The rain's coming down in sheets, heavy enough to make the streets glisten under the flashing blue lights. I stand in the middle of the crime scene, feeling the cold seep into my bones as I take in the latest victim.
Nina, 25, just like the others. The same age. The same brutal fate. I look down at her body, a stark contrast against the darkened alleyway where she was left to bleed out. This time, though, there's something different. A shift. A feeling gnawing at me, deep in my gut. I crouch down to examine the scene, trying to keep my focus, but the weight of everything pressing on me is suffocating.
The body's been placed carefully, almost reverently. And then I see it. A small object, tucked beneath Nina's limp hand, half-hidden by her fingers. I almost missed it, but there's something about it that stands out—a piece of jewelry, an old necklace. It's broken, the chain snapped like it's been yanked apart in a hurry. I pick it up, my fingers trembling slightly as I turn it over. It's a charm. A silver pendant. But what makes it so familiar is the engraving. The initials.
I.J.
I feel my heart thud in my chest as I freeze. I know those initials. I've seen them before, a long time ago.
"I.J." It's Ivy's. It was her pendant. The same one she wore around her neck.
I look at Nina's body again, and suddenly everything shifts. This isn't random. This isn't just another victim. There's a connection here, one I can't ignore.
I stand up, wiping my hands on my pants, my mind racing. This isn't just a serial killer picking random victims. This is personal. Very personal. The killer didn't just target Nina because she was 25—they targeted her because she was somehow linked to Ivy. Maybe they were friends. Maybe they had a deeper history. But either way, this is another link in the chain. Another piece of the puzzle.
---
The investigation continues in the same chaotic pattern as always. I try to keep myself together, but every time I close my eyes, I see my brother Damon's face. I see his smiling, carefree expression before everything fell apart.
I feel the darkness creeping in, the weight of the past pressing down on me. I've never fully dealt with Damon's death. Not really. He died when we were both 25, and that moment shattered me—just like it shattered the killer. And now, standing over Nina's body, the realization hits me harder than ever.
I've been chasing this killer, but there's something eerily familiar about their motives. They're not just out for revenge; they're out for something deeper. They want closure. They want to relive the moment of betrayal they experienced at 25. That's what this is all about. That's why they target people of the same age. They want to fix what broke them.
I step away from the crime scene, my head spinning with the implications. Every victim, every clue, it all ties back to a single moment in time. A moment when everything fell apart for the killer. And that moment is tied to 25. Not just a number. A memory. A broken memory that continues to haunt them, driving them to kill.
---
I walk through the precinct, my mind lost in the storm of connections and revelations. There's too much to process, too many things I still don't understand. And then I hear it.
Vera's voice, sharp and clear, cutting through the haze.
"Miles, you need to see this."
I turn to find her standing by a bulletin board, her finger tracing a list of names, dates, and photographs. I walk over, trying to keep my head on straight, but everything feels like it's spiraling.
She looks up at me, her face hard. "The victims. They're all connected in ways we didn't realize. There's more to this than just the age. The trauma is the key."
I look at the board, the faces of the victims staring back at me. Ivy. Jack. Nina. And then, I see it. A pattern I hadn't noticed before. Every one of them—every single one of them—had a history with someone who was close to the killer. A friend. A lover. Someone who betrayed their trust.
It's all coming together now. The killer's not just a victim of circumstance—they're a victim of betrayal. Someone close to them shattered their world at 25. And now, they're trying to make everyone feel that same pain. They're hunting people who are the same age, who might have experienced something similar. But it's not just about the victims anymore. It's about the killer's past.
I can feel the pieces clicking together in my mind, but the weight of it is too much. The parallels between the killer's trauma and my own are impossible to ignore. I lost Damon at 25. The killer lost someone—someone they loved and trusted—at the same age. And just like me, they never healed. They never moved on.
The rage, the pain, the confusion—it's all the same. We're both broken souls, lost in our grief.
But while I'm still trying to make sense of the past, the killer's already moving forward, picking up the pieces, setting their plan in motion. And with each murder, they're coming closer to finding what they're looking for.
Closure.
---
I sit down at my desk, the weight of everything pressing on my chest. I can feel the walls closing in, my past and the killer's intertwining in ways I never thought possible. Every move I make, I can't escape the nagging feeling that the killer is me. They're not some monster. They're someone who's been broken, just like me. And every time they kill, they're trying to put themselves back together.
I look at the board, at the list of victims and connections. Nina was just the beginning. The killer's still out there, and I can't let them slip away. Not when they've made me a part of this twisted story.
I swallow hard, my breath shallow. I need to stop this. For them. For me. And for everyone else who's ever been broken by betrayal.
But I'm not sure I can. Because this killer isn't just hunting people—they're hunting themselves. And that's something I can't fight.
Not yet.