THE UNEXPECTED KILLER [G!P]

Chapter 24

She couldn't help but recall the horrific images of the young dead bodies, thinking how it could've been with them living the rest of their lives happily. Alive. She couldn't help but clench her fingers, feeling an emotion she had not felt in a very long time.

Becky Rebecca Patricia Armstrong felt anger.

She turned off the voice recorder hastily, barely breathing quickly enough to be unruffled.

"Is it about playing god?"

A sadistic smile curved up Freen's lips, undeterred by the venom in Becky's tone. No words were spoken.

"Deciding who gets to live and who doesn't?" Becky gritted. "Or is it because you see something in them? Something that reminds you of your past?"

Freen tilted her head, battling Becky's heated stare, before rising up on her feet.

Déja vu.

"Bold," Freen's silk voice rang softly.

Becky closed her eyes in an attempt to block the sound of Freen's cold voice approaching her direction.

"Bold looks good on you, Rebecca."

Becky kept her body still, composure unbroken, refusing to give Freen power over her. Freen already wielded enough as it is.

"Do you remember what I asked you that day?" Freen hummed, twisting Becky's insides. "I asked you if you appreciated art."

Freen's honey eyes morphed into a pair of dark, crazed ones, sending Becky's brain into a frenzy.

"You said you did."

All of a sudden, a piece of paper was slammed down in front of Becky with a startling force.

"What do you see?" Freen mused.

"A rose."

And it indeed was one, a beautiful one at that. It was flamming red, the hues painted on it so aesthetically, so expressive to the eye. No doubt, created by the devil herself. For a moment Becky's breathing normalised, relieved at Freen's words only building up to present a mere painting. But her body stilled as she heard Freen laugh again. It was different than any sound than Becky had ever heard before. It was chilling to the core.

Becky watched with her breath held, confusedly, as Freen flipped the paper upside down. And just like that, all the missing pieces of the jigsaw, fell together. Becky watched, as the beautiful rose turned into something so vile.

The core of the rose now resembled a faint figure. The petals now, a bed of viscous blood. A woman in her own pool of blood.

"Look around you Rebecca. It's all art."

Becky found her courage slowly withering away, every ounce of the dauntlessness fading, leaving her body shivering in her seat.

"Every blood spilled, tells a story," Freen bent down, gazing straight at Becky's face from across her. "The contrast of red against the dull cement, the smell of fear and copper against their expensive perfume, every little scream and plea for survival, all of it is more captivating than you could ever imagine, little kitten." Becky could feel the lunacy radiating off of Freen's smirk.

"So inspiring."

Becky refused to meet the Freen's maniacal eyes, instead, keeping her watery gaze fixed at her quivering hands in her lap. She almost didn't even hear the nurse entering the room, scanning Freen's bed, unlocking the cuffs.

Almost.

Becky heard their footsteps moving over towards the direction of the bed. She didn't dare look up.

"The death of a beautiful woman is unquestionably the most poetic topic in the world," Freen's voice sounded from across the room.

That was the last thing Freen heard in the ethereal voice of the monstrous being, before a loud familiar creak sounded, indicating that the door had been open wide for her to leave.

Bringing an end to her nightmare.

For tonight.

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