1
Tears leaked through the fabric of the blindfold, soaking it as I was yanked forward through a corridor that stank of rot and despair. The floor squashed beneath my feet—thick with mud, blood, and something far worse. Every step echoed with the cries of the damned—some pleading, others long since hollowed out by suffering.
Suddenly, we halted. A rusted metal door groaned open, its hinges shrieking like a creature awakened too soon. Without a word, I was hurled inside like a ragdoll. I hit the cold floor hard, my knees buckling as my body collapsed in a pile, breath knocked from my lungs.
The door slammed shut behind me, and the heavy clang echoed through the space. Footsteps approached—slow. I flailed against my restraints, muffled pleas escaping through the gag that silenced me. Fingers—rough and unkind—ripped away the blindfold, exposing a bleak room: mold-streaked walls, a single flickering bulb, and a rotting mattress at the center.
The masked figure—tall, cloaked in shadows—lifted me with an eerie gentleness, cradling me as if I were a bride. He laid me down on the mattress and, without hesitation, secured my wrists and ankles to the bedposts. My breath came fast and ragged as the gag was yanked free. A big old, “Fuck you!” spilled from my lips—wild, furious.
But before I could finish, a brutal slap cracked through the room, stealing the wind from my lungs. “Watch your mouth,” he hissed, his voice low, almost amused. “You’re not in charge here.”
He moved with unsettling calmness, retrieving a bucket of water and gently wiping at the cuts on my skin. That made my stomach churn. “You were difficult to catch,” he muttered, as if speaking of a hunt. “But I wanted you whole. Intact. That was the challenge.” His tone turned gleeful, savoring the moment. “Now that you’re here… we can begin.”
I spat more venom, calling him every foul name I could imagine. He merely chuckled. Then, in one swift movement, he seized a fistful of my hair and yanked my head back, pressing a butcher knife against my throat.
“I like that fire in you,” he whispered darkly. “But don’t get confused. I’ll enjoy breaking you… piece by piece.” He grinned behind the mask. “So settle in, sweetheart. My home is your home.”
And with that, he turned and left, locking the door behind him. I lay in silence, the cold seeping into my bones, and finally, the tears came again—silent and endless—as the memories of how this began surfaced.
~ A Few Weeks Earlier ~
I leaned against the control panel, arms crossed, foot tapping in irritation. The actors on stage cried in exaggerated sadness. They’d rehearsed this scene a dozen times, and still, their crying sounded more like dying cats than actual pain.
Up on the balcony, the director glanced at me, smirking at my impatience. Clearly, he could sense my mood. He gave a nod and started gathering the scripts—finally deciding to call it a day.
Thank goodness. I’d planned to get off early and catch up on sleep, but they’d stretched this rehearsal far too long. My ears couldn’t take any more melodrama.
Just as I began wrapping up my duties, a voice shouted my name. I barely turned before a body slammed into me, sending me sprawling across the control panel. Lights above the stage sparked and flashed chaotically.
“Seriously, Ells?” the director groaned from across the room. “Try not to destroy the equipment.”
“Sorry, Henry!” I said, brushing myself off. I turned to the culprit. “What the hell, Evan?! You tackled me like a linebacker.”
My brother adjusted his jacket, hoping I’d laugh it off. But I was already heading toward the dressing rooms, ignoring his puppy-dog eyes and the sound of his hurried footsteps chasing behind me.
He acted like he didn’t know the building, like he hadn’t been here dozens of times before. He should’ve been on a date with Brandon anyway. But of course, Evan said Brandon was late again. No surprise—he’s always late. Our parents were already fed up, and honestly, Evan should be too.
As we turned a corner, I accidentally bumped into someone—and suddenly, something rained down from above. I yelped, startled, only to realize— panties? Dozens of them. My eyes didn't even have to glance up to notice John standing there.
He shrugged with a smug grin, lifting a large cardboard box for me to see. Scrawled across the front in thick black marker were the words “FAN MAIL.” The box was big—too big, especially considering it was addressed to him alone.
He chuckled as he set it down, tapping the lid with a finger. “Found it on my dresser after rehearsal,” he said casually, as if it were no big deal. “Wasn’t expecting it. Didn’t ask for it. Didn’t do anything to get it—this time, anyway.” His tone hinted at past mischief, but this time he played innocent.
I dust myself off then wiped whatever got on me on my brother's shirt. Evan jumped as he didn’t want to catch anything from those underwear. I said the same thing which is why I was passing it on.
“Neither do I,” I replied, wrinkling my nose. “Anyway, John—what’s the plan for next week’s tech run?”
He readjusted himself as he told me about the lights needing an upgrade. The boss wanted it to be smooth and bright on stage when there is a solo scene. I had to think for a second as we do not have the budget to upgrade the lights. Henry needs to find something out quick before making those types of deals.
I told John I would have a breakdown tonight about how to rework the lights and the wires to make it how Henry demanded it. Evan laughed, commenting he could never handle the chaos of my job. I didn’t even argue—he was right.
When entering the dressing room, a shriek entered my ears as I noticed Eunha getting undressed and standing in her undergarments. “My bad,” I muttered, sidestepping her glare. “Didn’t think anyone was still here.”
She rolled her eyes as she started to put her clothes on. Out of nowhere, she asked if I wanted to hang out— which is odd because we are not friends or even fond of each other. She gave me her signature smirk and stated about me living with two guys and how I need a girls night once and awhile.
First of all, it is none of her business what I do at home. Everyone can’t live off of daddy’s money. I wish I had a condo downtown up in the sky. Nope, I had to take two roommates who are guys to survive with rent prices.
“Just saying, Ellie,” she continued. “Maybe if you weren’t so negative, you’d have more friends.”
I gathered my files with a shrug. “If you don’t like me, don’t let the door hit you on the way out. Goodnight.”
As soon as I left the dressing room, I noticed Evan was gone—good riddance. Let him pester Brandon with his bizarre antics. The night greeted me with a sharp chill, the cold air pricking at my skin like tiny needles. Still, something felt… off.
A heaviness lingered in the air, subtle but undeniable. I paused, scanning the dim parking lot, but saw nothing unusual. Maybe I was just exhausted—my nerves fraying from the day. Shaking it off, I turned toward home.
By the time I reached my neighborhood, the clock read 11:34 PM. The streets were eerily still, cloaked in an unnatural silence—until a sudden flash of red and blue lights cut through the dark like a siren’s scream.
Curiosity sparked, and I broke into a jog, drawn toward the pulsing red and blue that fractured the night. As I neared, the flickering lights revealed a thick crowd clustered on the sidewalk, their voices low and uneasy. I pushed through the tangle of bodies, heart pounding—and then I saw it.
Blood. It was everywhere—splashed across brick walls, smeared on tree trunks, pooling in the cracks of the pavement. A woman’s body lay twisted on the ground, limbs contorted, eyes staring blankly into nothing. Lifeless. Silent. Gasps and hushed whispers rippled through the crowd:
“This can’t be real…”
“Who would do something like this?”
“Not here… not in this neighborhood…”
I staggered backward, stomach twisting, and barely made it to a nearby trash bin before the nausea overtook me. As I hunched over, breath shallow and eyes stinging, something metallic caught my attention—half-buried beneath torn paper and food wrappers. A glint. I reached in, hesitating for only a second—and froze.
A severed ear. Pale, bloodied, and still wearing a delicate silver earring that sparkled under the flashing lights. My breath caught. I stumbled away, heart hammering in my chest, just as a pair of officers turned and locked eyes on me.
“Hey! You—what did you see? Why are you here?”
Their voices came quick, clipped, and full of suspicion. But I couldn’t speak. I couldn't think. My thoughts were a blur of horror and disbelief.
Who does something like this—and in the open? This wasn’t a back alley or abandoned lot. It was a well-lit, public space. No effort to hide the body. No attempt to clean up. Just raw violence, on display. A message? Or a mistake?
I didn’t know. But one thing was certain—something was terribly wrong. And this was just the beginning.
