𝐀 𝐧𝐞𝐰 𝐞𝐯𝐢𝐥 𝐰𝐢𝐥𝐥 𝐫𝐢𝐬𝐞
All because he met the wrong people at the wrong time, Harry Styles lost everything in an instant- including his daughter. Drowning in desperation and loss, he finds himself striking an irresistible deal with the...
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Sinister Fear
"Jasmine Perez," Mason, our unit chief, announced seriously, his eyebrows furrowing deeply. "Jasmine has been missing since last week." He announced the new information by clicking on a button on his remote and displaying pictures of the woman.
Mason, an FBI agent who's been in this department for over two decades, stood at the helm of our investigative team. Despite his late fifties, he remained one of the sharpest minds in the department. Intelligent and tirelessly dedicated, he was one of the qualities agents.
When given this case months ago, we were all determined to find this full-moon killer, but as time passed, it felt like a weight of dread. Like we were getting nowhere despite the constant new information and fucks up the killer did.
This killer was skilled. There was no doubt. But how? How can they get away with killing absolutely anyone.
My green eyes swept around the large room—it exuded simplicity but held difficulty. In the middle of the room, commanding attention, sits a sturdy round table, where we currently sit while we observe new information. The screen now displayed haunting images of the missing girl and the crime scene. a whiteboard adorned with clips and tips, serving as a visual representation of our collective knowledge and discoveries we have found.
Looking down at my personal folder with a picture of her. I sat back and tried to piece together my own information. Jasmine was a young girl. Mid-twenties—twenty-five to be exact. Her hair was long and black; she had soft, pale skin and bright brown hazel eyes. She, like many other victims, vanished into thin air. No surveillance camera captured who took her—or how she went missing. And just like every other victim, they were identical.
Something dark took them—something evil. And not a single one in this table knew what they were going through, what suffering and evilness they were facing.
It was as if the devil himself yearned for their souls to merge into one. Maybe the killer had a vendetta.
"Jasmine has been missing since last week, and now they called it in?" I voiced out, earning stares from my team.
"He's right." Supervisory Special Agent Amara murmured. "Is there a reason?" She places the tip of the pen between her pink lips, her dark brown skin glowing from the sun that enters from the wide windows. She blinks away and turns her head slightly. "I mean—why now? It's been a week."
"Yes." Mason nods. "From the information we were provided, she was known to be a runaway, ever since she was a teenager. So when friends and family couldn't find her, they immediately assumed it was happening again." He looks away for a brief second, running a hand through his gray, medium-length hair. Wrinkles appeared on his forehead when he furrowed his eyebrow.
"Why did they suddenly assume it's something different now?" Reid asks, capturing my attention. "She could just have run away, no?" The anticipation crawled up my skin—desperate for the information he wasn't voicing towards us yet.
"After a week of being gone, she would have sent a letter to let her parents know she's alive. They haven't gotten a message, and with the killer on the loose, they didn't want to risk anything." He sighs heavily, and my heart thumps in my chest aggressively.
The killer.
My stomach twisted, causing a powerful emotion within me to explode. I felt as though something inside of me was about to ignite every time the killer was brought up—like a demon was trying to get out of my throat and reveal the darkness that resided within me. Standing in the room, every person had their own darkness, and when it came to dealing with it, there was allowing the demons to overcome us or taking control of others.
For me, I was stuck at a crossroad: whether to release the demon lurking inside me or trap the demons within others.
I glanced down at the list, memories of each victim flooded my mind, including the latest one found in the desolate alley. Her image lingered, her once delicate skin now marked with haunting symbols—a testament to the horrors she endured. AnnaBeth Dominguez. The girl was found on a cloudy, dark afternoon.
