It was at the same place where the Fourth and the Fifth had been murdered.  The lingering metallic smell of blood was there as always; but now the smell was fresh. The small boy was propped against a tree, a dull, lost look in his eye and a gaping hole in his neck, which was bleeding profusely.  His expression was blank and his head was slightly tilted upwards; almost as though he had been looking at someone.  The infamous pocket knife was on the ground a few feet away from him, still stained with blood. "Bye-bye, Ni." Nana's taunting, mocking voice repeated those words over and over again in Ni's head.  His half-closed