YOU HAVE TO SEE ME

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Summary

A city sleeps in fear. Somewhere in its shadows moves a killer unlike any other... obsessed not with blood, money, or revenge, but with eyes. Each victim is left behind with crystal orbs in their sockets, while their real eyes vanish into jars, preserved like trophies of worship. To the police, he is a ghost; to the press, a nightmare; but to himself, he is an artist, perfecting his masterpiece one gaze at a time. As the body count rises, ACP Mansi Rathore is drawn into a deadly game of cat and mouse. The killer leaves behind cryptic clues, taunting the investigators with every move, daring them to understand his twisted vision. The city demands justice, the police demand answers, but the question hangs heavy... are they chasing a man, or something far darker? With every failed lead, the line between hunter and hunted blurs. No one is safe.. not the innocent, not the guilty, not even those closest to the case. Because the killer doesn’t just take eyes... he sees everything. The clock is ticking. Will the city save itself before his masterpiece is complete, or will the Eye Collector claim his final gaze?

Status
Complete
Chapters
54
Rating
4.8 4 reviews
Age Rating
18+

PROLOGUE

Hi Readers,

Thank you for stopping by my story. This novel is a journey into the darkest corners of obsession, fear, and the human mind. It’s not just about a killer... it’s about what happens when desire turns into madness.

Your reads, comments, and theories mean everything. Let’s dive into this nightmare together... you and me, one page at a time.


They call him a monster. He calls himself an artist. Eyes are his canvas, fear is his brush. Every chapter you step into will take you closer to his masterpiece. But beware... he’s always watching.

Are you ready to see through his eyes?


In the stillness of night, he moves like a prayer unanswered, a phantom obsessed with what others take for granted... the eyes. Each victim is left hollow, sockets carved with devotion, as if he worships the stolen gaze more than the soul it once held. He preserves the real eyes in glass jars, trophies glistening in the dark, while a cold crystal eye is placed near the corpse like a mocking signature. To the city, he is a nightmare without a face. To himself, he is an artist perfecting his masterpiece, one pair of eyes at a time. The question remains... can the city shield itself from his devotion, or will the police catch him before his ritual births a catastrophe too horrific to imagine?



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