Testament of Lies

★

Police sirens blared as the rotating light bar added elements of sorrow to the already horrific scene.

Beyond the yellow barricade tape lay the decapitated body of a man in the garage, tucked under his car. He was missing his right arm, both legs and a chunk of skin from the left side of his face, all cut with surgical precision.

The sound of my heels clicking against the ground echoed as i wore my gloves, taking a zip lock plastic bag with me before entering the premises.

The reason why someone will do something so brutal remains incomprehendible. He lives in a relatively isolated ground, fairly similar to me, with almost no neighbours.

"His name was Freddie Jones, he lived alone and we have no clue about his family, correct?", i confirmed aloud to my colleague Mike, who took notes as I talked.

"There seems to be no evidence left behind. Either the killer is experienced or really carefu-."

"There's a gunshot wound in the side of his head." I gently move his head to the side, giving Mike a better view as he took notes, "The possibility of him being held at gun point or shot unexpectedly is considerable. Send the body to forensics with the instruction to check for a bullet and test for intoxication. Present temperature, 25°C, incomplete body parts and he lay still under his garage car."

Suddenly, I get his queasy feeling at the bottom of my stomach, my back burning slightly like someone is watching me intently.

That sounds stupid because a lot of people are outside and Mike is looking at me as well. But this feels different, weird in fact. More intense.

I shake my head and shrug off the feeling, looking back into the window behind me.

A thick dense forest is what I was met with, with crows perching on the tree branches occasionally.

The forensics doctor who was meant to be present at the scene isn't on duty since he left with the sheriff for a case out of town, so I have to take on his job.

The forensics doctor personnel put the body in a body bag, before placing it in the coroner's van and driving off to the forensic pathology facility.

We moved on to explore the rest of the house, looking through the rooms, kitchen and bathrooms. Every thing seemed oddly arranged, spotless even.

The passage to the garage seemed normal as well. The only place out of the ordinary was the garage where the body was found.

"What if the murder didn't take place in the garage?" I stopped to look at Mike, "I mean, there's no blood...apart from the stains from amputated body parts. Plus he has a huge forest behind his house."

Mike nods, "You're on to something, but no jumping into conclusions too soon. It's possible he was murdered elsewhere and brought inside."

"Have we checked security footage?", I ask, finding my way to the control room down stairs, pushing the door open as Mike trailed behind me, "He sure has a shit ton of camera's around his house"

Just beside the door was a wall lined with guns and weapons of different sizes, although the columns for some of them were empty.

"Damn, what was he preparing for? World war three?" Mike joked, sitting on the swivel chair facing the large flat screens as he tried to access the garages footage a day before his death.

Again, I felt a chill down my spine like someone else was with us despite just Mike being there. I felt extremely uneasy all of a sudden, rubbing the goosebumps sprouting on my arms.

It could just be stress. I mean today had been really crazy. Or maybe I'm the one going crazy?

Apparently, a storm occurred a few days prior and broke the cameras facing the garage and front porch.

Strange.

"We don't have any leads here so far so I think it's better we check the NID for some info." I suggested, leaning back on the hard wood door as I began twirling my curly hair between my fingers, a habit I picked up when I'm lost in thought.

"Yeah, but it's getting insanely late now. We need to drop by at the base with the report." Mike said before standing up, "You over work yourself and you rarely smile. You look better when you're smiling."

I stared at him blankly for a bit before speaking, "We need to drop the report, I'll check the data base for any useful info."

I knew Mike liked me for a while, well over a year but I've avoided that topic religiously.

I don't want any distractions and I genuinely don't see him as anything more than a colleague. I know for a fact that we aren't going to work out so it's better to stay colleagues than live with gut wrenching awkwardness at work.

Taking the report, we move outside, telling the cops surrounding the area that we will continue the investigation tomorrow.

Unlocking my car, a metallic grey Lexus ES, I drive off.

-

I arrived at home, a lake front house in which I live alone. It was quiet as moonlight shone on the lake, reflecting on the little ripples, just how I like my life— Calm and drama free.

Setting the grocery bag on the counter, I keep the ice latte I ordered in the fridge, ascending the stairs.

Striping off my clothes, a warm scented bath was exactly what I needed right now. My ginger-red curly hair stretched in the water, the warm fluorescent light creating a serene environment.

My curls have gotten frizzy again, it's time to redo my routine.

It had been one heck of a day. The sudden call, the murder report, the other pending cases... I sigh reaching for my towel.

After stepping out of the bathroom, i changed into my pyjamas and turned on my laptop. Being a high ranking criminal detective, naturally i have access to database records.

"Freddie Jones...." I mumble to myself as I type, going through quite a number of Freddie Jones before finally seeing his picture.

Clicking on his info, it revealed that he used to work as a government official a while back and he has a spouse, Jenna.

The few people living around that area disclosed to that they got divorced a while back and apparently Jenna became a nun at a Catholic church approximately 45 minutes away from where i live.

Maybe I can meet her tomorrow to ask if she knew anything about the murder or if he had any enemies.

After taking her phone number and the church address, i shut down my laptop for the night and went to bed.

I've always wondered what goes on in the twisted minds of serial killers, ending lives without remorse and disposing of bodies like flies.

Do they feel guilt? Is it an urge? An impulsive decision? Do they have someone they care about? It's nearly impossible to tell, because most times during interrogation, they don't tell the truth.

I sigh, turning to my side. Staring at the moon before my eye caught a small black object lay on the window sill.

I could have sworn it wasn't there when I came in,

"What the fuck?" I abruptly sat up, pulling out a pen from underneath my pillow. I slowly reach out, poking at the object with a pen until it fell on the bed.

To my greatest surprise, it was a magazine– a gun magazine. I dropped off my gun at the CID to get a new one tomorrow.

Most importantly, I never leave weapon parts on my windows and it sure as hell isn't mine.

This means...someone could have broken in.

My heart rate increased significantly at the thought of having an intruder.

Placing my foot on the soft rug, i dragged the other one along with it, suddenly more aware of my surroundings.

I picked up an iron bat from beside my bed and carefully crept down stairs. Although the bat would be utterly useless is the intruder was with a gun, at least if i was to die, i wouldn't die unarmed.

The house was silent as usual, with only the occasional cricket sounds. Nothing was out of place.

I walked on my tiptoes, looking in every direction expecting to see someone or even something- but there was nothing.

I lowered the bat slightly after going through the kitchen, living room and hell even the sunroom, yet there was nothing.

"Then where the hell did that shit come from." I muttered to myself in confusion, sitting on the couch.

-

The next morning came by in a haze, the warm bright sunlight peeked through the blinds and birds chirped along the lake. It was the beginning of autumn after all.

I barely slept last night, being paranoid until it was almost five in the morning.

I woke up with heavy eyes, feeling a hangover level headache even though I didn't drink. Guess that's what two hours of sleep does to you.

Slipping into the bathroom, I quickly brushed my teeth, took a bath, and dressed up, deciding to wear a black thigh length skirt and a white corporate button up with Margaux demi's. Not having time to do my hair, I just pulled it back in a bun.

Taking three granola bars and an iced latte from the fridge, I drove to work. I had to drop off some of the documents and report my recent findings.

At the base, the reports where turned in to the colonel since the sheriff was out of town for a bit, while actively avoiding running into Mike in the process.

"I discovered a bit about him. He was a government official about for a considerable amount of time, he has a wife named Jenna and she's currently a nun at a Catholic church and I want to ask her about his death to see if she has any helpful information, I believe the news has already reached her." Sliding the report over as I explain to him.

He nods, "You never disappoint as usual. Be careful."

I nod back, picking up my bag to leave.

"Off to the church I guess." I settle in my car, reversing out of the building. Saying that feels weird since I haven't really been to a church in over three years.

I do believe that a God exists, I'm just not really sure which one. My family are Christians but I haven't really been to church since college.

Driving past New York's extravagant buildings and small shops, a sense of calm washed over me.

Maybe it's the breeze or people going about their daily lives but it's refreshing to see how colourful the world still is.

Soon enough the gates of "ST PETER'S CATHEDRAL" came to view, a statue of Jesus stood in the middle of the water fountain at the entrance.

I parked my car outside, not wanting to drive inside.

My purse hung loosely on my forearm as I strode down the marble path. I didn't know where to go or if she'll be there at that moment.

Just then, an older man, seemingly an usher, squinted his eyes when he caught sight of me.

"Welcome to Saint Peter's cathedral, we are happy to have you here." He said with a bright smile as he approached me, he held out a scarf, extending his hand towards me, "The women here are expected to cover their heads miss. How many I help you?"

I took the scarf and wrap it loosely around my head without thinking much of it, "I'm looking for Mrs Jenna Louise. I believe she's a nun here."

I caught the hint of suspicion in his eyes, but his smile didn't falter, "What do you need her for, if I may ask?"

I pull out my ID and badge, "I work with the FBI. I need miss Jenna to tell me what she knows about her late ex husband."

His eyes widen for a split second before he spoke, "She's actually at work now but she'll be back soon. The compound is relatively empty today, so would you like to wait for her or come back later?"

I check my watch, it's still one in the afternoon "I'll wait for her, thank you."

"Have a blessed time." He says before returning back to the narthex.

It's still one in the afternoon and he didn't specify when she'll be back, so I might as well pass time.

I step into the cathedral itself, feeling strange because I haven't been to one in a while. The huge crystal chandeliers hung high on the ceiling, creating rotating circles once in contact with light.

The wooden benches where arranged in neat orderly rows, giving a gap in the middle leading to the alter.

There was cross on the pupit, probably left by the priest.

Then—that sensation, a prickle at the back of my neck. A hauntingly identical sensation to what I felt back at the crime scene yesterday.

I turned.

It was a man, his legs where crossed at his ankles

His face looked strikingly familiar, yet so foreign. He had dark eyes and an eyebrow scar, that looks all too... particular.

Then it hit me, my voice seized in my throat as I look two steps back.

"No...no, It can't be..."I whisper to myself, barely recognizing my own voice.

Corvin Ashthorne.

A small smile, no a smirk, lifted the corner of his lips that disappeared as soon as it came- Yet he remained in place.

I had convinced myself we'll never meet again. After I struggled to push the guilt to the back of my mind, he shows up unexpectedly.

He looks insanely different now. Instead of the tall lean kid with thick glasses, there's a huge bulked up man with onyx eyes and even darker hair.

"I'm bored." He expresses in an uninterested tone out of the blue, his resonant voice echoing against the vaulted ceiling.

His eyes hallowed me out like he could see the rot beneath my skin. His entire composure was calm while my heart hammered against my ribcage.

I wanted to speak but I couldn't. It felt like my throat was being tied down and tugged at continuously.

The smell of sandal wood and spicy cinnamon invades my lungs as Corvin walked up to the alter where I was and placed something on the pulpit. The cold-looking metal gleamed beneath the crucifix.

A gun.

"I was lenient enough to tell you the game before hand."

My stomach dropped at the instant realisation. He had managed to successfully sneak into my house without a single trace of him.

"I never agreed to anything" My voice cracked.

"And who said you have a say here?" He puts four semi-automatic pistols on the alter, "The rules are simple, you pick a gun and fire at the other person, some may be loaded some may not. If the bullet hits you, you lose." He explained casually, like he isn't talking about a game of life or death.

"I'm not doing this." I pick my bag and turn around, needing escape this confinement as soon as possible.

"If you take another step forward I'll blow your head off." He said lazily, spinning the last pistol between his fingers.

Turning around, clenching my jaw, "You don't tell me what to do."

He kept spinning the pistol between his thumb and index finger, expressionless.

I turned back, trying to move, trying to prove I wasn’t afraid—

Then heat ripped past my ear.

I stop in my tracks, my ear was starting to sting and a few drops of blood fell on my forearm.

He just grazed my ear.

"That was a warning. Next time, I'll ensure it's lodged in your brain stem." He threatened so calmly, yet he didn't seem like he was bluffing, "I give you five seconds to get back up here. Five."

"What the hell man, I already said I don't want to play." I tried to keep my voice in check, clutching my bag.

"Four."

"You can't be serious. Either of us could be fucking killed!"

"Three."

I take a deep breath, reluctantly moving toward the alter. I stand directly opposite him, biting down on my tongue to not say anything.

"We may begin. Ladies first of course."

The corner of his lips lifted slightly, like he didn't just try to end me.

I stretched my hand, taking a pistol from the table. I aim it at him and pull the trigger.

It was empty.

I put the gun down as he picks his up. Round two.

He aims it at me, flicking the trigger while staring right into my eyes. It felt like he was testing my fear and it sure as hell was working.

Does dying in here mean I'll go to heaven?

That will genuinely be the only good outcome if my life ends here.

He presses on the trigger and my whole body stiffens.

Luckily, it was empty as well, only the smell of sulphur oozed out before he dropped it back down.

Only two pistols are left, meaning one of them if not both, is loaded.

They all look alike and it's nearly impossible to tell which one's loaded. So I pick a random one and prayed for the best.

Deep down, I hoped it was loaded, because it's either he dies or I do.

I position it right between his eyes, I drew air into my lungs and tightened my shoulders.

It felt like my heart was beating in my brain.

I pull the trigger and to my greatest dismay— it was empty.

My heart thumped rapidly, like it was about to break through my ribcage. That could only mean, the last one was loaded.

He picked up the last pistol on the table with amusement dancing in his eyes but no visible emotion on his face.

I shut my eyes, I won't even get to say goodbye to my family. All because I came to investigate further.

Suddenly I heard his footsteps get closer despite my being eyes closed, "Look how fucking scared you look, just how you where yesterday."

My eyes fly open as I'm now face to face or rather face to chest with him.

I take a step backwards and he follows. I couldn't move backwards anymore because of the wall behind me.

He tapped the gun twice on my forehead, slowly trailing it down to my chests.

"You claimed I raped your friend right?" Corvin raises a brow, moving the muzzle to my nipples.

I could feel how cold the barrell was, my nipple's stiffening under the chilling torture.

"I thought you did, I didn't expect her to lie."

He traced the barrel along my stomach, stopping just above the waistband. The weight of the gun felt wrong — heavier than it should, as if it carried more than steel and powder.

"Then I should just fuck you right here so it won't be a thing of thought anymore." Corvin says, unhinged

"Then you'll go to jail again." If he wasn't with a loaded weapon, I'll have punched his smug face.

"How would I go to jail if you have no evidence?" He moves his leg forward, nudging my thighs apart.

He strokes his knee on my core and my breath hitches for a split second.

I drove my fist into his stomach, and he staggered just enough for me to swing toward his jaw.

But before I could register the moment, his hand shot up. In one swift motion, he yanked down my scarf and looped it tight around my neck.

The air was sucked right out of my lungs. I gasped for breath as the fabric bit into my skin.

"The next time you do that, I'll ensure I tie you down and ruin your body till you won't be able to look at yourself." He pulls the end of the scarf tighter till tears fill my eyes from my inability to breathe.

I claw at his hands, scratching the solid muscles but he didn't budge.

He tightened his grip while he continuously rubbed against my cunt. A weird sensation pooled at the bottom of my stomach, an electrifying feeling shot straight through me.

I could feel how damp my thong was getting, my body already betraying me.

The crucifix hung above us, a silent witness to this outrageous blasphemy.

"Ah, look how much of a disgusting touch starved slut you are. I bet you're fucking soaked if I move your panties. Fucking disgusting."

The constricted feeling of the scarf around my neck and his constant stimulation to my core built up nerve wracking pressure in my stomach.

Since when was I into choking? And by someone who I'm sure fucking hates me?

I feel my muscles tighten and my thong is literally drenched, the cathedral seemed to shrink in size.

Corvin takes a step back and turns around with his hands in his pockets, then he just... leaves.

My back remained glued to the wall, unable to phantom what just occurred.

But one thing is certain. All I feel towards myself is absolutely revolting repugnance.