27. Chapter 25

Chapter 25

Hydessa

I struggle to control my breathing as I set the phone aside, turning away from the wall and placing my hands flat on the desk. My neck prickles, the feeling that I'm being watched washes over me and I suddenly wish I could hurt someone. I want to scream in frustration.

Turning back around, I stare at the photos as a cold reality begins to sink in. Each girl, captured in a moment of apparent happiness, now feels like a haunting echo of something far more sinister.

The chilling thought that these are the very tourists I've been trying to unravel the mystery of, makes my blood run cold. Their faces now have a grim presence in my space and I want to unleash my darkness on those responsible for extinguishing their light from the world.

Forcing myself to take another deep breath, I try to quell the fury boiling inside me, reminding myself that Cain and Abel told me they don't kill innocent people. I need to stay focused. My emotions are a weapon, but only if I wield them carefully. I grab my phone and after updating the contact for them, I start documenting the wall, capturing every new photo and which blog it's connected to. The methodical process helps calm my nerves slightly, giving me a sense of control in this chaotic situation.

I send the photographs to Uncle Max in a secure message, asking if he can find out any information from them. I can't bring myself to let him know how I came across the photos and I hope he doesn't ask. I trust Uncle Max, but the fewer people who know the details, the safer everyone will be.

As I wait for a response, I decide to double-check the house's security. I move through each room, ensuring windows and doors are locked. Not that it really makes any difference, they have proven at least twice now they can get past the locks. There is no denying that this time I did not simply leave the house open for them.

The unsettling feeling of being watched lingers, making every shadow seem more ominous. I return to my office, my mind still racing with thoughts of everything now pressing down on me.

I almost jump when a notification sounds on my tablet, it's a reply from Uncle Max. ‘Received the photos. I'll see what I can dig up. Be safe.'

His brief message does little to soothe my nerves, but knowing he's on the case brings a small measure of comfort. I look back at the wall, the faces of the girls staring back at me. Each one represents a life cut short, a story that ended in tragedy. I can't let their deaths be in vain, I need to dig deeper and uncover the reasoning behind this, I need to find out why they killed these women. Is it possible that something more sinister lurks beneath these deaths.

Ignoring the message on my phone, I spend the next few hours combing through my notes and meticulously adding more information to the wall from the interactions I've had with the suspects. My lunch is forgotten as my mind buzzes with possibilities, but nothing concrete emerges. Frustration continues to gnaw at me, but I push through, determined to make sense of this puzzle.

The faces of the girls on the wall seem to watch me as I work, like that feeling now has a physical form. I start by listing the suspects again, re-examining each one's potential motive and opportunity. The names and details intertwine with the blog posts, photos, and my notes. It's a tangled web, and I feel like I'm grasping at straws.

The clock ticks away, and the shadows in the room lengthen. The eerie stillness of the house presses in on me, interrupted every so often by the normal noises of an old house. My eyes strain to read the black and white printouts, and my back aches from hunching over the desk. But I can't stop. Not now. Not when I might be on the verge of a breakthrough.

Darkness falls, and I'm forced to turn on the light to continue working. Paper is scattered everywhere with my notes, and when my phone chimes with a notification, I have to dig under some of them to find it. Hoping it's a response from Uncle Max, my stomach turns when I see it's not.

PSYCHO MASKED STALKERS

Care for a game of hide and seek, little shadow? I'll even give you a clue on where to find me.

A chill runs down my spine as I stare at the message. They're toying with me. Every instinct screams at me to stop, to pull back. But I can't. I won't. Any contact with them may lead to the answers I am looking for. With trembling fingers, I type a reply.

I'll play.

Seconds feel like hours as I wait for a response.

PSYCHO MASKED STALKERS

Good. Where laughter will soon echo and lights shine bright, now only shadows play in the dead of night. Come play with me at midnight, little shadow.

A riddle. I read it over and over, trying to piece together its meaning. The answer comes to me and my heart speeds up. The carnival grounds.

I glance at the time—midnight is only a few hours away. I mentally plan my next steps, ensuring I take my own knife with me. If this is my chance to put an end to this, even if it means putting an end to them, I have to be ready.

I take a moment to steady myself, then decide to have a quick shower. The photos on the wall distracted me from having one when I returned to the house, but the adrenaline coursing through my veins is making me jittery, and the shower might help clear my head.

I step under the stream of water, letting it wash away some of the fury raging inside me. The cool water soothes my heated skin. I allow a sense of calm to overtake me, a sense of control. I can do this, I can do what needs to be done.

As I start to put on clothes, I decide to go with the normal hunting outfit. They may already know who I am, but the black clothes and mask make me feel safe, like a shield I can hide behind.

With some time left before I need to leave, I pick up my phone again and call my sister. The phone rings twice before she picks up.

"If I hide…" I say softly into the phone. It's not lost on me that I'm about to go play the very game I'm talking about, and I'm playing the role I never wanted.

"Then I'll seek…" she responds with a sigh. There is something in her tone that makes me pause.

"Are you okay?" I ask gently, concern creeping into my voice.

"Yeah, just a lot going on. Don't worry about me," she says, trying to sound upbeat. "How's your investigation going?"

I don't want to burden her with the details of what's happening, so I keep it vague. "It's going well. I have a possible lead."

"That's great!" she replies, her voice brightening. "And have you taken the time to have some fun with a hot guy yet?"

I open my mouth to respond, hesitating for a moment. How could I tell her about the dark, twisted encounters with the masked men that I think murdered all of these girls. Or that they have now broken into my house not once but twice? Do I confess to her that being with them is the only time I have felt truly alive, that the war waged against my darkness seems to calm and I feel more like myself than I ever have?

Who am I kidding? I definitely can not disclose that I have two of the suspects stalking me and fucking me better than anyone has before. Yeah, she would send help immediately.

My hesitation must have been telling enough because before I can utter a word, she squeals excitedly.

"Oh my god, you have! Spill the details! Who is he? Is he cute? Tell me everything!"

My breath catches in my throat as I struggle to find the right words. How could I possibly explain the complexity of my situation without burdening her? I can't let her know the true extent of what‘s happening, not when I can already hear the stress in her voice.

I take a deep breath, torn between the desire to confide in my sister and shield her from what I'm dealing with. "It's... complicated," I finally manage, my voice wavering slightly. "I'm not sure it's about having fun. It's more... it's more like a dangerous game, and I'm not sure where it's going."

Her enthusiastic tone fades into concerned silence, and I can almost feel her worry through the phone. "Are you safe?" she asks softly, her voice now laced with a seriousness that matches my own.

"I'm doing everything I can to stay safe," I assure her, feeling a lump form in my throat. "But I need you to promise me something."

"What is it?" she responds immediately.

"I need you to be careful too," I say, my voice barely above a whisper. "Watch your back. Trust your instincts. Promise me, okay?"

There's a brief pause before she responds, her voice steady but something else lingers there too. "I promise," she says firmly. "And you promise me the same. Don't take unnecessary risks."

"I won't," I lie. I can't admit to her that I'm about to meet with the killers at midnight. "I'll be careful."

In that moment, I realize how much we're alike—needing each other like lifelines in the chaos and darkness, but hesitant to burden one another with our own stresses.

We exchange a few more words, trying to ease the tension that hangs between us. She manages to make me laugh with gossip from the organization, and for a moment, I can almost forget the weight of the situation I'm in.

After a while, we say our goodbyes. I hang up the phone, feeling a pang of guilt for not confiding in her, for not sharing the burden that threatens to overwhelm me. But for now, keeping her safe from this darkness feels like the only right choice.

I glance at the clock. Midnight approaches, and with it, the carnival grounds beckon ominously. I check my preparations—knife secure, mind focused, mask firmly in place. There's no turning back now.

Leaving my house through the back door, I lock up carefully, every creak and rustle of the forest making me hyper-aware. The moonlight filters through the thick canopy of the woods, casting eerie shadows as I make my way towards the beach. The path is familiar, yet tonight, it feels fraught with unseen dangers lurking in the darkness.

Moving along the darkened streets, I feel almost at home as I stick to the routes that are becoming familiar. The carnival grounds loom ahead, silent and foreboding. The signs warning people away are still in front of the gates and there is no movement beyond them.

Following the fence, I locate a side door with a note taped to it. My heart races as I read the message under the dim light of my phone flashlight.

I hesitate for a moment, the message sinking in. The chilling words echo through my mind. But I steel myself, my resolve hardening as I prepare to confront whatever lies beyond that door.

With a steady hand, I reach out and remove the note, folding it carefully and tucking it into my pocket. Trying to control the shaking in my limbs, I push forward, my breath coming out in shallow bursts despite my efforts to remain calm.

The latch clicks softly as I push open the door, the hinges barely creaking, but feeling like a loud alarm in the silent space. I step through cautiously, the cool night air swirling around me, carrying with it the faint scent of ocean spray. The carnival grounds stretch out before me. The rides somehow looking sinister in the dead of night.

My footsteps are barely audible against the soft ground as I move deeper into the area. Navigating through the dark maze of tents and attractions, my senses are on high alert. Every rustle of leaves, every creak of metal, sets my heart pounding in my chest, my eyes straining as they dart everywhere.

As I move cautiously through the vacant carnival grounds, the soft strains of music suddenly catch my attention. Neon lights flicker to life in the distance, drawing me toward a carousel that stands still and empty under the night sky. I approach slowly, the music growing louder, beckoning me closer.

Just as I near the carousel, the music abruptly stops, and the lights dim until they fade into darkness once more. I pause, my heart racing, trying to make sense of the eerie sequence. Before I can gather my thoughts, another melody begins to play, this time from a different corner of the carnival.

I follow the new music, my footsteps light and deliberate as I navigate through the empty tents and rides. The lights guide me, promising answers just out of reach. But as I approach the source of the music, it too falls silent, leaving me standing in the quiet darkness once more.

After it happens a third time, a chilling realization dawns on me: I'm being manipulated, moved around the carnival like a pawn on a chess board. Each musical cue, each flicker of light, is designed to lure me exactly where they want.

I pause, my senses on high alert, scanning the shadows for any sign of movement. Another burst of music and lights draws me towards another corner of the grounds. This time, I ignore it, heading in a different direction instead. I want to see what they will do when I refuse to play the way they expect.

Creeping through the carnival rides, I'm moving around the center when the lights suddenly blare to life around me, momentarily blinding me after the intense focus on navigating the shadows. A chilling laugh pierces the air. I whirl around to see a figure perched on a table several yards away, his red neon mask making him look like the devil. His knife glints menacingly under the lights.

His deep modulated voice makes me suck in a sharp breath, taunting and menacing. "Little shadow, you aren't playing along like a good girl," Cain drawls, the words dripping with malice. My heart races, adrenaline pumping through my veins as I stand my ground, defiant.

"I'm not your good girl. I don't want to play this game," I retort, but even through the voice manipulator in my mask I can hear the strain. "Those girls deserve justice."

His laughter rings out again, a sound that seems to echo endlessly through the empty carnival grounds. "They will get justice, darling, but not tonight," he replies calmly, the edge of his knife tapping ominously against the table. "Tonight, we play."

I scan the surroundings cautiously, wondering where Abel is hiding, but Cain's next words answer me before I even ask. "It's just you and me tonight, darling girl."

"I'm not playing your games anymore," I declare firmly, my stubbornness flaring as I narrow my eyes at him.

"Is that so?" he taunts, and in an instant, darkness envelops us. The lights, including the eerie red glow of his mask, vanish. My breath catches in my throat as I strain to see through the impenetrable blackness.

Then, Cain's mask lights up again and before I can react, he lunges toward me with startling speed. Instinct takes over, and my body springs into action, fight or flight propelling me. He won't get to me easily this time.