The Sinister Reflection: A Child in the Crime Scene

The rain poured down like a relentless symphony, hammering against the old, wooden windows of the dilapidated house. Detective A-Lang stood in the doorway, his trench coat flapping in the wind, his face illuminated by the flickering glow of the crime scene lights. The scene was a surreal tableau of chaos and order, as if a child's drawing had been realized in macabre detail.

Inside, the living room was a scene of horror. A body lay sprawled on the floor, a pool of blood seeping into the carpet. The room was filled with the scent of decay and the lingering fear of the unknown. But what caught A-Lang's eye was the child, no more than five years old, sitting on the floor, her eyes wide with a mixture of shock and curiosity.

"Who are you?" A-Lang's voice was firm, but his heart raced with a different kind of fear. The child looked up at him, her eyes reflecting the eerie glow of the lights.

"I'm here," she replied, her voice as innocent as a lark's song. "I'm waiting for my mother."

A-Lang's mind raced. The child had no idea what she had witnessed. She was a witness to a crime, but not in the way adults understood. She was a child, and children saw things differently.

"Where is your mother?" he asked, stepping closer.

"I don't know," the child said, her voice tinged with a hint of sadness. "She told me to wait here."

A-Lang's gaze shifted to the body on the floor. The victim was a man, his face unrecognizable, his eyes wide with terror. He had been killed, and the child had been there, unseen, unheard.

"Did you see who did this?" A-Lang's voice was a whisper, but it carried the weight of the world.

The child shook her head, her eyes filled with confusion. "I don't know. I just... I just wanted to find her."

A-Lang's mind was a whirlwind of possibilities. The child could be a witness, a suspect, or even a pawn in a much larger game. He had to act quickly, but he couldn't shake the feeling that the child was a key to unlocking the mystery.

He knelt down, his eyes meeting hers. "I need to ask you some questions. Can you tell me your name?"

"Sarah," she replied, her voice steady.

"Sarah, can you tell me what you saw when you got here?"

Sarah hesitated, her eyes darting around the room. "I saw a man. He was sitting there, just like you. But he wasn't a detective. He was... he was mean."

A-Lang's heart sank. The man could have been a suspect, or perhaps someone connected to the victim. But what about the child? Was she involved in some way?

"Did you talk to him?" he pressed.

"No," Sarah said, her eyes filling with tears. "I didn't want to."

A-Lang's hand reached out, gently touching her shoulder. "It's okay, Sarah. You did the right thing by waiting for your mother."

Sarah nodded, her eyes still filled with fear, but a glimmer of hope shone through. A-Lang knew he had to protect her, to keep her safe. But as he stood up, he couldn't shake the feeling that the child was more than just a witness. She was a part of something much larger, something that would force A-Lang to confront the darkest corners of his own mind.

As he turned to leave the room, the child's voice called out to him. "Detective, wait!"

A-Lang turned back, his eyes meeting hers. "Yes, Sarah?"

"I want to go home," she said, her voice trembling.

A-Lang's heart ached for the child. He knew she needed to go home, to be with her mother, to find some semblance of normalcy in this chaos. But as he walked out of the house, he couldn't shake the feeling that the child's words held a deeper meaning. "Home," she had said. But where was her home?

The rain continued to pour, washing away the evidence of the crime, but not the questions that lingered in A-Lang's mind. The child, the crime, the man who had been sitting in the room, all of it was a puzzle that needed to be solved. And as he drove away from the scene, A-Lang knew that the truth was just as elusive as the child's mother.

The investigation would take him down a path filled with twists and turns, where the line between detective and suspect would blur, and where the child's presence at the crime scene would force A-Lang to confront the darkest corners of his own mind. But one thing was certain: the truth was out there, waiting to be uncovered, and A-Lang was ready to face whatever it held.