Written with Desperation, Red with Confusion

    The victim had tried to write something as he was dying, but it couldn't be deciphered. The detectives scoured the room for evidence. It was clear there was a great struggle. Did the victim try to fend off his attacker with the pen? It wasn't clear among the ichor spewed over the body and floor.
    "What was the cause?" The lead investigator asked as he strode through the room. The rest of the team looked at him befuddled. This was clearly a stabbing; what else would draw blood like this?
    "Uh. Judging by the scene, we believe he was stabbed multiple times. Sir." One of the detectives replied.
    "Is that so, Dolf was it? Where are the knife wounds?"
    Everyone glanced at each other. They hadn't checked.
    The lead detective bent down and touched the blood. He streaked it on a piece of paper. Then he took the pen from the victim. A fountain pen. He unscrewed it and found now-empty red cartridge.
Gasps filled the room. "This was no stabbing, you fools!" The lead detective shouted.
    The victim sprang up at the noise, startled from his slumber. "What's going on?" he asked.
    "You didn't check his vitals?" The lead inspector said glaring at his team.
    "W... well it seemed obvious at the sight. Sir" Dolf said.
    "Aw man, that was my last red cartridge." The non-victim complained.