Pausing for a moment, my mind escaped from its trance. Dr. Hamelin had his eyes fixed firm upon my own, the same stale smirk he had worn under the doorway still on his lips. His right leg was propped up across the other, a small notepad rested in his lap. He had made a habit of scribbling words down without breaking sight of me, as if he feared he would miss a keen detail if he allowed himself to look elsewhere. Taking notice of my apparent peculiar gaze towards him, he nodded his head in an agreeing fashion and raised his brow, "Not often has a client been so reluctant to express their emotions, yet when given the chance they speak with such fluency. You retell these events as if they had occurred on multiple occasions, as if the sight of this boy's death has been routine and rehearsed," Readjusting himself, he raised a freshly poured glass to his lips, "There is a certain poeticness in the way you talk, as if you are merely reciting a poem," He paused for a moment, taking a sip from the glass and returning it to the tabletop, "Or in this case, a fairy tale of your own."

"I apologize Doctor, but I am afraid I don't follow," I too, noticing that I had been ever so slightly sliding down the back of the chair, bolstered my posture and allowed myself to lean heavily upon its arm, "I only describe it as I perceiv-" There had been a faint roar from below, or if not in actuality, I alone was capable of at least hearing the cry. It was a squeal that had so perfectly matched that of the Chase Adams I had many times heard before. The shrill sound, although so sudden and so soft, had sent a tingle up through my spine making my hairs stand on end.

"Mr. Reid, are you alright? Is there a problem?" Showing that he was truly concerned with my well being, he sprung up from his chair, his notepad falling to the floor.

Feeling rather embarrassed at the measures in which he reacted, I notioned that the sound must have been nothing more than my own subconscious reminding me of the scorched child in his fiery agony; yet my white knuckles clenching tight upon the armrest told another story. "Oh no. . . I just heard- uh- nothing, it isn't important, merely my mind playing tricks on me," Releasing my grip, I rubbed hard under my eyes as if attempting to wipe away the ghouls haunting me, "I didn't mean to frighten you, I just-"

Already he was propped back up in his seat, but with a harsh growl he cut me off, "Mr. Reid, may I remind you that I allowed you to consult me with no notice beforehand," For a split second what had once been a kindly-looking, pleasant man, had become unrecognizable with a deep crimson shade sprouting through his pigment, "Please make it worth my while."

Startled by the ferocity in which he spoke, my posture sank with my spirits as I attempted to muster and recollect my past thoughts. Only half of my mind was focused in these quick few moments in which I gathered myself, the other half was still intent on hearing the cry once more. Rinsing my mouth with a short swig from a glass of my own, I began to retell my story from where I had left off. Dr. Hamelin had urged me to leave out any unimportant detail, it seemed that he was only interested in the investigation. At first my speech was slow, but as I delved deeper into my nightmares I could feel my words rolling off my tongue like lyrics.

To our disbelief the tiny scrap of paper found within the clutches of Chase Adams was more than just an allusion into our future; it was the key to finding the next piece of the puzzle. Although at the surface it was nothing more than just a strip torn from a notebook, the forensics team was able to extract a miniscule sample of DNA from within the ink in which it was written. Not often does such a small amount bring results such as the ones we found, but of course, we were only following what guidelines the man behind all of this had left us; a man so clever as to lace his own ink in order to lead us to his next work of monstrous art. We had found a unprecedented match, Ms. Carsyn Belle, who had been brought into custody only 4 months previously on charges of violent protests. She had only been held behind bars for little more than a night on part because she had never actually committed any true crime, it was just a matter of maintaining the peace amongst the streets. Her files gave us all of the necessary information we needed to locate her, and we took every precaution to prepare for the most dangerous situation. I may have been following by his rules, but never would I walk blindfolded into one of these traps.

Carsyn Belle lived on the dilapidated east side of the city. More often than not, law enforcement would be sweeping the neighborhood in search of gang or drug related violence. From what I had researched about our suspect, she did not seem to be involved in anything of the sort. She was a graduate student who was unable to afford a more luxurious place to stay within the heart of the city; like many of this district's citizens, the recent economic crisis had left them with little other options.

The squad cars trailing trailing close behind me, flashed their lights to ward off any unnecessary bystanders. Ms. Belle's home was in the midst of a cul de sac, her porch light still faintly glowing against the rising moon. The path leading to the door was splintered and eroded away, the grass from her yard forming its own streams through the concrete. Pounding my fist against the white, wooden door, the paint shattered and flaked to my feet with every beat. Raising my flashlight upwards I attempted to peer inside of the musky, stained windows. Although I did shout her name to try and catch her attention if she happened to be inside, I was no fool, and I knew that if she was within those walls she would not be in any condition to be able to respond.

After a few minutes of my hopeless calling, I motioned for one of the officers to siege the home. The door nearly crumbled with the force, and the empty darkness it hid lit up with the rays of our lights. Taking the first steps into the void, my hand felt across the poorly plastered walls searching for a switch. One after another we tried the knobs, no lights other than our own flashlights and the porch would be of any assistance now that we have entered. Scanning to and fro, my eyes surveyed every room. The carpet was ridden with dirt, and even in the darkness I could see small puffs emerge with every step I took. Filthy dishes still rotted away in the sink, stuffed trash bags lined the corners of the home. A part of me was thankful for the power not working properly, for I feared what insects may rise up in their disturbance. Checking room by room, I found no differing results. Nearing the end of the hall of, now opened, doors my palm grasped one last handle. Twisting it ever so carefully, I nudged it open allowing my flashlight to do its best at unveiling what was within.

My stomach curled over as soon as the door was open wide enough to see inside. Never had I imagined such a foul aroma to exist. Having so suddenly lost my focus, my eyes darted around the bedroom in search of the source. If not for the reflection in its eyes, I would have never noticed it in my reckless overview of the scene. Two glowing beams glared back at me. Its face sticky and matted with days old blood that still dangled in clumps from its hair covered jaw. I dare not move from my position, but the longer I waited the more clearly I could see the muscles within its thin legs begin to tense. The beast flashed its teeth with a fierce snarl, so clean and sharp against the dark surroundings. Across its side you could see a rib cage pressing up through balding fur. One crimson cloaked paw extended forwards, stepping over whatever carcass it had previously been devouring. Its claws dug deep into the stained carpet, its back beginning to rear up. With a roar it leaped towards the doorway, but before I could react its body crashed hard like lead against the floor.

A mixture of growling and whimpering was emitted from the maw of the beast as it laid upon its side unmoving. It heaved and gasped and I was now beginning to understand what had happened. A silver collar wrapped tight around the beast's neck, its pincer having pierced through the skin. Seeing its chest rise and fall so rapidly I realized what I was witnessing. The canine was nothing more than a tool; I had found the Beast. As if the pieces had finally fallen into place, my eyes shot over towards the pile of eaten flesh. The rays from the flashlight were scattered and vibrating as my hand involuntarily shook while my feet guided me.

There before me was what remained of Ms. Carsyn Belle. Where there had once been a face was now nothing more than mesh of blood and muscle that had not fully been devoured, merely chewed. My eyes continued down seeing her bare chest clawed away and ripped apart; her forearms were gnawed raw and the bone beneath could clearly be seen. The gaping cavity below her ribs was even now continuing to overflow with blood, her half eaten innards strewn out across her hips. Much like her arms, her skinny feminine legs were nothing but tattered denim. There was nothing left below that apart from petite, blood laden stumps, for all of the toes had been torn away.

The dog, already having taken its last breaths, left me alone in silence. My senses had went numb, my body refusing to allow me to vomit. All I was capable of doing was standing right there, my eyes unable to look anywhere other than Ms. Belle. The fountain of blood that trickled from her abdomen seemed to never have an end, like it would continue to flow until I too was drenched in crimson. My flashlight was fixed upon the fountain, there was a faint twinkling from beneath the pool. Kneeling down in a sort of trance, I could feel the blood seep through my pant leg. Reaching for the twinkling light, my hand dove beneath the surface. Pulling out, I found myself holding a circular piece of metal. With my dry thumb I wiped clean the blood, tiny words were stamped onto the metal. I let what seemed to be a dog tag dangle from my hand, holding it close in front of my face to read the words. There were no words etched into the metal, only a series of letters and a snowflake. Using my thumb once more I struggled to uncover anything that I may not have noticed. There was nothing. Only the letters LNRNITGAE OEEPTYSNRM and a snowflake.
 

My voice trailed off after those last words and I found myself staring blankly into the oblivion before me. As if subconsciously cleansing myself, my hands rubbed at one another; the feeling of the thick, crimson blood still ingrained in my mind. The blood that was continuing to be spilled as long as I continued to come up empty handed. Letting my thumb trickle across my palm, much like the blood had done itself, my fingers clasped around the ring tightly secured in place. With a little twist the ring slid off into my hand. Still staring ahead I did not look down to see the ring myself, but I could feel it turning and tumbling amongst my fingertips. The calloused skin of my palm would occasionally snag the engraved carvings in the otherwise smooth metal. Squeezing it tight within my grasp at last, my head nodded down to see the clenched fist in my lap. I could feel its edges pressing deeper into my skin, but I dare not loosen my grip for fear that I would lose everything to this monstrosity. Raising my knuckles to my lips I let my eyes close for a brief moment in hopes that somehow I would wake up from this awful nightmare that was plaguing the world around me.

"Detective Reid. . ." In such a daze I had been unaware of the fact that he had been trying to regain my attention for quite sometime as I had been so distracted with my own decrepit wedding band.

With a sigh of my own self ridicule I replied, "I do not mean to be so easily distracted Doctor, it just seems that reliving these events so vividly has strung up a nerve within me. It's quite unsettling and at times I find it hard to even continue on," Sliding the band back into its proper place I adjusted my posture much like I had before, "Not only must I watch others pass away to this demonic beast, but it seems as if I myself have been cursed with a deadly Midas touch. The longer I sit soaking away in my own remorse and sorrow, the longer this devil is capable of wreaking havoc our lives."

I rose from my chair, but Dr. Hamelin quickly sprung up and notioned that I return to my seat, "No no no. Detective please take a seat, you are in no condition to leave. You must finish the story, finish telling me of your troubles," With bony hands he nudged me back down onto the cushion, waiting on his feet for a moment to ensure that I would not try and escape once more, " The letters. The- the code. That's where you had left off. Continue Parker, it can only help you in the long run. Reliving through these things, they- they can only help you realize your mistake. It's constructive you see? A sort of proof reading of the entire investigation from start to finish."

Once again the Doctor had succeeded in blind siding me with a burst of unaccounted enthusiasm. He was a rather anxious man, and he almost quivered in his polished shoes with excitement at the thought of me staying to finish the narration. Returning to the seat of his own, he scrambled to reposition the notepad in his lap. Although on the outside his facial expressions were plain, you could make out spark of pleasure in his pale eyes. "The code and the snowflake, Detective Reid. Tell me what happened next."

I was hesitant to begin once more after such an unusual behavior, but with his look of intent drilling deep into my own look of confusion, my voice began to pick up speed once more. The letters and the snowflake, the gates to Hell. Whether or not my mind was merely tormenting me I do not know, but I swore could hear the faintest whimper of a distant child lost to darkness.

Only a few days more had gone by, but not a second did I spend away from the case. Every waking minute of the day was spent attempting to unravel the mystery that was that code. Notebooks of my own were beginning to overflow with the possible combinations of the letter, yet none of them seemed to be relevant to anywhere or anything. This was the most frustrating thing of all, the fact that I had they key to preventing the next murder but being unable to simply work with the tools given to me. Hardly ever did I sleep anymore. My wife, Catherine, would only find me at night to kiss her before she went to sleep herself. Unlike me, she was not haunted by the ghosts of the fallen, she was nothing more than a bystander looking out upon a morbid playing field. It funny actually, funny how we would always proclaim our love for one another yet in the time I needed her most I would not even give her the time of day; only a soft peck every night to show her that I was still there for her. Now that I think about it though, if anyone would have known the answer to this riddle, it would have been her. If only I had known.

Like every day had gone since I dug up the code from the belly of the Beauty, I sat alone in my office for hours on end writing out the remaining possibilities for the code. The ink in my pen was beginning to go dry, leaving only imprints of letters into the pages. My phone began to buzz on the desk I was working at, shaking the paper as I tried my best to get the rest of the use from the pen. Given my current state and the urgency in which I worked, I would generally let the call go straight to voicemail. This time was different, out of the corner of my eye I could see Catherine's name at the top of the screen, the phone nearing the last of its rings. Quickly, I answered the call and put the phone close to my ear. After a brief moment of silence I greeted her but no response came. I continued to wait in silence, every now and again calling her by name, but there was still no answer. Glancing around I saw the letters spread out across the pages. The letters seemingly hopping across the lined paper to fit into their appropriate places to form the solution. There is a cruel trick being played when you only truly understand the question after being given the answer: Springton Elementary. The phone hung up.

To be honest I do not remember very many details leading to my arrival at the school. All of it is simply a blur, but I knew that I needed to reach Catherine immediately. She had been going on her fourth year of teaching down at Springton. It was no where near the largest school in the district but it definitely suited her well. She had never been one to enjoy the large crowds of the city, so this quaint little suburban school was a perfect match for her, and they welcomed her with open arms the moment she applied. Catherine always found a way to make things more exciting than they truly were (one of the reasons I think she married me was simply because she tricked herself into falling for average everyday man, when we both know she could have just as easily gotten any other male she set her mind to). The kindergarten class that she taught seemed to love her. She would constantly be bringing home drawing the students had made for her. We may not have had any children just yet, but our refrigerator would have made you thought we ran a foster home.

Bursting through the front doors of the school, I could already make out the crying of teachers that gathered out in the hallways yet whom were still trying to distract the children from thinking anything had gone wrong. Sirens could be heard off in the distance, so I knew that I had been the primary target; I had been notified before anyone else. Wading through the wailing staff members, flashing my badge to get them to back away from me, I could already feel my body beginning to go numb. My head was growing dizzier every moment and if not for the path formed by the teachers I would have surely never found the classroom. The closer I was to the scene the clammier my skin grew; little beads of sweat sprouting across my body doing their best to cool my burning skin. Already I could feel a lump rising up through my throat as I took my first step into the classroom.

The room was silent, not even the sobbing teachers outside of the door could pierce the engulfing nothingness. Delving deeper with every footstep, it was obvious to see that the desk had been shoved to the outskirts of the room; now lining the walls like a picket fence. You could not make out what was fixed at the center of the room, only that towering panes formed an internal circle in which all other objects in the class revolved around. Lifting aside the pan closest to me, I examined the otherside first; seeing nothing more than my own reflection in a large mirror. Turning my head back around to face what was truly hidden behind this cage of mirrors, the glass pane slipped from my clutches and shattered across the floor.

There her body lay. So delicate. Unscathed. This was nothing like that of the other two scenes which had been littered with graphics displays of horror, this was a work of art. Catherine's was untouched it seemed, the mirrors all reflecting her perfection. Kneeling down beside her I did not cry, I did not make any noise at all for the room would not permit it. Taking her dainty, gentle hand in my own I gazed at her beautiful face for the last time. Long, caramel colored hair was draped along her shoulder. Her skin was flawless, not a single blemish was to be found. Eyes the color of the richest chocolate were hidden beneath her sealed eyelids. Her lips made no expression, pressed slim together with a faint coat of red lipstick. She was in an eternal sleep, yet I knelt there bringing her palm to my cheek to feel her touch as if she would somehow wake up. The true love's kiss that would awaken the slumbering princess from the evil grasp of the witch. Above her head was the largest of the mirrors in the circle, and written across the pane were the words "Who's the fairest of them all?" Consumed by my own personal grief I had not even realized another key element to the scene, and not until a teacher burst into the room to accompany me did I care to acknowledge the problem. The entire classroom full of kindergarten students was missing. This was no fairy tale.

"That's it. That's all I have to say. There was no other clue at the scene. He won." I could again feel a tear roll down alongside my nose. My body would no longer tremble at the mention of this, it was now just an accepted truth that drained all of my will. Catherine had died just for the sake of dragging me deeper into his own game, like my life was a marionette for him to toy with. Everything was lost. I had lost.

"Parker Reid, I am afraid to say you are mistaken," Alas he let a large grin spread across his lips, "I am the clue, and you are the Prince Charming."
 

Neither of us moved as I felt my heart sink deep within me. My mind raced faster than it ever had done before, like all of a sudden a switch had been flipped that shone light on everything that had been happening. With shaky, slow breaths I could hear my pulse roaring louder and louder as my heart boomed against my chest. The hair on my neck was already on end and like shutters on a lens I could feel my pupils dilating. I know not how long we stood there staring into one another's eyes not daring to make the first move in the chess game that had just begun. A part of me feels it may have only been a fraction of a second, nothing longer than the blink of an eye; but at the same time I feel it may have been hours, so haunting were those long drawn out moments in time.

"And you call yourself a detective," He let out a sarcastic sneer that nearly matched a huff of air, "Unable to adequately perform your job even when having all of the evidence laid out directly in front of you for the taking."

Dr. Hamelin made no apparent acts of aggression so I felt no pressing urge to strain what little patience this monster may have. My senses were heightened to the most acute level at the time, the muscles throughout my arm twitched and my eyes were scanning the room in such a peculiar speed. "Who are you?" Finally I managed to speak these words that had been burning against my tongue for quite some time.

"Think Parker, who am I?" Squirming around in his chair like a child who could not sit stationary for an entire church service, he finally rose to his feet.

Delving into the darkest most unusual, unnecessary knowledge that I may have acquired by some subliminal means throughout my life, I look up to meet his eyes. He was doing something that I had never noticed him doing at all during our entire meeting with one another, a whistling tune chorused from his lips. The high pitched music bounced and twirled around the small office; this was the moment I truly understood who I was dealing with. Dr. Hamelin was more than just a mere clue to lead me further on along this path, he was the beginning and the end, the cloud that started the storm, he was the Pied Piper.

"The children, Hamelin, tell me where they are," The sorrow and pity was no longer mingling amongst my words, for so long had I imagined what I would do to this man once I got my hands on him. Just as he had watched and enjoyed taking those innocent lives with his own hands, I too would do the same. The pleasure it brought to my mind when I imagined my hands wrapped tight around his throat, feeling his pulse quicken against my palms as he drew his last breaths. Making him feel the same pain that they too surely had felt in their last moments. What I would give to have his soul haunt my dreams after death, that would be the only fairy tale ending I could hope for.

He nodded and gave a solemn smirk that contradicted any moment of happiness that I may have thought myself to understand. Hamelin was still calling the shots, and he knew exactly how this encounter would play out; what scared me the most was that he found it delighting. "Do not worry, Parker, I have every intention of telling you where they are. All you must do is cooperate with what I have to say. I have not gone this far just to have it all end with nothing more than a few confessions, no, not in the slightest."

I knew now that I was not simply imagining the cries of Chase Adams, the children were close yet hidden so perfectly, much like every event that had come along on this monstrous trail of despair. Rising to my feet as well I stepped towards him, my jaw clenched tight into place. "Do you think this is some kind of game that you can just make the rules for?" The first blow struck him right across the eye socket, I could feel the skin slice under the force of my bony knuckles. "You are not some bard who can tell stories at the expense of other's lives!" The second came shortly after to the opposite side, his teeth tearing into his own lips as stumbled backwards losing his balance and falling hard to the floor.

Hamelin snickered as he sat up on the floor, wiping some of the blood that crept from his mouth with his sleeve. "Detective Reid, you have not even let me have a say in all of this, you are really wasting you time." Pushing up from the ground he got back to his feet and braced himself, "But I do understand what you may be feeling right now, after all I am a psychiatrist."

It's difficult to describe exactly how I felt during the next few minutes, a mixture of hatred and sorrow. With every blow he would only smile and prepare for more, even in his own self destruction he was controlling my actions. I continued to harm him only because he allowed it to be, there was no self will in my actions. To think that I would have enjoyed his suffering is something of a different matter, there was no enjoyment if he only enjoyed it more. What is there to gain if I am only doing his will? This was not a benefit or a gift, this was my job and my duty. Like I had been from the very beginning, I was nothing more than a character within his own twisted plot that was soon to come to an end.

My knuckles were raw and torn, the flesh now shredded through the friction of skin on skin. They stung most definitely and I found it hard to clench my fist any longer as each blow now took more effort by my part than it did pain by his. Hamelin's nose was drastically crooked and a large slit connected his eyes like a pair of reading glasses. His cheeks were purple and swollen so that I could no longer look into his eyes from the inflamed skin and thick blood. Much of his lips had been ripped away, his shattered, blood stained teeth impaling the skin. "Do you not understand what is going to happen to you?!" With a sigh I flung his body to the floor, he laid there, his body rocking back and forth from its cynical laughter.

"Da childen. . . dey're 'nder us. . ." Hamelin rolled to his back, no longer laughing but his injuries made his words almost incomprehensible.

"What? What did you say?" Scrambling to the coffee table I grabbed the pitcher of water and dumped it across his face in an attempt to wash away some of the blood that was making it so difficult for him to speak.

"You will find the children. . . the couch you were sitting in. . . you will need the key. . ." With his last bit of strength he reached into his coat and pulled out a short blade. Laying it beside him he began to unbutton his, now soaking, blood stained shirt.

"Where is the key? Where can I find it?" Looking around the room rather intently I did not think twice of the Doctor exposing his bare torso. Something did catch my eye however, a large recently healed scar ran from his sternum to his navel.

"You are the Prince Charming," Reaching over he grabbed the hilt of the blade and extended it me, "Like Maleficent you must strike me down, that is the only way you will find what you are looking for."

I took the blade without hesitation, knowing exactly what must be done in order to save the lives of the children he had stolen, all of the lives he had ended before they had even truly began, the love that he had robbed me of. He deserved every minute of this agony that would soon come, but I knew it would not be seen as such to him. No matter what pain I inflicted upon him, I would still always be doing exactly what he was telling me to do. To his death bed I was puppet, his character, his living and breathing Prince Charming.

Taking the hilt in both of my hands I slowly plunged it downwards, feeling the soft resistance the tip of the blade felt as it first encountered the skin and then easily broke through it effortlessly. Sliding my hands towards me the skin parted along the scar and I could see the key, bundled within a plastic coating it rested at the surface while blood began to pour from the wound.

Hamelin did not make any noise from that moment on, when he actually breathed his last breaths is beyond me but I believe it was before I even had the chance to extract the key. I was anxious now, feeling so close to finally ending all of these horrible actions. Running over to the couch I slammed it to the side, digging up at the carpet to expose whatever latch or passage may be hidden beneath it. There was a small wooden door that was level with the floor and like Hamelin had promised it was locked, so fumbling with the plastic bag I removed the key and inserted it into the slot hoping that there would not be any more tricks to be played, no more twists, no more turns, only and ending to this tragic fantasy of his.

The key clicked and turned with ease and with my stained hands I lifted the door open to allow for a small black hole in the floor to be seen. A wooden ladder extended into the immeasurable darkness that was beneath me. Crying out, my voice echoed amongst the barren walls of the cave but I was given no reply. With steady feet I mounted the ladder, preparing to descend into the black. With one last look at Hamelin's body I lowered myself into the depths of the moist void. All was silent apart from my boots hitting the wood of the ladder and my soft panting breaths.

This was it, I had managed to find the last pages of the novel. The long needed ending to what seemed like a never ending series of suffering. I felt concrete beneath my boot now, releasing the ladder I turned to face the abyss. Crying out once more I hoped that I had managed to reach the children in time, but there was still no reply. Not a sound.

"Is there anyone down here?! Anyone!?"

I waited for a moment, letting the echoes of my voice ricochet down the unseen corridors of the cavern. Turning my back I put one hand upon the wood of the ladder and began my ascent. Just like my voice, my footsteps now made soft echoes in the silence and in the most faintest of voices I thought I could hear Chase Adams calling out my name.