Chapter 1
I can get away with anything.
Slumped against the wall, he sat in a pool of blood, his body weary from the struggle. The air was thick with the metallic tang of iron, mingling with the sour scent of sweat and fear. His breath came in ragged gasps as he surveyed the lifeless body nearby.
"Still so much to do," he muttered hoarsely, the weight of his words reflecting the exhaustion in his bones. Gripping the corpse by the ankles, he dragged it across the floor, leaving a trail of crimson in his wake.
The journey felt endless, each step heavier than the last, as the elusive destination seemed to slip further from his grasp. Finally, he stopped, turning into the dimly lit gallery of what appeared to be an auditorium. With a grunt, he heaved the body onto the stage, the thud of its lifeless weight reverberating through the empty space. He stood there for a moment, catching his breath, before turning to leave.
As he ascended the stairs and made his way toward the main gate, a beam of light suddenly sliced through the dark, landing on him. A guard stood frozen, his flashlight trembling in his hand. The beam flickered over the intruder's blood-soaked clothes, and the guard's eyes widened in horror.
"Stop right there!" the guard shouted, his voice cracking with fear.
The intruder, clad entirely in black, said nothing just a menacing smile that sent a shiver through the guard. Panic surged as the guard fumbled for his radio, threatening to call the police. The intruder's smile widened, his eyes gleaming with psychotic delight. He took a step forward, and the guard stumbled back, retreating behind a glass door, locking it with trembling hands.
From behind the glass, the guard watched in terror as the intruder advanced, his smile unwavering. But as the lock clicked into place, the intruder paused. He tilted his head, almost amused by the guard's fear, then waved mockingly before turning and disappearing into the shadows.
The guard collapsed against the door, gasping for breath. Fumbling with his radio, he reported the incident in a panicked voice. "Name?" the dispatcher asked.
"David Lister," the guard replied, his words tumbling out in a rush. He described the blood-soaked intruder in detail, his voice shaking with every word.
Meanwhile, Sergeant Daniels arrived at the scene, following a blood trail that led to a teacher's office. The room was a disaster, books scattered across the floor, blood smeared on the walls, and an overwhelming sense of chaos. He took a steadying breath, forcing himself to focus. "Call forensics and backup," he ordered, his voice steady despite the unease gnawing at him.
The young officer beside him nodded, his face pale as he made the call. Daniels turned to him, his expression grim. "Where did the blood trail lead?"
"To the auditorium, sir," the officer replied, his voice barely above a whisper.
Daniels radioed the guard. "Is the guard still down there?"
"Yes, sir!" came the immediate response.
"Send him up to the second floor."
"Sending him right up, sir."
The trail led them to the school's theater, where the bloodstains stopped abruptly. Daniels flipped the light switch, and the stage was illuminated. His breath caught in his throat.
"Oh no… Look," the young officer whispered, pointing to the stage.
A body lay in a pool of blood, its lifeless form stark against the bright stage lights. Daniels felt a wave of nausea, but he forced himself to remain composed. "Don't touch anything," he said sharply. "Where's the forensics team?"
"On their way, sir," the officer replied.
Daniels sighed, running a hand through his hair. In all his years on the force, he'd seen his share of brutal crimes, but this was different. The carelessness of the killer was unsettling footprints everywhere, signs of a struggle, and no attempt to cover his tracks. It was as if the killer wanted to be found or simply didn't care.
"What a psycho," a voice said behind him, pulling Daniels from his thoughts.
He turned to see Gabe, the lead forensic investigator, descending the stairs in full protective gear. "Took you long enough," Daniels said, his tone dry.
Gabe shrugged, his assistant already snapping photos of the scene. "I had my team check the office first. What a mess."
Daniels joined Gabe on the stage, careful to avoid contaminating the scene. "Have you seen anything like this before?" he asked.
Gabe knelt beside the body, examining it with a practiced eye. "Many times. But this is one of the messiest I've seen." He turned the body over, revealing the extent of the injuries. The victim was a large man, his size explaining the struggle and the blood trail. "The killer must be strong," Gabe remarked, pointing to the stab wounds. "He had to work hard to land these blows."
Daniels frowned. "Any idea what killed him?"
Gabe nodded, gesturing to a deep wound on the victim's neck. "This is the main cause of death. It's deep enough to cause significant blood loss. The rest of the wounds are superficial probably from the struggle."
Daniels sighed, surveying the chaotic scene. "This is going to be a long night."
Later, in the quiet of his bathroom, the killer stood before the mirror, steam clouding the glass. He wiped away the condensation, revealing his reflection, clean, unmarked, and calm. The memory of the guard's terrified face flashed in his mind, and he chuckled softly. It had been a perfect scare, nothing more. He had no intention of harming the guard just a little game to keep things interesting.
He stepped into the bedroom, cluttered and messy, and retrieved his phone from the table. With a few quick taps, he sent a message: "It's done." He waited for confirmation, then powered off the phone and settled onto the bed. As sleep claimed him, a faint smile played on his lips. The night had been a success, and he couldn't wait to see what came next.