❝Aren't you scared at all doing this?❞
❝No, I love taking pictures of them dead.❞
[WARNING: may contain graphic contents, and dark and mild sexual themes.]
|ON-HOLD|
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Coming back to my senses, something is stopping my eyes to be opened. There's a fabric cloth wrapped around my upper face. I tried to move and I found my uplifted wrists were tightly bounded by something metal—a chime of a chain was heard. My pulse quickened in fear for facing this type of dilemma and my thoughts keep reminding me possible scenarios may happen; either I might be raped or worst murder me.
"You're awake." A soothing male voice announced its presence. The voice somehow sounds familiar.
"Let me go!" I shouted, wriggling my tied up wrists in panic. Footsteps were getting louder until the sharp sound of a whip cracking made me jumped. I cried out in pain when the tip of a whip inflicted my wrists.
"What a naughty girl," He said in a low, husky voice. I sucked my breath when I felt the soft leather tip grazing the side of my face slowly going down to my neck and last, my collarbone.
"I'm just to remind you here that you stay away from him!" He hissed.
"Him?" Its tip went under my chin, slightly lifting my face. His hot breath so close to my ear; sending a tingle to my spine and said, "If you don't want to be involved, I suggest you keep your nose out of his way."
My mind then clouded with dubious questions; his voice sounded like the photographer I knew yet, this kidnapper addressing to the photographer too. So which one really is he?
"Are you the serial killer?" My voice trembled in fear. I sensed his presence moved away from me with a menacing chuckle.
"Who knows?"
"Then are you Mr. Jung, the post-mortem photographer?" No words came out from his lips as silence befell us afterwards.
I was confused to the sudden quietness while still anticipating for his reply. Instead, a clinking sound from the chain answered me and his retreating footsteps. I wriggled my wrists again and then my fingertips brushed a long thin metal—a key already linked to the chain. Quickly twisted the key; unlocking the chain and subsequently released my aching wrists, following of untying my blindfold to see my kidnapper but he isn't here anymore.
My eyes scanned my surroundings and noticed I'm somewhere in a dimly lit underground hall. I was about to proceed to the stairs at the end of the hall when trails of dark red roses greeted me—lying on the ground. I bent down and picked one, metallic stench filled my nostrils and a sticky liquid smeared my hand. A hideous feat which caused me to stand up abruptly and let the grisly rose go in shock; the rose which was once pure white but now fully drenched in blood.
