---
Chapter 2 - Azra's Point of View
The next few days drag on, each moment heavy with the weight of Lily's death. The precinct buzzes with the same questions I've been asking myself: Who could do this? Why a child? I push through the paperwork, drowning in the files, photos, and witness statements, but no matter how many times I review the evidence, it leads me in circles.
The room is dim, lit only by the flickering fluorescent lights that cast harsh shadows across the table where Asher and I sit. The atmosphere feels thick with unresolved grief, and I can see the tension etched in Asher's expression as he flips through a folder labeled "Lily Morris."
"This is her family's statement," he says, his voice low, almost hesitant. "They described her as just a regular kid, but she had friends—some from the neighborhood, some from school. Maybe we should start talking to them."
"Yeah," I agree, my fingers tapping nervously against the table. "We need to find out who she was with, who she might have felt threatened by."
Just then, the shrill sound of the phone pierces through the thick air of the room. I glance at the caller ID. It's my partner, Detective Markson, his voice frantic on the other end.
"Azra! You need to get to the East Side right now. We've got another one. A kid."
I feel my heart drop into my stomach. "What do you mean, another one?"
"Same profile as Lily. Brutal. I don't have all the details, but it's bad—real bad. Get here fast."
I hang up, a sense of dread settling over me like a heavy fog. "We have to go," I say to Asher, who's already rising from his seat, a look of alarm flashing across his face.
The ride to the East Side feels like an eternity, sirens wailing in the background as we weave through traffic. I grip the steering wheel, my knuckles white, as the implications of what I'm about to face begin to sink in.
When we arrive, the scene is already swarming with officers, yellow tape cordoning off an area near a dilapidated playground. The sight of the playground sends a shiver down my spine; it's supposed to be a safe haven for children, not a backdrop for violence.
Markson meets us at the entrance, his face pale, eyes darkened by exhaustion. "You don't want to see this, Azra," he warns, but I shake my head.
"I have to," I insist. I need to know what we're dealing with.
As we move through the crowd, the air grows thick with a metallic scent that turns my stomach. I finally step into the makeshift perimeter and stop short.
The body lies crumpled against the swings, the scene horrific. It's a boy, no older than ten. He's been mutilated in a way that makes Lily's death seem almost gentle by comparison. His small frame is barely recognizable, his clothes torn and soaked in blood. The brutality is visceral, a grotesque display that feels like a message, like whoever did this wanted to make a statement loud and clear.
Asher's face goes pale, his breath hitching in his throat. "What the hell…" he murmurs, his voice cracking.
I can't tear my gaze away. "How could someone do this?" I whisper, my heart racing. "He was just a child."
Markson is grim, his voice barely above a whisper. "The parents are on their way. We need to identify him quickly."
I nod, forcing myself to focus. "We can't waste time. Let's start canvassing the area. Someone must have seen something."
As we begin to gather information, the whispers of shock and fear ripple through the small crowd that has gathered. I catch snippets of conversations—people discussing the boy, recalling his laughter, how he was always playing with his friends. He was known, loved, and now he's gone, brutally taken.
Asher approaches a group of kids lingering at the edge of the playground, their faces pale with fear. "Did any of you know him?" he asks gently.
One boy steps forward, shaking visibly. "His name was Timmy. He was my best friend. We were playing here just yesterday."
The words strike me like a blow. "Did he mention anything unusual? Anyone watching him?"
The boy nods slowly, tears pooling in his eyes. "He said there was a man… a man with dark hair. He said he was always around, watching us."
I feel the blood drain from my face as I exchange a glance with Asher. "A man with dark hair…" I murmur, the familiar description sending a chill down my spine.
This isn't just random violence; it's a pattern, a predator lurking in the shadows, and we're running out of time to catch him.
"Let's gather everything we can," I say, the urgency spurring me forward. "We need to find out who this man is before he strikes again."
As the sun sets, painting the sky in hues of orange and red, I know this is just the beginning. We're up against something dark, something that wants to keep us guessing, and it's up to us to bring it to light.
---
Let me know what you think, and if you want to continue or make any changes!