Mind Over Murder

June examined the bloodstain on the wall.

“Well,” She said, looking up at the four faces peering up at her. "It's definitely not a suicide." She caught one or two eye rolls as she stood up from her crouching position, and more than a few nasty thoughts bubbled in their heads. It was fair, she really didn't have any place being here, as they often pointed out. Sometimes out loud, sometimes not. June cocked an eyebrow at the officers' faces. Two of the four looked annoyed at a teenager doing their job, one was looking at her curiously, as if working out a puzzle, and the last just looked bored.

She couldn't blame him.

It wasn't a particularly intriguing case. However, it did in fact seem to be a suicide at first glance. A man, sitting at a table flopped forward, wrists cut and facing up. But June could tell that it had been a murder. One who thinks he is clever. Whoever it was is long gone. there were no thoughts floating around.

"Oh don't give me those 'typical of her' eyes Jameson. Look at the blood spats. The bruises. The wrists were cut while he was restrained, and when he was dead and most of the bleeding calmed, he was dragged to the chair and positioned. How else do you explain the pooling blood on the floor and the lack on the table." As she spoke, June pointed to the spurts of blood on the ceiling and walls, along with small bruises alone the wrists and torso.

"We've already-"

"Yes, I know you've decided it was a simple suicide. But you were wrong.”

"What, are you going to bring someone in too?" One of the officers scoffed. June shrugged.

"Perhaps. I'm rather busy at the moment."

She nodded at the men and walked out of the door. She didn’t need to be formal about it; It’s not as if she was working for them. Sure, sometimes she got a bit of pocket money for her interference, but it wasn’t a real job. She wasn't even supposed to be there. She stopped on the third step, hearing a rapid-fire of half-formed insults from the officers, griping at each other about 'the girl'. A few of the nastier ones never made it to their mouths, but they didn't know she knew that. She debated for a moment whether or not she should turn and face them arguing behind her, or simply be on her merry way.

She chose the latter.

June grabbed the car keys from her purse and unlocked her almost-new car. As she hopped in and closed the door she heard someone calling for her. She paused a moment. As she looked out the window, there was no one there. She hesitated before looking back out the windshield and froze. It was her mother. Thin. Pale. Ghastly.

“Juniper…”

June cringed at her full name. Her mother’s eyes widened before the figure screeched a ghostly wail. June shouted, screwing her eyes shut and covering her ears, preparing for a barrage of screams, but it never came. She looked up, and there was nothing but an awfully confused looking pedestrian she often crossed paths with, shooing his small child away from the ‘deranged beast of a girl.’ Those were the exact words the woman had been thinking. June breathed deeply, pulling her long curly dark hair around her face. No matter how many times the visions came, they were never any less terrifying. After collecting herself, she began her drive to the flat she had rented. Why was it even called a flat? Europe was odd. Of course, she had probably made it considerably more so.