Cleaning up blood was always a hassle, especially when it splattered on an original wooden floor. Blood would seep deep into the wood, making it incredibly difficult to clean thoroughly, no matter the effort. Unless, of course, one resorted to purifying everything with fire.
Dean could tell at a glance that the room's wooden floor had been washed repeatedly and recently. However, the residual bloodstains were too copious and had been exposed to the air for too long, congealing into distinctive dark brown marks.
Without a word, Dean kicked the young man's knee joint.
CRACK! With a sickening crunch, the young man's leg twisted backward at a grotesque angle. He collapsed to his knees, dazed, as Dean grabbed his hair and yanked, tearing out a large, blood-matted clump.
Another kick. The young man's other leg snapped, bending grotesquely upwards into an inverted U-shape—a sight that would make anyone's scalp crawl.
