Board Thread:Writer's Workshop/@comment-5733573-20180821191524

This is a story I've been working on. I don't want to say too much about the basic idea, because part of what I'd like to know is whether or not the references are clear. Also, I did only the most cursory research into police procedure, so I'm curious to know how terribly unrealistic things are here, or if it matters. Thanks in advance for your input!

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The call came in from a neighbor about the sounds coming from the old abandoned house on Pulcinella Street. She said it sounded like screaming and fighting, and maybe even a baby's cry. The police figured it was a family of crack addicts who snuck into the place, thinking they'd have themselves a cozy little room for the night. It was no big deal. This sort of thing happened all the time, so it was with this in mind that Officer Collins and his rookie set out alone to clear the place out.

Pulling up, the place looked dark and deserted, but they both knew this didn't necessarily mean it was. The officers walked in, flashlights drawn. Collins announced their presence in his characteristic baritone. "Police. You are trespassing on private property. Come out with your hands up."

The only response was the summer breeze, wafting in from the nearby beach. "Okay," said Collins spying the stairs in the corner of the silent room. "You take the upstairs, rookie.  I'll poke around down here."

Walter Bradley, the newest man on the force, agreed to the task he'd been given, trying his best to hide the nervousness he felt. Growing up, he would have been labeled an unlikely choice for a police officer. Everything seemed to scare him, not least of all the dark and creepy, abandoned houses that may or may not have other people in them. Still, a job on the force had been his dream ever since the age of six, and now here he was, inching his way up a creaky staircase in a dark and spooky house, reevaluating his life choices.

At the top of the stairs was a short hallway which presented Bradley with a few doors to choose from. The floorboards groaned beneath his step as he made his way toward the nearest room. There, he found the door slight ajar. The room beyond looked black and still, but something about it filled him with a sense of foreboding. Still, he was an officer of the law now, and his duty had to be done.

Bradly pushed the door open. It squealed with displeasure as it gave way. In the inky blackness, nothing in the room stood out as having a recognizable shape. With one sweep of his flashlight, however, that changed completely. On the floor lay a mattress and on the mattress lay the deathly still figure of a woman. A chill ran up Bradley's spin to see her condition and the stains and streaks the surrounded her. He rushed to the woman and knelt beside her to check for any signs of life. She was in terrible shape. There seemed to be a bruise of laceration on nearly every patch of exposed skin. Whatever had happened to her, it was nothing short of vicious.

As Bradley shown his flashlight directly over the woman's face, however, she began to stir. A moan escaped her swollen lips. Bradley felt a rush of adrenaline. He could possibly save this woman's life. "Ma'am," he said. "You're all right, ma'am. You've been through a lot, but I'm going to get you out of here."

"Ju... Ju...." The syllables tumbled clumsily from her battered mouth, never louder than just above a whisper.

"What are you saying, ma'am?" Bradley leaned in closer.

"Ju... Judy...."

"Judy?" Bradley asked. "Is that your name? Judy?"

"Ye... yes...."

"Okay, Judy," he said. "Just hold on. We'll get you to safety."

To his surprise, the woman kept going. "Ba... baby...."

"What?" Bradley asked. "Baby?"

"Ba... baby...." As Bradley looked on, the woman shakily raised her arm and gestured feebly to the corner of the room. Dread overtook Bradley. He knew he had to look, but there was no part of him that wanted to. Slowly, he dragged his light across the littered floor and over to the corner where it landed on a sight far more sickening them he ever could have imagined. There, mashed and beaten to a disgusting pulp was what might have been a human infant.

Bradley fought the bile that rose in this throat as he brought his attention back to the injured woman. This time, she was silent as her face seemed to reflect his horrified emotions. Her eyes seemed fixed on something just behind him.

Bradley whipped around. There was just enough time for him to get a good look at the man who had newly entered the room. His eyes were wide and wild. Smears of blood stained his nose and cheeks. In his hands, he carried a large piece of wood that looked like it had recently been used to cause unspeakable damage.

Before Bradley could even react, the wood came in hard against his head. He sank to the ground in a useless heap. The last thing he heard before the blackness set in was his assailant's hideous, tinny laughter, followed the declaration, "That's the way to do it!" 