𝐌𝐔𝐑𝐃𝐄𝐑 𝐇𝐄 𝐖𝐑𝐎𝐓𝐄

𝐒𝐘𝐍𝐎𝐏𝐒𝐈𝐒

‎𝐈𝐍 𝐖𝐇𝐈𝐂𝐇,── you don't truly know anyone you meet, a friend, family member, or even your love interests could be nothing but a lie.

Stepping over the caution tape, taped from wall to wall, entering the horrifically gory crime scene. Without question, Detective Wilmarie Denise could only imagine what truly lies within a merciless setting.

The victim's body sat perfectly still, stiff in a chair, blood covering the depth of her face. The scraping of her knuckles and the blood under her nail could only have given signs that the victim didn't have an issue fighting back.

On the right arm of the victim, there was an engraved crest that had been burned into her skin. It was unquestionable that this was a branding of the murderous victims that trafficked these innocent girls.

Detective Denise stood, her arms crossed deeply over her chest, listening to the shuttering of the camera. The small whispers and whimpering from the other side of the crime scene cautioned tape.

These crimes had been consecutively happening all over the streets of Manhattan. It had become something regular to her.

Whomever the killer was had no heart, and was nothing less than a monster.