She was being dragged. Gurgling out incoherent words, she wanted to fight off the tough grip on her arms but her body lagged behind, too heavy for her own self. The alley lights flickered on and off or maybe it was just her, blinking. A bright neon sign blinded her for a moment and she quickly looked away. The urge to rub her eyes was overwhelming. Her partly cracked eyelids fought well to join the little gap between them until the point, where she accepted defeat and closed them.

Jolt of electricity brought her to her senses as a tingling resonated through her body, starting her feet. She wanted to rub the spot to ease herself. Even with her eyes closed, she felt the presence of bright lights, not much beyond her eyelids. Cold water was splashed on her face. Her eyes shot open and a scream escaped her chapped lips as every part of her body felt on fire. Another scream went off as she looked down to see her body. Her naked body had wide cuts all over starting from her chest till her feet and the burning in them was tremendous. The burn was so fierce, unlike anything she has experienced. As the splashed water dripped down her face and lips, the taste told her all: the water was mixed with salt. The burning lessened somewhat but nevertheless, was incredibly painful. Her eyes closed again as groan after groan escaped her lips.

She looked around, eyes still dazed. The fiery zeal to escape was prevalent but the ropes in her wrists had already pierced her skin and when she moved them, rather, tried to move them, they only dug deeper to induce more pain. Her dry throat failed her in allowing a scream, leaving only the gagging. She heard a heavy door shutting and the bright lights immediately shut off. The impregnable darkness seemed to shut off her brain for a minute until she felt a presence in front of her.

'Please...' she croaked out, unable to form a sentence. The stench of metal hit her nostrils as they burned in protest. A soft light flickered somewhere behind but in the light she saw a hammer being raised before it started coming crashing down on her making her close her eyes before the impact...

Emily's eyes shot wide open as she struggled to breathe, her sweat soaked sheets clinging to her skin. The thin, blue nightshirt was transparent with sweat and her heart felt as if it was about to burst out of her heaving chest. She could feel the strands of hair that escaped out of the bun tickling her neck. The silence around her was unnerving. Her eyes crossed over her exposed body parts making sure everything was unharmed. Heart still beating erratic, she let out shaky breaths. Turning on the bedside lamp, she tried leaning back against the headboard. Her heavy breathes slowly relaxed at the soothing yellow light of the lamp and the cool breeze drifting in through the windows.

Her bedside electronic clock flashed 4.50. Emily knew it would be useless trying to fall asleep again knowing she would have to wake up soon anyway. Her thoughts traced back to the last time she saw a nightmare but failed to recollect any since her high school days when Meryl Dumont threatened to chop off her hair. Before her mind could stray further into her worst days, she shook her head in hopes of returning to the present. Her mind kept trying to process the nightmare she saw. It was so realistic almost as if she were present there. The jolts of pain almost felt as if they passed through her. The details were becoming blurry as minutes passed but the sensations remained. Her body felt on fire despite the increasingly chilly wind inducing goosebumps all over body.

Her thoughts drifted far and around; to her school days, to her work from where they clustered around that one article she read randomly that dreams mostly root from whatever you think about throughout the day and finally comes out as a weird mixture of it, in your dreams. Like a light bulb going off in her head, she recalled the massive number of articles on the murder case that she had edited the entire day. Yet her nightmarish vision was so unnerving as it was contrasting. The gory images that remained vivid in her head was drastically new and unlike what she had worked on. That scared her again, a fresh series of chills travelled down her spine and she took it as a cue to stop thinking further and slid down to her pillow again.

A stream of sunlight poured relentlessly on her face that she initially tried to brush off with a grumble and a wave. Feeling the failure, she opened one eye. Unfortunate for her, that eye fell on the bedside clock instantly. A blinding red 8.34 flashed and so did Emily's silhouette that disappeared in a blur inside the bathroom, but not before crashing against the locked door once. That's when the chaos begin.

Not the criminal kind of chaos, of course. The chaotic kind of chaos, the kind that makes you hate your neighbour and throw cannibalistic plants at them. The neighbours of 302 Emily Hunter's apartment can more than attest to that. Everyday around 8.30, Emily dedicatedly wakes up late and proceeds to thrash her apartment in the process of preparing herself for the day. Mrs. Silvera of 202, one day went as far as calling the cops because she was 'sure of it, the girl above was either dead or had killed someone'; she heard very loud banging and then some screaming. When the cops managed to reach there and knocked on the door with Mrs. Silvera ready to attack with her iconic spatula, the door opened to reveal Emily with a broken hair brush sticking out of her incredible, bushy hair and a toothbrush hanging out of her mouth. Somehow that day Emily managed to send away the cops and evade a disaster. But usually around nine in the morning, Sunset Point Apartment get shaken to the core by a huge bang of door, then some clumsy, hasty footsteps down the stairs and finally, a blur of chestnut hair leaving the premises.

But somehow Emily couldn't bring herself to move from the mirror that day. Splashing herself with water again and again, she stared at her reflection. Her full cheeks highlighted the dark circles under her eyes and her curly hair fell around her like a shield. Not once did the image of the nightmare completely falter from her thoughts. The details were becoming fuzzy but the scare of it, haunted her every minute. It was well past nine. Birds sang outside and breeze wafted with the heat of the sun. The day was bright and merry, on complete contrast to her thoughts. Her phone buzzed beside her, indicating the addition to the piles of notifications she already had but never bothered checking.

On her way everyday, she had to pass by Oliver's, a small sweet shop. The current
owner of the multi-generation shop, Jay, knew her well and occasionally smiled at Emily, as she sprinted to work, making sure to wave to her on the days she had time. An old woman, his grandmother, who suffered paralysis, always sat in her wheelchair with eyes out of focus and lips trembling and uttering incoherent words. Had Emily not been an observant woman, she would have thought the same about the incoherent part. But being a regular there, she perceived a few unintelligible but coherent words sometimes - paradise, dead, wanderer and gauge. These were the words that Emily managed to understand after years of patient listening and perked up ears. The bizzare arrangement of the words stuck with her. She spoke many other words, even sentences sometimes, too though. It was, as if, a fun game for her.

Aronville, though a small and quiet town, where almost everyone knew everyone, had its fair share of glossy tall buildings as it had impenetrable woods. As the bus sauntered through the busy streets, Emily subconsciously glared at the buildings. Numerous stops passed by but all she could think of was the murder. Editing a grand total of seventeen articles the last day, still looked insufficient as she heard soft whispers and murmurs, rumours in all probability, being passed around. For once, she was grateful that she had no one sitting beside her. She pulled the hood of her hoodie further up and huddled further against the window. As fragments of her nightmare floated in her head, she shuddered at the thought that the neon sign and that alley seemed familiar.

-

"Ah, King, you're here. The forensics have just arrived. You check things here. I'll go talk to the neighbours."

Detective Liam Brown was out of the door even before he could finish his sentence and Ace King was left staring at the creaky door he disappeared out of.

"Ace! Long time no see."
A forensic official walked towards him and Ace almost cringed at the excitement in his voice. What could the man possibly be happy out? He begrudgingly replied:
"It's a good thing then. Whenever Cops and Forensics meet, it is never a merry day."
"You always have the most hilarious replies."
The man returned with a laugh and Ace couldn't tell if he was deadpan sarcastic or actually that happy.

The forensic head, Jax Kora, ushered him over to the scene. Ace had long ago gracefully accepted from learning criminology by heart and all the documentaries and books that the moment he enters the sight of a murder, bile would creep back to his mouth and he would be trying to push it back down, all the while trying to maintain his stoic poker face, pretending that nothing is bothering him. Because that's what detectives do - they pretend. To his surprise, as he entered the spot, no bile rose up. The victim had not a drop of blood leaking from her body. She had cuts all over skin which all had been stitched shut and some even bandaged. Amongst the white marble floor, the pale body almost blended well to not even be seen. The sight was downright scary. Ace slowly kneeled beside the body to see things a little clearer. This body is exactly how they found the last victim, Rachel Garlands. He remembered the uproar that  the sudden news of the murder had caused.

"Ace, there is a woman outside who demands to see the body immediately. She says her daughter hadn't come home since last night."
Liam called to Ace from the door, out of which Ace could see a small woman hysterically crying.
"Bring her in but keep away from this room. Just close enough to identify."

Liam complied, holding the door open and the old woman immediately ran inside and would have almost tumbled over the body had Ace not held her back. He sent a quick glare to Liam just as the woman began shaking like a leaf. The forensics had stopped working at the intrusion and Jax stared at them with questioning eyes. The woman slipped from Ace's arm, her loud cries echoing through the house. The murmuring outside the house increased as more people gathered outside.

"Ma'am, do you know her?"

Ace lightly shook the woman, who did not look like she could speak anytime soon. Her voice sounded raw as she wept and banged her head against the wall only to be pulled back by Liam and Ace. It took a long time for her to even utter a single word but when she did, silence spread throughout the premises.

"That's... That's my daughter!"

Ace tightened his hold on the woman who collapsed to the ground again, her wailing burning in his ears. Liam looked like he was about to faint at all the chaos. Outside numerous cars pulled up: the news channels. Ace could feel the beginning of a turmoil in his stomach and before he would lose himself in the chaos, he managed to ask:

"Her name?"

"L-Lillian. Lillian Victor."

Edited: 31st January, 2022
Another murder! What do you all think of the characters we've seen yet? Let me know in the comments. And don't forget to vote, it's free ;)