Misery

14. 𝙳𝙴𝙰𝚃𝙷

                             ALTHEA'S POV
Name : Zoe Martinez
Status : Dead
Age : 18
Gender : Female
Date of birth : 11th of December, 2000
Date of death : 11th of December, 2018
...

The meeting with Coby's Manager did provide a plethora of information, though he seemed extremely reluctant to share some of the details - but I coaxed all I could out of him. Coby had been diagnosed with bipolar dirorder at the beginning of this year. He was left distraught and was all alone.

Although, personal information such as these concerning the victim's physical or mental health were generally labeled confidential for the public. If situations called for them, the police could definitely extract these.

Speaking of which, the parallels of being somewhat of a forlorn, tragic, isolated side character was present in all of the victims so far. This held true even for Oliver; because let us be honest, you being the perfect son, the perfect student, a prodigy, a perfect everything didn't certainly clad you with the label of having perfect friend circles or a social life.

I had been there once, it was a dreadful place to be in. Perilous repurcussions surged all around you once you acquire the shaky, ephemeral labels of perfection, of being perfect. I was once perfect. I had friends and indeed I loved them, maybe they did love me back too, but maybe they didn't. It didn't matter. The truth of the matter was that I never fit in; no matter how desperately I tried to, it wasn't fruitful. I could never be myself around them, around anyone.

Deprivation of love and attention chosen deliberately, inflicting self-loathing wounds all over themselves deliberately . Dealing with victims who hid their minds behind a long-drawn, untouchable veil of abstrusity was a helluva lot more troublesome than I thought it to be.

Why would the perpetrator select them out of all people to be the humble guests to their loving , skull-shattering palace of death?

Up until yesterday we could find no plausible clues as to the whereabouts of this well acclaimed killer of ours. I wonder why. Quite coincidentally Emails that we never caught a glimpse of before the rising sun of the day before suddenly seemed to manifest out of thin air onto the shaky screen of Coby's dust-infested computer.

It was yet another cryptic note, that lead to some website which ceased to exist within 90 seconds of us entering it and trying to walk through it. The front page contained a second link, this one brought us down to another one of these sites. We barely got a few second to copy the seemingly endless lines of code cascading down the page.

It wasn't too out of the ordinary or difficult to work out the code. Patrick took care of it and the results were... it made me furious. More accurately, it made all of us want to collectively rip off our skulls and play ping pong with them.

D       e       a        d         e       n     d

That was it. That was the message. The code. I swear when we caught this silly flea-infested piece of coyote crap, I'd be the first one to sit them down on an electric chair and rip off their arms with a chainsaw . They were playing with us and for once it wasn't hilarious.

So far into the case we'd collected all sorts of information from possibly every person who'd ever known the victims. We checked all the motherducking cctvs, dug into the sneakiest nook and crannies of their internet activities, their ghost town like houses and got down even to the point of investigating, analysing their underwear .

All of this was done in under two weeks. For three different individuals, living miles away from each other,not interlinked in any way by a long shot.