Jennifer Lynne is a homicide detective working on one of the most horrific serial killing cases New York has seen in the last decade. When she and her partner get a lead on the suspect, they catch him with his seventh victim. But things go south and...
Oops! This image does not follow our content guidelines. To continue publishing, please remove it or upload a different image.
CONTENT WARNING: strong, sexual content
The phone keeps ringing, but I can't bring myself to answer it. Nothing good would come of it, for myself or whoever the hell is on the other line.
It vibrates on the carpeted floor in the living room, the upbeat tune practically making my ears bleed.
It had been next to me. But after the fifth ring or so, I got fed up and threw it across the room. Of course, it didn't break. That would be too easy. Now, I can't work myself up to get out of the bed.
But even if my phone was lying right beside me in this bed, I wouldn't pick it up.
I've done something terrible. There are gaps in my memory when it comes to Theo and Paul. The Swiss cheese likeness gives me enough to question whether I was the one who killed them. Then came Reese, which is harder to deny. I hurt him. I remember that. But now there's no question. Not after Angelo.
It's been three days since the night Drake took me out. Since I murdered a man. Since my fourth murder. I thought if I self-isolated, kept myself away from others, I could recuperate. Lick my wounds. Heal. But it's only steeped. It sinks deeper, creating more pain and infection.
There's no escaping it. No matter what I do, I still hear the coughing and gurgling of blood pouring from his throat. And when I close my eyes, all I see is the splattered canvas and his surprised face. His mouth was shaped in betrayal and my cruel face reflected in his wide eyes. It's all I can see.
I don't want to see it anymore!
After Theo and Paul, I couldn't remember what I had done after the murder; where I went or what I did. But with Angelo, it was like I knew what to do. My legs guided me and my hands did those terrible things — stabbing him and carving into his skin... I did it all without crying or screaming or throwing up. And then when I got to Devil Lake, I fucking pulled his teeth out.
I don't know why. Jackson never did that, so it can't be the demon, can it? Is it me? That, I still don't get, and I'm not sure if I want to.
Echoing into the apartment, there's another loud buzzing. It causes me to lift my head from the pillows. That's not the phone. No, that's the call box.
Shit. It continues to buzz, ringing in my ears. I cover the pillow over my head to block it out but it makes its way through, penetrating my solace.
Then, it stops. I peek out of my covers, unsure if I'm just imagining it. But there's silence. Sweet silence. I heave a sigh and throw myself back down.
"Jennifer?" Someone says behind my front door as they knock. "Are you there?"
What the fuck? Who the hell keeps letting people into the building? Begrudgingly, I crawl out of the bed and patter into the living room. The person behind the door continues to knock, but I hold my breath waiting for them to speak.
