Phantom Strings

23:00

I've decided to take a late-night walk. My head hurts, and the red on my hand is not washing away. I bite my lip, harder and harder. Till it draws blood. Inhaling the fresh air, there are not many people around, I look up into the sky and see a woman.

Eyes closed. She's trapped in a metal cage, my brows furrow. The metal bars are wide apart enough for her to easily walk out. Why isn't she? She keeps pacing around, corner to corner, her long hair covering everything. I want to reach out to her, but I can't. Why can't I?

Her eyes are black—completely black. No white. I gasp. Blood spills from them as she begs to be let out.

I open my eyes, distress consumes me. My breath quickens and I swallow. Just follow the path Saraphina keep walking. A thought floats into my mind, "What if I go to a place. Used to death. The area in the back. I know it's unsafe, it's filled with druggies, murders, drug lords. All people who's thrown out morals for a hefty price." I scoff, look where it's got them.

They traded their minds for madness. Pathetic.

I take the path to 'the quaint town', the area.

As I walk down a road no one in their right mind would choose, I begin to see the shift in people—the transition from expensive outfits and the scent of wealth to shabby rags and the stench of unwashed bodies.

But most of all, I smell blood.
Blood and fear.
My nose has grown used to the scent of fear. Hell, at this point, I can sense it.

11:53.
I spot my first crime scene—blood splattered all around a dumpster, something covered in cloth eerily shaped like a human body. Flies buzz around it. No one's even bothered to give them a proper send-off. Another reason to turn back, but my legs don't listen.

They carry me down the familiar path until I'm standing across from a huge metal door in a dark alley.