Reborn In a Murderer’s Embrace

get there.

The police had uncovered something new, and I was anxious to o

My memory of my own death was fading. It was all a blur, the moments of consciousness sandwiched between bouts of unconsciousness.

All I knew was that I had been drugged and taken from Tangle Lane, then I woke up in a dimly lit warehouse, dumped inside a makeshift wooden crate that seemed to have been used for shipping fragile items like porcelain.

Robin had stumbled upon a hidden gate at the southeast corner of the old orphanage, concealed by overgrown weeds. The gate was rusty, but the well–worn path and the shiny new padlock suggested frequent, recent use.

“We’ve searched here before, but we missed it. The overgrowth hides it well,” Robin’s partner remarked in surprise.

Robin glanced around, then at Colin, who had somehow managed to slip into the yard unnoticed.

“When did he get over there?”

“Who knows? That kid’s like a ghost, one minute he’s here, the next–poof–he’s over the fence,” his colleague said, half–exasperated, half–impressed by Colin’s agility. It was like something straight out of a parkour video.

Stella and I followed Robin as he broke the lock and we entered the yard.

This inner courtyard belonged to the abandoned orphanage, once reserved for the warden or others with privilege.

The yard was desolate, its neglect and emptiness adding to the eerie atmosphere.

Clinging to Stella, I was frightened. She was always braver than me, always walking ahead no matter what.

“I think… this is where they brought me when I was knocked out,” I murmured, starting to suspect that the serial killer wasn’t working alone.

Colin had to have accomplices. He was a murderer, a master of disguise. His innocent facade. had fooled everyone.

“He’s the killer! He is!” I screamed uncontrollably, rushing into the room.

The room was barren, save for several wooden crates that turned it into a makeshift storage

area.

My breathing turned ragged as I searched frantically. This was the place; I had been locked up here when I came to.

It was here I had seen Colin’s face.

15:03

He was looking around the room in panic, searching, then his hand reached for an axe on the Hook.

In my frenzy, I spotted the axe in the corner, its blade crusted with dried blood..

“Officer Robin, there’s an axe here.” NôvelDrama.Org: text © owner.

Robin walked over and surveyed the scene. “There are drag marks here, but this isn’t the primary crime scene.”

“There are zip ties, fragments of clothing. And in this crate, there are strands of hair.

The forensic expert, Stella’s senior, scrutinized the scene with utmost care, eager not to overlook any evidence.

On the crate that had once imprisoned me, he found strands of hair torn out by the rough wood. I remember clawing my way out, desperate to escape, only to be grabbed by a hooded figure who smothered me into unconsciousness once more.

When I awoke again, I was on something cold and hard, like an operating table, feeling my blood drain away as some other fluid was injected into my body.

I couldn’t see the killer; I could only despair as my life ebbed away, my soul peeling away from my body.

When I came to again, I was already dead, my spirit wandering to the Fitzgerald family’s home.

The location of the first crime scene, where my life was taken, remained a mystery.

*Officer Robin!” Dexter’s voice called from outside.

Robin stepped out to see Dexter, pale as a ghost, pointing to a corner.

There lay a pair of blood–stained shoes and socks haphazardly tossed aside. “These are… Phoebe’s,” he stuttered, his voice trembling.

He was calling me Phoebe now, not with disdain, but it still made me feel sick.

“With the evidence we have so far…” Robin hesitated, glancing at Stella. “I’m sorry… but according to our findings, it’s highly likely that Phoebe Caldwell has been harmed.”

Stella’s breath caught, her knees buckled, and she collapsed.

The forensic expert caught her in the nick of time. “Stella, Stella!”

I stood there sobbing, unsure how to comfort her.

I’m okay, Stella, I wasn’t in much pain. I just experienced an unprecedented level of despair.

Meanwhile, Dexter seemed unsteady, his form swaying.

I wasn’t sure if he was acting, but it made me laugh bitterly.

15:03

“It can’t be… She can’t be dead.” He was muttering to himself, barely a whisper.

“Officer Robin! We’ve found a significant lead!” A policewoman burst in, her voice laced with panic. “All the known female victims, they were all adopted from this orphanage, all were orphans or abandoned by their parents.”

In that revelation, I felt a chill run down my spine as pieces of a horrifying puzzle began to fall into place.