FILE #001: A Walk To Bellemiere's Park
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"TWO MORE men have reportedly vanished this week, last seen at Bellemiere Park. That brings the total to 48 people missing-all last seen in the same location..."
"Lola, stop watching the news about that. You're just scaring yourself," said Johann.
"You can't blame me, apo. A lot of people have been going missing for the past ten months, and Bellemiere Park is only a few miles from our home—it's terrifying."
Fear was written all over his grandmother's face.
"Not a single body was ever found, Lola. Maybe those people just decided to leave the city and are living their lives somewhere else."
"It's better to be safe than sorry. That's why I've been telling you to stop going to that park. You might be the next one to vanish—especially since all the missing people are men," she said firmly. Johann let out a deep sigh and gently comforted her.
"La, you know I love that park. The people there accepted me, even befriended me. Nothing's going to happen to me, I promise."
His grandmother gave up. She knew there was no way she could convince her grandson to stop going.
He grabbed the remote and was about to turn off the TV when his grandmother stopped him.
"Wait—"
"Just in! One of the missing men has been found. The victim has been identified as 19-year-old Adrian Galvez. His lifeless body was discovered by a civilian who had been camping in the woods of Bellemiere Park. Authorities now confirm that the missing individuals were all victims of a serial killer still on the loose..."
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One Week Later
JOHANN WAS out working at the café near his home. He'd been exhausting himself to keep from thinking about the recent loss of his grandmother. Grief clung to him like fog. He felt numb.
All he could think about was going back to Bellemiere Park after work. He wanted to play chess with the elderly men there—to breathe fresh air and escape for a little while.
"One Spanish latte, please."
The voice pulled him out of his thoughts. He looked up and froze. A woman stood at the counter, and he was instantly captivated. She was tall, with a round face, a short bob cut, and a few tattoos that Johann found irresistibly attractive.
He handed her the order as she turned to leave the café. Something inside him stirred. He didn't want this moment to pass.
She stepped outside and reached for a cigarette—but didn't have a light.
Johann saw his chance. He grabbed the lighter from his pocket and walked toward her.
"Hey," he called out.
She turned to him with a confused look.
"Need a light?"
To his surprise, she smiled and took the lighter from his hand.
"Thanks."
"Johann," he introduced himself, extending a hand.
She shook it and replied, "Estella."
They stood there, talking for a while until she finally said she had errands to run. Before leaving, they exchanged numbers and agreed to go on a date the next day.
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The Next Day
JOHANN WAS thrilled. He made sure everything was perfect for their date.
By 5:30 in the afternoon, they were walking side by side. The date had gone perfectly—filled with laughter and shared glances.
Before heading home, they agreed to take a stroll through Bellemiere Park.
As they walked, Johann glanced up. The sky was getting dark. The path looked different now—like they had lost their way.
Suddenly, Estella stopped walking.
He turned to look at her. Her eyes filled with emotion—sadness, anger, something he couldn't name.
"What's wrong?" he asked. Genuinely confused because of Estella's weird actions.
Then, her tears fell. She dropped to the ground, hugging herself, sobbing uncontrollably.
"Hey, what's wrong? Are you okay?" he asked, still standing in front of her.
Her lips trembled as she whispered:
"You're the killer, aren't you?"
Johann froze. His lips parted, his eyes widened.
"W-wha— how did you know?"
He was in awe. No one had ever figured it out before. All his victims died without knowing who he really was.
Estella's crying turned desperate.
"A-are you going to kill me?" Her voice shook with fear as she stared at him, pleading silently.
Johann's face went completely blank. His expression faded into something cold and unreadable.
He looked down at her and said, in an emotionless voice:
"Yes."
And just like that, he pulled out a hammer and struck the back of her head—once, twice, again and again—until he was finally satisfied.
Blood soaked the ground beneath her.
He looked up at the sky and muttered:
"Don't worry. I think you'll be the last. I promised Lola I'd stop at 50 after I made her the 49th. HAHAHA"
It was true—he had grieved. He had cried. But he also got tired of her constant nagging. So, one night, he stopped her worries by ending her life.
"I think 50 is enough. Hmm... Should I turn myself in? What do you think, Estella?"
Silence.
He frowned and looked down at Estella's lifeless body.
"Oh. You've already stopped listening," he said, disappointed.
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† END †