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I'll try not to make this overly detailed, because I am typing this from an Internet cafe and there really isn't that much detail to begin with. I was born in Connecticut; but currently I live in New York City. More accurately, I live under New York City. I am one of the homeless people who are too poor to afford an apartment so I get by by looking for shelter in the city's sewage network. Usually, people like me have no stories to tell but that of regret over lost opportunities or weird things they find in the tunnels. Mine is probably classified as the latter.
It was about two weeks ago while I was wandering around the sewers in Bronx. Bronx's sewers were much worse than the rest of New York's sewage system. Having standards in between places where p*** and s*** go may sound funny, but trust me when I say places like the Bronx sewers would often make you re-evaluate your life in the undergrounds of other places. Much less functional plumbing and lighting there and much more chance of encountering the likes of me, or worse. To sum it up, that is the worst place you can be when you are a beggar on the streets in New York and I was really at my lowest during that time, and I am hardly better now. You may wonder why I was staying in there in the first place. I honestly couldn't tell. Why does anyone stay anywhere? Anyway, I am getting way off-topic here.
I was looking for a comfortable place to spend the night in, somewhere that wasn't too cold or where anyone could disturb me while I'm sleeping. The general rule was that the less manholes there are, the more safe you are from other people waking you; which usually meant somewhere way farther into the sewage system. Ideally I also wanted a place next to heating pipes. At least that was my resolve when I first started searching, but when the night had already reached midway and my eyes were beginning to get lazy, I was ready to settle for anywhere. I had been walking alongside drainage pipes and concrete walls for hours looking for somewhere I believed safe.
My eyes were droopy and slowly descending, but when they finally saw something, they woke back up again. The horizontal stretch of pipe that I had been following for hours...it was bleeding. A small part of the pipe's joint was slightly loose, and bloody water was leaking out of it onto the concrete below. It looked like the pipe had been bleeding for a long while; there was a large stain gathered under there to prove it, a pool of blood so dried up it almost looked like rust. Numerous flies had gathered up under the pipe, flying around the stain and fighting over the drippings despite how it looked like there was plenty enough for all of them. My first instinct was to get the hell out of there, and I did. For a tired and sleepy homeless man, I was surprisingly fast in my attempt to remove myself from the sewers.
As much as I wanted to stay out from it, this really felt like something worth reporting to the police about; so I notified the cops on a payphone. Later that day, I was somehow found and brought in by the police station and a detective called me in to his room for questioning, where I told him everything I knew. Once the questioning was finished, the detective left me his phone number in case I ran into more clues. I hadn't heard much later about the investigation after that and I was lucky they didn't blame me for the whole thing. Either way, I forgot about the whole pipe incident until now. Just yesterday with the same payphone, I called the detective to ask about what the police had found. He didn't seem to be hiding anything and he told me about the investigation.
First of all, it wasn't just blood that they had found through the pipes. There were also numerous but extremely small pieces of hair, bones and flesh. The DNA belonged to a local Bronx girl who had went missing a month ago. But her blood was not the only one that had been bleeding through the pipes. The cops managed to scrape off the DNA of at least two more people from the large collected bloodstain and they believe there may be more. They tracked the pipe and it led to an abandoned apartment here in Bronx. The blood had been drained through the shower room of one of the apartment rooms.
What was inside that shower room was a bloodstained woodchipper.