Today, I woke up with anticipation and anxiety swirling within me. It was the day of the highly anticipated press conference, and I was determined to be at Steven’s house before the eager press arrived.

As I made my way to the venue, I felt unease, knowing that this conference always brought forth a barrage of challenging questions, some without any answers. Flashing cameras greeted me as I entered the conference room. I maintained a blank expression, hiding the panic that threatened to consume me entirely.

“Good morning, ladies and gentlemen,” the organizer announced, commencing the event.

“Today, I have invited the investigation’s leader to shed light on the grave issue that has afflicted our peaceful city of Springs. You may pose your questions to the detective.”

People clapped their hands as I made my way to the podium, where I would face the looming sea of flashing cameras and curious eyes. The room erupted with overlapping voices, but it soon settled into a semblance of order.

A black reporter raised his voice above the rest. “Detective, are all these cases related?” he inquired. With a serene calmness, I replied, “Yes, these cases are all connected, committed by a single individual.”

The crowd murmured as another question was hurled at me. “Detective, have you ever encountered this elusive killer?” This time, a white, beefy reporter spoke. “No,” I responded, my voice steady, “Our perpetrator operates in the shadows, leaving no trace.”

The inquiries continued, probing deeper into the mind of this deranged serial killer. “When do you think he will cease his madness?” a voice from the crowd questioned, tinged with concern and fear. “I am sorry,” I admitted, “I do not possess the answer to that question. All I can do is advise you never to walk alone during these uncertain times.”

The room was filled with heavy silence, and I felt the weight of their expectations hanging upon my shoulders. Suddenly, the room erupted into chaos. A reporter at the back cried in pain, a knife thrust deep into his chest. My attention snapped to the figure behind him, a man dressed in a perfectly fitting black suit and wearing a chilling rabbit mask. Despite his eyes being hidden, I could feel his gaze burning into me, a dare to take action.

Now my brain was overworking itself; the killer was in front of me and was staring at me. So, I then did the first thing that came to mind. I took out my gun and pointed it at the guy. I press the trigger with all my force. I shot him multiple times, and he could not survive, no matter what. I stopped when I realized that I had finished.

Everyone had ducked down, and only one person was left standing. All my years of learning how to maintain a blank face were for nothing. My face screamed shock because that guy was still standing and gazing at me. He then took out one bullet and put his hand in there. It was full of blood and went to the wall and wrote Wendy.” Everyone was shocked, like me. He then left the room while everyone looked at him, terrified.

Once he was gone, I ran outside, and what I saw made me sick, and I fell to the ground, defeated.



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Chapter 1: Adventures of Detective Martin

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