GOLDEN HEADLINES

82: Doctor

"W-WHO ARE YOU?"

Alessia's breath was ragged as she stood frozen, surrounded by the lifeless bodies that seemed to close in on her. Her heart pounded so loudly, it drowned out every other sound in the room.

Her eyes darted wildly, searching for any way out. That's when she saw it—a wooden vase sitting on the table near the window.

"I need to get out... I need to get out now," she muttered, her voice shaking as tears streamed down her face.

Summoning every ounce of courage, she darted toward the vase, her hands trembling as she grabbed it. The weight of it felt solid, grounding her in the midst of chaos.

Alessia turned to the nearest window, its glass pane reflecting the horrifying scene behind her.

She didn't think. She couldn't afford to. With a scream, she hurled the vase at the window with all her strength.

The glass shattered into jagged shards, the sound piercing through the suffocating silence. Cold air rushed in, carrying with it a brief sense of relief.

She didn't wait. Ignoring the shards scattered across the sill, Alessia climbed up, her bare feet scraping against the glass.

A sharp sting made her wince as a piece cut into her palm, but she didn't stop.

Alessia ran through the dark streets, her breaths ragged and uneven, the cold air biting at her skin.

Her mind raced faster than her feet, the horrifying thought replaying itself over and over: Everyone who touched the case was dead. Everyone except me.

The images of the lifeless bodies flashed before her eyes—Zaiden, Mabel, Lana, Dane. All gone. Their deaths weren't accidents; they were warnings.

"Why am I still alive?" she whispered to herself, her voice trembling as her legs carried her forward. "W-Who's doing this?"

The streets felt deserted, eerily silent, as if the world had turned its back on her.

She could feel it in her gut: there were people out there, watching, waiting—for her to join the others. For her dead body to show up like all the rest.

She clenched her fists, ignoring the sting of the cuts on her palm. "No," she muttered under her breath. "I won't let them get me. I won't give them the satisfaction."

Her thoughts spiraled. Every step she'd taken in the case had led to this moment. She'd uncovered too much, poked holes in the wrong shadows. The Golden Orchid wasn't just a case anymore—it was a curse.

Alessia's feet stumbled as her legs grew weak, the world around her spinning. The events of the night played like a haunting reel in her mind—Violet's maniacal laugh, the lifeless bodies, the blood. It was too much.

Her breaths came in shallow gasps as her chest tightened. Fear gripped her so tightly that her body started trembling. Her hands clutched at her sides, but her strength was waning.

"I can't... I can't do this anymore," she whispered, her voice breaking. Her vision blurred as tears mixed with sweat.

Her steps slowed, and her knees buckled. The alley seemed to stretch endlessly in front of her, the shadows twisting and mocking her. Every sound—every creak, every whisper of the wind—felt like it was closing in on her.

Alessia's heart raced, but her body felt heavy, as if weighed down by the fear and anxiety coursing through her veins.

The edges of her vision darkened, her strength giving way to the overwhelming terror. Her mind screamed at her to keep running, but her body refused to obey.