Dawn, about four in the morning.
There's a sullen silence around the room. A man and his wife sleeping, but there's a pillow between them.

The telephone that's located on top of a lamp desk, next to the lamp, rang and it broke the silence of the dawn.

A man who's on his early thirties was awaken by the continuous ringing of the phone. He scratched his head and sighed deeply before he grabbed the phone and answered it.
"Yes..???"

"Good morning Detective Al, I'm sorry if I disturbed you at this early hour, but it's just kinda urgent sir... "

Still laying on his bed, Al replied in a serious and curious tone, "Spill it, officer."

"Murder, sir. A cold-blooded one. A woman was...", the police officer was kind of hesitant to speak but yet he continued, "..she was brutally mutilated... sir. Her face was lacerated and covered with deep cuts and blood. Location's at the second floor of a small and old apartment building, unit number 6, Oval Apartment, 117 York Boulevard, sir."

The detective, with pure blankness on his face, sighed again deeply and muttered to himself, "Oh shit..", then he replied and instructed the officer with a relax and calm tone, "Call Fred, I would need him there."

"I already did, sir. He's already on his way, sir."

"Alright. Good. I'll be there in a couple of minutes... Preserve the area, don't let anyone touch the crime scene... Call the forensic team after I hang this phone down. Alright?"

"Yes sir. As usual."

The detective laid down again for a while. He breathed deep, closed his eyes, and slowly stood up from the bed. He stared towards his wife who's still sleeping, he took away the pillow that's been placed in between them, but he didn't wake her up.

He then picked up a small prescription bottle of antidepressant pills from the lamp desk.

He took two pills from the bottle, swallowed it, then 'geared up' for the crime scene.