. It will not fully turn. It must be locked. I kick the door with all my might. A second, a third, and a final fourth time that I kick. The door wildly swings open. Pistol in hand, I run up the stairs. The walls having cracks throughout the entire time I run. Finally I reach the door to the floor.

I slowly take in a deep breath. Realizing the thin line between life and death. I duck down and turn the doorknob. The door slowly opens. Open just enough that I could see anyone in the hall. No one is in sight. I fully open the door, and step out into the hall. I quietly tip toe along the floor, until I reach an open doorway. The door ripped from its hinges, lying on the floor. I peek my head into the room; no one is in there. The cream colored curtains from the far wall, ripped from the wall and lying on. China dishes shattered on the floor. Table broken into half, with a man lying in it. I slowly step into the room. Stepping on broken glass. I peek my head further into the room. I see a man, standing with his back towards me, gazing out the window. He is holding a gun, dressed all in black. I slowly step further into the cold room. I smell of death and blood, is still strong enough to make any person vomit.

�NYPD DROP YOUR WEAPON!� I yell.

The man quickly turns around; I pull the trigger several times. He pulls it just once. I slowly hear a crash through the window, as I fall backwards. I have been shot!