Reborn In a Murderer’s Embrace

Colin said Stella was one of the innocent ones.

That meant Colin had an inkling of who the real murderer was–one who didn’t kill the innocent. The bedroom door swung open, revealing a void of emptiness.

Not a soul in sight.

I scoured every room in the house, but it was as if the world had swallowed everyone whole.

“Bang!”

The bedroom erupted with noise once more, this time from the depths of the closet.

Exchanging a glance with Robin, we dashed over and flung open the closet door.

Stella was bound and gagged, a makeshift prison of hanging clothes and darkness.

Thankfully, her life wasn’t in danger; she was just a bit dehydrated.

“Stella!” Robin unwrapped her bindings and yanked the cloth from her mouth.

“That bastard… he’s warning us…” Stella’s voice was tinged with shock and panic before she slumped into Robin’s arms.

“I’m taking her to the hospital!” Robin hoisted her up and bolted for the door.

I tried to follow, but suddenly, a chill raced up my spine. I whipped around, facing the portrait hanging in the living room.

A scream pierced the air.

My once beautiful ballet photo had been replaced… replaced with a photo of me, taken when the psychopath murderer posed me as a marionette in a glass display case.

Robin halted, finally noticing the switch.

They had been too preoccupied with the bedroom when they first walked in, lights flooding the dark, to notice the photo had already been tampered with.

Colin instinctively covered my eyes, his voice quivering. “Let’s go.”

I was frozen in place, my body refusing to move, as if rooted by fear. This content © 2024 NôvelDrama.Org.

Robin quickly called his colleagues, telling them to secure the scene.

“The frame… it’s dripping blood,” I whispered, trembling.

Despite Colin’s hands over my eyes, the coppery scent of blood was unmistakable.

The red dress in the photo was freshly painted with blood,

“The blood hasn’t clotted; the murderer is still nearby,” Colin’s voice was hoarse as he surveyed every corner of the room.

“He’s meticulous, calculated. He knew exactly when we’d come here, when we’d see this photo, A mind that brilliant would be lurking in the shadows, basking in his own twisted masterpiece…” Colin kicked open the bathroom door, barely holding it together.

Robin set Stella on the couch, telling me to watch over her, and followed Colin in their frantic search.

“He puts his victims in glass cases, monitors their vital signs. He’s got a mind for math, for medicine…” Colin muttered to himself, then turned his gaze to the shoe cabinet by the door.

That shoe cabinet, it shouldn’t fit an adult. But Colin moved toward it nonetheless.

“What are you doing?” Dexter’s voice, laced with irritation, filled the doorway. He had brought a crew with him, looking more like movers than anything else.

“Get out…” Colin told Dexter to back off, not to let anyone in, that they’d contaminate the scene. But Dexter’s animosity towards Colin was palpable. “This is Phoebe’s place, my fiancée, and this house is in my name now. The ones who should leave are you!”

Dexter eyed the movers. “Take all this stuff away, and be careful with it.”

“Don’t touch anything here!” Colin erupted, lunging at Dexter, ready to come to blows.

But Dexter’s bodyguards were quick to restrain Colin.

“Dexter!” Robin and I shouted his name in anger. “Don’t let them in! Protect the scene!”

But it was too late; Dexter’s men swarmed in, pushing past Colin and us.

“There’s someone in the shoe cabinet!” I watched helplessly as they lifted the cabinet, blood spilling out onto the floor.

A body, twisted into a grotesque shape, had been crammed inside.

With a “crack!” it tumbled out.

In that moment, a hush fell over everyone, followed by the sound of someone retching.

“Before it fell, the person was stuffed in there, kneeling…”

I caught a glimpse and wished I hadn’t.