❝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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My bloodied feet took steps to follow the trail of blood inside the kitchen. I gasped. A body of the mistress sprawled on the floor with her mouth hung open and terrified, paralyzed eyes; like she witnessed the very last thing the killer did. Sharp and gleaming knife stuck in her chest. Such repulsive scene to immobilize me in tremendous shock, and watches the blood streaming down from her chest and mouth. My breath hitched when arms suddenly enveloped around my shoulders, as I instinctively gripped its hands.
"Did you like the roses I left for you?" A male's honeyed voice whispered to my ear, making my hair stand on end. His voice sounds the same to my previous kidnapper.
"Why are you doing this?" I queried in a low voice. And then, I felt the vibration of his chest pressed against my back from his chuckle.
"I hate people who get on my nerves," He answered, tightening his arms around me. I slowly craned my neck to see a glimpse of his face.
"Don't you dare to look back!" He bellowed causing me to flinch and returned my gaze back to the dead body.
Out of all still intact fingers of the mistress, there's one missing I have noticed—her middle finger. That particular vile signature known widely to the public and belongs to none other than that psychopath.
"You are indeed the notorious serial killer I presume?" I questioned, infusing my tone with wariness. Apparently, his response of sinister laugh disturbed me.
"This is why you interest me. I can't stop thinking about you ever since that day," His embrace released my shoulders and grasped both my wrists, his thumb tracing down my narrow scars.
"Beautiful scars aren't they?" He commented in glee and squeezed my wrists afterwards. "But I'm warning you again Claire, the more you play with fire, the danger will drag you more in." The killer set my wrists free and subsequently his entire presence left me.
I drew a deep breath before my body whirled around in hope to catch his identity and strangely, he's already gone. Moving on, I hurriedly went to Nora's quarters to help me sort out the recent murder. The police officers arrived after Nora called them and watched them moving her body—wrapped in white sheet—out of the house. Good thing the children weren't disturbed in their sleep from the mistress' scream. Although, resuming to my sleep was hard until the next morning.
Wanting to take a fresh air, I took a seat inside a small pavilion as I gaze across the green field. What have transpired last night and the conversation I had with the serial killer was too surreal. Mulling over that day he mentioned and the meaning behind his warning, and then I spotted him; walking towards the orphanage.
"Hoseok." I called and stood up from my seat. Thankfully, Hoseok noticed me as he beamed me a smile and jogged his way into the pavilion.
"What's wrong?" He asked with his brows knitted together. I averted my eyes away from him and sat down again in misery.
"The mistress was murdered last night," I stated, digging my nails to my skirt and curled my hands into a fist. "I feel like it's my fault."
A warm presence sat beside me and a hand was placed over mine; interlocking my fingers into his at the same time. "Don't blame yourself." He assured.
His soothing voice somehow eradicating my guilt and grief, flickering my eyes to his tender face as it compels me to tug my lips upwards.
"What's the meaning of this?" A penetrating voice interrupted us. We immediately released our hands and looked at the person with her mouth twisted into a grimace.
"Luella!" I exclaimed, my eyes widen in surprise. Luella charged towards us and eyed us in disgust.
"I can't believe you two would be this too close!" Her outrageous accusation caused me to stand up in defense to clear her misunderstanding.
"Rubbish! He was just comforting me." I clarified with assertiveness. However, Luella scrunched up her nose and shook her head, seemingly not believing my words.
"And you there," She pointed with her folded fan at Hoseok beside me. "I know you're trying to flirt with her smoothly. Know you status sir, piss off!"
The photographer did complied, standing up and about to leave when my hand clutched his arm—stopping him, shaking my head deliberately for him to stay.
"No, it's fine." He removed my hand and eventually left us. I whipped my head to my best friend, furious.
"Why did you do that?"
"Claire, can't you see the difference between us and to him? You and your family have a noble title to just easily let that bloke hit on you. Besides," She paused, her eyes following his figure on the green field. "I don't trust him at all. I have a bad feeling about him." No words then came out from my mouth, but to stare at my best friend—perturbed—whether I acknowledge her hunch or not.
Two days later, Nora and I are on our way to home as my father assigned a new mistress to take in charge of the orphanage. In the midst of busy street, a crowd gathered again near an alley. I overheard their whispers about a murder of a noble lady; carrying a name I fully know. My heart drummed so hard by every second of uttering excuses and pushing past the gaping and mortified crowd before I finally see Luella's body; gruesomely pinned to the wall.
Shock waved through me, seeing her neck struck with a large metal nail. From it, her blood drizzled through and it tarnished her once elegant dress. My legs weakened and knelt down in distraught. My body went in frozen state and cannot bare to take my eyes off from her. There's something written boldly with her blood on the wall beside her, a phrase from a dead language that would burn in my mind.
