Murder Case #201

CHAPTER 3-MURDER CASE VICTIM

"Kira!"

Detective Ace's loud shout makes me squint my eyes. Lesia and I are both shocked and stand there staring at the woman's body hanging from a strong rope.

Blood flows continuously from the woman's body, dropping onto the floor like a never-ending race. The smell of it is overpowering and can be detected from a distance.

Lesia stops Ace from touching Kira's corpse, while I lean against the wall, trying to support my weak knees as I gaze at the victim.

As I carefully examine her, a chilling realization crawls up my spine. Her chest has been brutally torn open, revealing a cavity devoid of a beating heart. The absence of such a vital organ fills the air with an eerie sense of dread.

To compound the horror, her once graceful limbs have been savagely severed, callously strewn around her lifeless form. The sight of her dismembered hands and feet tossed haphazardly, sends a wave of revulsion crashing over me.

There it is—the mark II on her forehead, dark and eerie. It stands out unmistakably, a clear sign of something evil. Its presence is a chilling reminder of the unimaginable cruelty unfolding.

"I'm sorry, Kira. I failed to arrive on time," I said, clenching my fists in frustration.

No tears come to my eyes, for this scene is no stranger to the depths of my imagination. It replays relentlessly, mirroring the horror that unfolded mere hours ago. The raw emotions resurface, as vivid and intense as before.

"Move aside!"

"Step aside!"

I turn to the source of the voice. The police have arrived. Lesia pulls me out of the room where the crime is taking place. I look at the room number and chuckle. The label on the door reads R#201.

I can't feel my heartbeat now. It's as if I'm floating in the air. I leave the crime scene without speaking to Detective Ace or Lesia.

With a heavy mind and aimless steps, I traverse the world, burdened by the weight of witnessing murder cases through my ears. Each victim I fail to save adds to my deep sense of regret. I feel like a zombie, disconnected and helpless in the face of tragedy.

Guilt gnaws at my every fiber as I carry the burden of unanswered questions. The haunting cries of the innocent resound within me, reminding me of my limitations and the lives slipping through my grasp. The weight of sorrow and despair presses upon my weary soul, leaving me feeling powerless.

In my despair, I yearn for a glimmer of hope, a flicker of light to guide me through this relentless cycle of anguish. The regret I bear is profound, as I question how many more lives will be lost before my eyes, and how many more victims I will fail to save. The weight of my failures hangs heavy upon my heart, as I stumble forward with the fervent hope that redemption will one day replace this remorse.

As the rain pours, tears finally fall on my cheeks. They flow continuously as if they have no intention of stopping. It feels like my family has died. This feeling isn't new to me, but it's a different level of pain.

With so many abilities to acquire, why did I end up with this one?

As I trudge my way from the hospital to the house, I feel the weight of the world on my shoulders. My feet drag heavily on the ground, and every step feels like a burden.

Despite the cold that seeps through my clothes, I continue to walk, feeling numb and empty inside. The thought of taking a ride no longer appeals to me.

I need to feel the pain and the coldness. It's the only way I can keep myself grounded amidst the chaos in my head.

"Mom," I call weakly, knocking on the door. She immediately opens it.

"Oh, my God! What happened to you, Lynn?" I remain silent and enter quietly. "Have you eaten? Why do you look like that? Why are you all wet?"

I respond with sobs to Mom's questions. She immediately approaches and hugs me, gently rubbing my back. "Didn't I tell you to just ignore what you hear? Listen with your right ear and let it out from your left."

"If only everyone would believe me, right? If only I could explain my ability."

"You don't need to explain yourself, my child. As for me, I know you're different from normal people, and I accept you. Come on, change your clothes and eat."

I nodded silently and walked into the room. Memories of Kira's tragic fate flooded my mind, and a wave of regret washed over me. If only I had done something, anything to save her. But now it's too late, and all I can do is carry the weight of her death on my shoulders.

"I'm sorry, Kira. Your death will forever weigh heavily on my heart," I whispered to myself.

Once I got dressed, I headed straight to the kitchen. My mother had already prepared my meal, leaving me no choice but to eat.

As I mechanically chewed, tears dripped onto my plate like an unstoppable downpour. The image of Kira's lifeless, mangled body kept invading my thoughts, haunting me with its brutality.

My heart was heavy with guilt and regret, as I wished I could have done something to prevent her untimely demise.

But I couldn't let my emotions consume me. With every bite, I fought to keep the tears at bay and swallowed the food like a bitter pill.

I needed to stay strong, to keep my wits about me in this dangerous game of life and death. So, I forced myself to finish my meal, even though my stomach churned with nausea and my heart ached with pain.

"Mom, if Lesia or the male detective comes here, please tell them that I haven't come home yet," I instructed my mother, my voice trembling with emotion. She just nodded, sensing the gravity of the situation, without asking any questions.

Upon entering the room, I retrieve the notebook where I meticulously documented every murder case I've perceived with my heightened sense of hearing.

What: Case #201.

Where: Xell Hospital.

When: 7:55 p.m.

Victim: Doctor Kira.

Perpetrator: Unidentified

It's the first time I've ever jotted down the name of a victim who wasn't being reported on the news via television or radio.

I gazed at what I wrote for a moment before closing my notebook and putting it in the drawer.

It's not too late yet. Let me start with case #201.

With a heavy heart and a troubled mind, I immerse myself in the task at hand, pouring all of my energy into creating the perfect PowerPoint presentations for my upcoming class. The meticulous preparation of handout materials is a necessary distraction from the weight of my worries that threatens to consume me.

As I work tirelessly, the rhythmic clicking of my keyboard is a welcome respite from the chaos of my thoughts. The act of creating something meaningful and tangible gives me a sense of control, even if it is just temporary.

I know that I can't let my worries interfere with my responsibilities as a teacher. My students deserve my undivided attention, and I am determined to deliver nothing but the best for them.

Each slide is crafted with care, and each handout is designed with intention. With every passing moment, I feel a small glimmer of hope that things will eventually get better.

At this moment, amidst the hustle and bustle of my preparations, I find solace. The act of creating something worthwhile brings me a sense of fulfillment that temporarily eases the burden of my troubles.

A sudden jolt of realization hits me as I glance at the clock, and to my surprise, it's already morning. The warm glow of sunlight filtering through my window confirms that a new day has arrived.

My moment of peaceful reflection is interrupted as I hear a gentle knocking on my door, followed by the sound of my mother's voice. It's a reminder that the outside world is waiting, and I need to face it, no matter what the day may bring.

"I'm just going to take a shower, Mom!" I call out before entering the bathroom.

As I gaze into the mirror, my heart pounding with fear, the reflection staring back at me is not my own. Instead, I see the bloodied face of Kira, her eyes staring into mine with a haunting intensity, as she clutches her own still-beating heart in her hand.

Desperately, I try to shake the vision from my mind, but it clings to me like a nightmare. With a trembling hand, I force myself to open my eyes once more, my breaths coming in short, panicked gasps, as I pray for the ghastly apparition to finally disappear.

I hurry through my shower, anxious to escape the disturbing thoughts, and quickly exit the bathroom.

To my surprise, I find a woman in a doctor's gown waiting for me, who then turns around to reveal Kira's smiling face. I scream and collapse to the floor.

Lesia shakes me vigorously to bring me back to reality. "Hey, Lynn! It's me," she says.

"What are you doing here? Why are you dressed like that?" I ask, trying to steady myself.

"I came straight from the lab and didn't have time to change. I came looking for you after we took care of Kira's body, but Auntie Marcell said you hadn't returned home."

Thinking quickly, I came up with a cover story. "I stayed with a friend who's also a teacher."

Lesia nods and asks, "Are you busy later?"

"I'm always busy," I reply casually. "Did you come to invite me to your station?"

"You were the only one who gave us a lead on what would happen to Kira. I'm sorry I didn't trust you," she admits.

"I have nothing more to say to you. If you want to make up for it, find the killer," I retort.

Lesia moves closer to me as I finish changing, asking, "Do you have any idea who the killer might be?"

I pause, unsure if I should reveal what I know. "Lynn, we're friends, and I trust you. It was my mistake for suspecting you before. I'll believe everything you say now, okay?"

"On one condition," I state.

"What's the condition?"

"Let me investigate in my way."

She looks puzzled, and I explain, "You didn't believe me before, and as a result, we couldn't save Kira. Not all detectives can prevent crimes from happening."

With a deep-seated desire to aid in the investigation of the doctor's heinous murder, I beseech her conscience for a glimmer of empathy and understanding.

My fervent hope is to earn her benevolent permission to partake in the quest for truth and justice, as we strive to bring the perpetrator to account for their despicable actions.

"I'll talk to Detective Ace and the other detectives working on the case," she agrees.

Ignited by an unyielding blaze within my soul, I am now infused with an indomitable resolve, ready to surge forward and embark upon the path that will ensure justice for the echoing whispers of the fallen victims.

No longer will their cries go unheard, and no longer will their killers escape unpunished. I am the voice for the voiceless, the defender of the defenseless, and I will stop at nothing to ensure that justice is served.

"About Detective Ace," I touch my neck, still feeling the pain from his attack the night before. "I'm not a patient person, especially when it comes to my dignity being violated."

Lesia nods in understanding. "I won't let Detective Ace harm you again," she assures me.

"I'll come to your station this afternoon. I'll share all the information I have," I say confidently, with a sense of urgency.

She looks at me directly, with a serious expression. "We'll be there, eagerly waiting for you. The truth is about to be revealed as the forensic autopsy report gets closer," she proclaims, creating a mysterious atmosphere.

Lesia and I burst out of the room, and to our shock, a man materializes right in front of us. His appearance is worn-out, with exhaustion etched on his face and his unsteady steps revealing his fragility, as if he could collapse at any instant.

His agony and remorse fill the air, overwhelming and intense. The weight of his torment is palpable, burdening him heavily. His anguish is evident in his face and consumes his entire being. He trembles under the weight of his emotions, lost in a relentless storm of pain. The magnitude of his guilt and suffering is undeniable, casting a somber shadow over his existence.

If only you had taken heed of my warning, Detective Ace, what a strikingly different narrative would unfold.

"Why didn't you just strike me down with a baseball bat and implore Lesia to rescue Kira?" he whispers, his voice feeble. Every fiber of my being wants to retreat from this man, but I'm rooted in place. I can't help but feel a pang of sympathy for him.

"Please, Detective Ace, take a moment to rest," Lesia interjects, attempting to reach out and support him, but he forcefully swats her hand aside.

"You knew that Kira was destined to perish, yet you failed to exhaust every possible effort to save her. Even if we opposed you, you should have fought tooth and nail for her survival." Tears stream down his face as his words tremble. "You said I should shoulder the blame for what unfolded, didn't you?"

"Ace," Lesia tries to stop him.

"You're mistaken, Ainslynn Quezon. It's not solely my fault, but ours," he utters, taking a haunting step closer, his voice barely audible. "We are both the true murderers of the woman I held dear."

"Ace!" Lesia shouts as he passes out.

"We are both the true murderers of the woman I held dear." His words echo through my soul, sending shivers down my spine until I'm engulfed in tears once more. Once again, I envision Kira's bloodied visage hauntingly gazing at us from the doorway of my room.

I am one of those who caused your demise, Kira. I'm deeply sorry.