ALL ALONG I WAS THE SERIAL KILLER, BUT THEY NEVER KNEW

The man in the chair still breathed—barely. His head slumped forward, a dark trail of blood dripping from his temple onto the concrete floor, pooling beside his feet. A flickering light above buzzed like a dying insect, casting his shadow against the cold, peeling walls of the abandoned basement. She stood before him, calm, silent, the red-stained scalpel glinting between her fingers like a secret. Her eyes didn’t blink. “Tell me again,” she said, voice soft. Almost sweet. “How old was she?” The man wheezed through split lips. He couldn’t speak. She crouched, leaning close until her breath touched his ear. “You see… I know. I saw the videos. The files. The faces of those girls.” A sob sputtered from his throat, but she wasn’t moved. She reached for the small leather notebook beside her, flipping to a page marked with a photograph—his photo. Scribbled underneath: “David K. – Child Trafficker. 12 confirmed victims. One escaped. Still walking free.” Not anymore. She rose and walked around him, her boots echoing. There was no rush. She'd done her homework. Weeks of surveillance. Fake social worker visits. Hidden cameras. Each time, he opened that rusty warehouse door and thought no one saw—she did. He wasn’t her first. And wouldn’t be her last. She slipped a thin wire from her coat pocket. His eyes widened. That was the part she liked most—when they realized. “You preyed on girls who couldn’t speak for themselves.” Her tone remained gentle, almost pitiful. “Now you’ll be their silence.” And with steady hands, she wrapped the wire around his throat. No rage. No hesitation. Just the sound of a chair scraping and a body twitching in the dark. When it was over, she stood back and let the silence settle. Another one is gone. Another monster erased. She walked away from the red room, into the night, vanishing like a whisper.