THE UNEXPECTED KILLER [G!P]

Chapter 14

Becky's pov.

I'd tried my absolute best to take my mind off a certain Brown eyed lunatic, closing my eyes forcibly in hopes of falling into peaceful slumber. But it wasn't until after twenty minutes of restless tossing and turning, that I understood— it was not the need to fall asleep that my body desperately yearned for.

It was the need to know. Know exactly what had landed Freen in an asylum, branded a psycho murderer.

Yes, it was affirmative she was a killer, and yes, I had inevitably figured out some of her psychopathic inclinations.

But before this night, my brain hadn't really laid any emphasis on what Freen had actually done. I was ashamed to admit it, but I hadn't yet looked into Freen's dossier. It was unusual for someone like me who practically finished my projects on day one, but this time things were different. An inkling of dread was stopping me from digging into it more.

Up until a few hours ago. Up until Freen mentioned something along the lines of being a 'demented serial killer'. Therefore, I sat wide awake with my laptop screen illuminating my corner of the room, going hand in hand with the faint, but iridescent moonlight.

My fingers typed away the letters of Freen Chankimha's name on the search bar, silently but surely hoping that nothing that bad would come up. But then again, who said it was going to be this easy?

When the first set of results lit up my screen, I sighed in what could only be described as part relief, part annoyance.
It was merely a bunch of Facebook profiles and irrelevant video clips. And for the next ten minutes, all I could find was even more indiscernible garbage on the internet. None that related to any kind of murders.

I clicked my tongue. Where had I heard that name?

I amended my search to 'Seoul Murder Freen Chankimha,' taking a quick sip of water as I scrolled. The bottle nearly slipped out of my grasp.

You know that unexplainable feeling you get when your stomach feels like it's being twisted into knots and the air suddenly just doesn't seem to reach down your windpipe? In a haze of big texts, only three words stood out to me.

The Seoul Ripper.

No, it can't be......I looked at the screen with my mouth agape, breathing morphing into uneven intakes.

'After a two year long chase, The Seoul Ripper has been finally incarcerated, today early morning from a shack near the Hangang Bridge. Identified as Freen Chankimha, she had been followed by a witness to her murder of Bae Suzy back......'

I stopped reading. My insides whirled as I realized, the person I had been sitting across from a mere few hours ago, was the same person responsible for the set of bone chilling serial murders that had unnerved the entire Korea a few years ago. That's where I knew that name from.

Seven.

Seven girls had been brutally murdered at the hands of Freen Chankimha.

The thought of my subject being one of Korea's most infamous serial killers had never even crossed my mind. For God's sake, Freen Chankimha ought to have been locked in a conspiracy theory-worthy maximum security prison; not some mental hospital.

I wiped the ominous droplets of sweat that had formed on my forehead, even on a night this cold. With my breath held, I began with the next few articles, delving into more details of the victims and a complete timeline of the murders.

And after thirty whole minutes of devouring every source of information on my screen, I couldn't help but notice there weren't any photos of Freen Chankimha. Perhaps it was all a ploy to keep people from knowing that the Devil's true form wasn't a hideous horned creature. It was temptation bottled in the form of a deathly sinful human.

I scrolled through more images— images of gruesome crime scenes, images of victims; yet not one photo was to be found of Freen Chankimha that would affirm her identity. Could it be that it's a different Freen Chankimha?

My conscious laughed at how incredibly stupid I sounded. But I didn't care. It was my only solace. I decided that I'd give myself the benefit of the doubt. For the sake of a good night's sleep. For the sake of my crumbling sanity.

But then, my eye caught sight of one singular picture. It was heavily pixelated, black and white, as though taken from a shabby surveillance camera.

And even in the most abysmal of picture qualities, I couldn't simply miss the same unhinged smile which graced the killer's face, that happened to belong to the person I'd sat a few measly meters away from, only a few hours ago.

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A/N: that's all for today. Finally Becky knows the true Freen or does she? Wait and find out. Until next time see yaa <3