As requested, here is my writing subject based on the subject given:
It wasn't the sight of blood that did me in, though it was nothing short of egregious even by my own, admittedly jaded, standards.
Oh, no.
It was the smell. Sharp and metallic, it invaded my nose and curled up on my tongue, suppressing the dull, stale odours of spilled beer, cigarette smoke, and the myriad of other stenches one could find in a dive like this.
My partner, Angel Gutierrez, was currently puking his guts out just outside the door. I should be sympathetic of the kid, I know, but I still couldn't help wondering if he was contaminating some vital piece of evidence.
There was a crack of broken glass and Dr Mortimer Kowalski, ME, appeared.
"Janet," he nodded in greeting, his eyes surveying the room. Had anyone else called me anything but 'Detective McMahon', I'd have their giblets for lunch. Kowalski’s known me since I was green around the gills and still on my first husband; he could call me 'Cupcake' if he wanted.
"You just come in?" I asked. He waved his head. "Hitched a ride with the Forensics," he replied. Ah. So he was out taking a smoke. It was his go-to coping mechanism for dealing with the more... extreme cases.
And this... this was as extreme as they got.
"OK, then," I finally said, turning to the good doctor, and asked, "What do we know so far?" If I was going to make the ins and outs of this goddamned thing, I'll need all the information I could possibly get right from the start.