5
85%童
The room was silent as the computer made a distinct ding sound. A pop–up message appeared on the screen:
“No matching records found in the database
Everyone froze. Without a match, identifying the victim just became infinitely more
complex.
It wasn’t as if they could DNA–test the entire population of Bayport.
Floating nearby, I let out a quiet sigh of relief. I didn’t know why, but at least for now, my identity was still hidden.
Vanessa frowned. “Still no missing person reports in the last two days that fit this case?”
“None that match the details we have,” a young officer replied.
“And the surveillance footage?” she pressed
“Unfortunate timing–the cameras on that street were out of service. The city’s just now replacing them.”
Her lips tightened. “What good does that do us now? Fine. I’ll reexamine the remains and see if I missed anything.”
Mom, you’ve already scoured every inch of what’s left of me. You won’t find anything
else.
My mutilated body was beyond recognition, practically reduced to decomposing fragments.
As expected, she returned empty–handed. After several days of relentless effort, Mom ran on fumes, her strength and focus nearly depleted.
She slumped in a chair, closing her eyes as her mind replayed twenty years of professional experience.
H
85%1
Revenge killing. There are no missing persons reports.
Does this victim have no family?
Why such brutality against someone so young?
Random act of violence? No evidence pointed that way.
The perpetrators had destroyed every piece of the victim’s clothing, taken the head, and even disposed of the phone.
This was either a meticulously planned crime or the work of seasoned criminals.
A professional hit? Unlikely. Professionals didn’t indulge in such excessive violence.
Her thoughts were interrupted by her phone ringing, the sound jarring her already frayed
nerves.
She rubbed her temples before answering. “This is Vanessa. Who’s calling?”
“Mrs. Hartman? This is Peter Landry, Elijah’s teacher. Today’s the final deadline for college applications. Elijah hasn’t submitted anything yet–is everything okay?”
Peter’s voice carried a tone of concern. “He has such strong scores. He can apply to some fantastic schools. I hope he hasn’t given up on himself.”
Mom froze momentarily, then replied irritably, “I told him I wouldn’t allow him to apply to law enforcement academies. If he wants to choose something else, that’s his business.”
Peter hesitated. “I’m just his teacher, but I’ve watched Elijah grow. He’s worked so hard. He wants to follow in his father’s footsteps. Derek was a hero. It’s only natural for Elijah to see him as a role model.”
Mom’s voice turned sharp. “What do you know about it? Was it your father who died? Your husband? Your son? Don’t you dare tell me what’s ‘natural. Your opinions are just words. For us, it’s bullets and knives.”
Her voice cracked as she continued, “Let me make this clear. I don’t care if Elijah doesn’t go to college. He can work a job for all I care. But I will never let him become a cop. End of
22:19 Thu, Mar 13 A
discussion.”
She hung up, her hands trembling.
Is she… worried about me?
I couldn’t be sure. Her coldness and hostility over the years made it impossible to believe
she cared.
Mom buried her face in her hands, saying nothing, shedding no tears.
Suddenly, an officer burst in, waving a USB drive excitedly. “We’ve got something! A
critical lead!”
Everyone in the room gathered around.
“What did you find? Tell us!”
The officer was beaming. “While canvassing the neighborhood, we discovered a resident
with a balcony camera pointed at Shadow Creek Alley. We’ve got footage from the entire
week!”
“Well, what are you waiting for? Play it!”
Hands scrambled to plug in the drive. Seconds later, grainy footage filled the screen.
It was a stormy night, rain pouring in sheets. The alley appeared deserted–until a lone, slender figure stumbled into view.
That was me.
Hovering nearby, I leaned in. Honestly, my memories of that night were so hazy I wouldn’t have remembered without the footage.
Detective Sam Boone frowned. “That’s likely our victim.”
The figure–me–swayed slightly, not bothering to shield himself from the downpour, and
22:19 Thu, Mar 13 AG.
пер
- in.
Behind me, several shadowy figures emerged, following at a distance.
I was oblivious to their presence, trudging forward without realizing the danger closing
The group eventually surrounded me. The footage didn’t capture their words, but their body language was clear–aggressive and threatening.
One of them shoved me. I held my ground, clearly tense but unyielding.
The first blow came from one of the attackers. I blocked it and countered, shoving him
back.
The others rushed in, trying to overpower me. I fought back with surprising skill, holding
my own for a while, to their surprise.
But as the fight dragged on, their frustration grew. One of them pulled a knife and plunged it into my lower back.
Everyone watching the footage tensed. Even cringed at the memory.
That knife ended it. My strength drained, and I became defenseless against their kicks
and punches.
The myth of heroes walking away after being stabbed–fighting through their injuries? It was just that, a myth.
I was no hero. Just a normal person, brought down with a single wound.
Onscreen, they sneered and jeered, mocking me as they struck. The rain drowned out most of their words, but it was clear they relished my suffering.
At one point, I fumbled for my phone, trying to make a call.
They noticed immediately, kicking the phone away and escalating their violence.
The footage continued for over half an hour. By the end, they seemed to tire of beating me. One barked an order and dragged me toward Riverside Millworks like a discarded rag
22:19 Thu, Mar 13 A
doll.
A dark trail of blood followed us down the alley, stretching nearly a mile.
When the video ended, the room was heavy with silence.
The officer who retrieved the footage swallowed hard. “That’s all we’ve got.”
Nobody spoke for a long moment.
I’m sorry for causing so much trouble for everyone.
Detective Boone finally broke the silence. “Did we recover the victim’s phone?”
“No. There’s no trace of it at the scene,” someone replied.
“Check local pawn shops. See if anyone’s tried to sell
