❥•••ఌ•••ఌ•••ఌ•••ꨄ•••ఌ•••ఌ•••ఌ•••❥
"Hello?..."
Pick up the phone for little old me? Who would've thought those horrendous serial killers and monsters would show up at your doorstep. Who knew that they'd be so horny all the time.
❥•••ఌ•••ఌ•••ఌ•••ꨄ•••ఌ...
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The yells and questions of news reporters surrounded the terror-filled Alise, their voices cutting through the air like sharp blades. The bustling scene was a whirlwind of chaos and frenzy, with reporters jostling for position and thrusting their microphones towards her face. Her eyes darted frantically from one camera flash to another, momentarily blinded by the glaring lights. The well-dressed men and women, equipped with notepads and recording devices, pressed closer, hungry for a story that would captivate the public's attention.
Alise, still adorned in the same blood-stained dress she had worn on that terrible night, had just emerged from an exhausting round of interrogation. Her hands, cuffed in front of her, were held firmly by police officers, their grip a stern reminder of her status as the prime suspect in the most heinous crime ever witnessed in their small town. The officers formed a human barrier, skillfully maneuvering to keep the encroaching media at bay, preventing them from getting too close to Alise.
Amidst the chaotic chorus of voices, a woman's piercing question pierced through the tumultuous clamor, reaching Alise's ears. "Miss! Is it true that you massacred your friends?" The words hung heavy in the air, fueling the frenzy around her. Before Alise could gather her thoughts to respond, the woman was abruptly pushed aside by another reporter, desperate to seize the opportunity. "Is it true that you skinned and hung your friend in the hallway for your own fiancé to see?" The accusations hurled at Alise were vile and grotesque, each word a dagger aimed at her already fragile psyche. She could only mutter a feeble denial, her voice drowned out by the boos and curses emanating from the crowd of onlookers. The glares of the townspeople bore down upon her like a weight, their collective judgment casting a shadow of guilt upon her trembling figure.
