His eyelids fluttered, heavy as lead, the aftertaste of blood and chemicals choking his throat. For a moment, he thought it was just another nightmare. The straps cutting into his wrists told him otherwise.
Darkness pressed against the edges of the room, but faint voices drifted closer. Muffled at first, then clearer.
"Basements—over here!"
"Careful, check the corner!"
His eyes widened. He tried to scream, but the gag still bit into the corners of his cracked lips. A door creaked open, flooding the dungeon with harsh white light.
Two men descended the stairs—detectives, flashlights cutting through the shadows. The beam hit him directly, and one of them froze mid-step.
"...Oh, my God."
The other followed the light, jaw tightening. He pulled down the gag, only to recoil at the stench of dried blood and rot.
The teacher coughed violently, his body convulsing against the belts, stitches pulling at every spasm.
"Water—get water!" one barked, though his voice trembled.
A plastic bottle was tilted to his lips, but most of it spilled down his chin. His words came out broken, wet, desperate.
"She... did this... she... she—"
"Who?" the detective snapped, leaning close. "Who did this to you?"
Tears blurred his vision. He wanted to say her name, to spit it out, but his body shuddered violently. Pain lanced through him like fire. Every word was a razor in his throat.
"She was... just a... student..." he rasped. "No one... will believe me..."
The detectives exchanged a grim look. One of them pulled out his phone, speaking into it quickly:
"Subject located... alive, but in critical condition. Severe mutilation. Send medics, now."
But as the call ended, the other detective couldn't tear his eyes away from the grotesque tapestry carved into the man's body. Surgical lines. Stitchwork precise, almost artistic. Not rage, not chaos—this had been careful. Deliberate.
He shivered.
This wasn't just an assault. This was a statement.
The teacher began to sob, his body shaking, stitches threatening to tear.
"She said... I'd... remember... every... breath..."
The detective's gaze hardened. For the first time, he saw fear not just in the victim's eyes, but in the way the basement seemed to breathe with secrets. Whoever had done this wasn't just punishing. They were perfecting.
And somewhere out there, she was still free.
YOU ARE READING
The Last Conception
Mystery / ThrillerNightfall reporting - there's a killer who is murdering all the mans in town, reason yet to be discover but believe to be mentally sick and need urgent treatments before the killer cleans out all the ugly man. I am not saying they are ugly but surel...
