In a twisted game of cat and mouse, a young woman becomes dangerously entangled with a masked serial killer she has been obsessively stalking, leading to a bizarre and clandestine relationship that blurs the line between prey and predator.
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THE SOUND OF my alarm clock wakes me up. It's 6:30 AM.
I've always been an early bird, just because I don't want to miss a thing on my day. Because everyday, is my day.
I try to sit up, then stretch my arms, but I halt immediately. My arms feel sore.
I just rub my eyes, and a yawn escapes my lips. Though, it's only a matter of seconds before my yawn turns into a dry groan.
My throat is sore too. Like... very sore.
I put my hand on my neck to massage it gently. And yet again, I'm interrupted. It's not because I have felt another body part being sore, but because of the shock from the sight of a long red ribbon lying next to me on my bed.
My breath hitches. My blood rushes up to my cheeks.
Holy shit.
I quickly get up and dash toward my dressing mirror. I stand in front of it, scrutinizing my reflection.
My white nightdress is blotched with drops of blood that has now been dried. My chest is marred with tiny slim cuts and bruises around it. But as I get closer to my mirror to see, those are not just any bruises from any force or whatnot; they come from a long and wild sucking on my skin by a pair of lips. I frown. Hard. These are fucking hickeys. But there's one thing that outshines them the most: the handprints around my neck forming a vibrant mixed hue of blue and purple; an obvious hint of strangulation.
Rage gathers up inside me as my hands clench into fists. He placed his dirty hands on me and assaulted me. It wasn't just some simple nightmare that I thought I would easily wake up from. It's real...
🎀
"I'm here live at Newmont Ridge, District 4, in which three people had met their gruesome deaths." States the lady reporter in a yellow coat, standing in front of the Whitmans' house. The happy color of her coat is such a stark contrast to the gloomy mishap she's reporting.
The camera pans out to the police already crowding the place, investigating the bloody crime scene and interviewing the neighbors close to the area. "...The bodies of a married couple, and a police officer lay scattered across the house, mutilated beyond recognition. The investigators quickly ruled out robbery as a motive, as nothing had been stolen from the house last night. This led them to conclude that the attack was purely motivated by a desire to inflict harm and suffering on the victims. The police are still searching for a suspect and are currently under investigation."
I was correct. I knew that officer was done for as soon as I saw his jacket on the Rabbit, doused in blood.
"...With the rising count of violent killings and home invasions around the city, it is best to lock up your doors and windows as night falls."
I brush my fingers along my black hair as I bit my lip hard, until I taste a little bit of blood in my mouth. I feel like I'm the murderer's accomplice for leading that police officer to his death because of the tip I gave. But also, I don't think I would be able to sleep at night if I didn't even try to call for help for the married couple I witnessed being tortured. But it doesn't matter now. The three of them are dead....
