Killer. Beauty. Queen

Chapter three: The whispered secrets carved in blood

A precious life would be brutally extinguished. That fateful night bore witness to a violent death, a chilling act that would send shockwaves through the world of the comfortable billionaires. The shadows whispered of a cold-blooded murder, a tale of darkness that would soon captivate the world of the affluent and privileged, shattering their illusion of invincibility.

It was a sunny evening in the sixth month of the year 2038. Even with how evolved humans were, there were some things we still couldn't control.

Some had the impulse for murder! Some were still heartless killers. Some still found excitement and satisfaction in snuffing out another's life. Evolution hadn't erased this dark aspect of humanity. In a world where artificial intelligence could mimic human thought, and interplanetary travel was no longer a distant dream, the fundamental battle between good and evil endured. The tools may have changed, but the essence remained—the urge to hurt, to control, to dominate. It was a confusing contradiction. How could a society that had achieved so much still struggle with such primal impulses?

The world moved fast some twenty six floors below that cursed hotel room. Life buzzed, bustled and boomed in the most advanced city of the the globe, Resen City. The streets hummed with hurried footsteps. Faces buried in screens, conversations drowned by earphones, the city dwellers navigated the urban jungle, chasing dreams. Office buildings reached for the heavens. Colleagues shared elevators, yet exchanged no more than a nod or a curt greeting, their minds preoccupied with deadlines and presentations. Electric cars silently zoomed on immaculate roads. The city never slept, and neither did its inhabitants. The White hotel was at the city's heart, where the lives of countless individuals intersected. Each guest was but a fleeting encounter. So was the guest in suite 512.

The woman sat at the wooden table, writing, just like she always did. A single tear trickled down her check as she tightened her grip on the pen. The flickering candlelight cast playful shadows, illuminating the pages of her unwritten epic, a story yet to be told but already etched in her heart. She clutched that pen like it held all the answers, her knuckles white with determination. Around her neck lay her signature pearl necklace. They dangled like tiny, lustrous moons, and she fiddled with them absentmindedly as she wrote.

Just as she attempted to wipe away the last traces of tears, she heard the distinct creak of the luxurious suite door, slowly swinging open. A chill raced down her spine, her heartbeat echoing in the hushed room. Panic welled up within her, and she instinctively went to check, her nerves tingling with unease. She cautiously approached the doorway, her fingers gripping the handle. Summoning her courage, she gently pushed the door open, the creaky hinges letting out a reluctant groan.

With trembling hands, she stepped towards the partially ajar door, her instincts on high alert. The corridor outside was dimly lit, casting eerie shadows that danced like phantoms. Her senses were heightened, attuned to every subtle sound and movement. Her high-pitched voice rang out, betraying a hint of anxiety, "Is that you—"

Before she could finish her sentence, before her eyes could confirm the intruder's identity, a strong, unwelcome hand clamped down on her shoulder, the grip firm and unyielding. A gasp escaped her lips, her body freezing in response to this unexpected and terrifying interruption.

The intruder, cloaked in shadows, moved with a purpose that sent shivers down her spine. A pair of gloved hands swiftly and forcefully covered her mouth with a thick cloth, muffling any cry for help. She could taste the fabric's rough texture, smell its mustiness. Her eyes darted around, desperate for a means of escape. The room had turned into a trap, its walls closing in on her. Adrenaline surged through her veins, her heart pounding in her chest like a war drum.

Her mind raced, thoughts turning into a whirlwind of uncertainty. Who could it be? Why were they here? What did they want from her, when she had already suffered so much? Could it be someone she knew? A stranger from the past, seeking vengeance or retribution? Questions without answers spun in her mind, intensifying her dread.

The killer pushed her down to the bed. She tried to fight. She kicked and twisted. Battle for her life, a survival instinct kicking in. But fate seemed cruel that night, and the odds were stacked against her. She had been overpowered. The killer pressed a pillow against her beautiful face. She let out quiet muffled sounds in protest. Her body writhed and twisted, seeking escape, yearning for breath, for life. She fought back hard with no success. As fate would have it, she began to grow tired. Her struggles weakened, her movements faltered, until all that remained were feeble twitches. The evil killer kicked her in the ribs many times. The sounds of protests turned into eerie silence. She was no longer breathing. The heartless murderer, mission accomplished, released the lifeless body and rose from the bed, glancing coldly at the life stolen, with a detached satisfaction. In one swift movement, they turned their head away. Then, as if nothing ever happened, the killer walked out of suite 512.

The world hung in suspense, a breath caught in the throat of fate. No matter what happened next, one thing was for certain—the world the billionaires, the beauty queens, the fancy lawyers had known would be forever altered by this wicked murder. This tragic demise sent shockwaves through the corridors of power, rattling the walls of opulent boardrooms, their ivory towers and luxurious penthouses. The gilt-edged lives they had lived, cushioned by wealth and beauty, would unravel before their eyes, revealing the raw, unvarnished truth.

Society would be jolted awake, forced to confront the darkness that had seeped into its heart. It would become a bitter realization that no one was truly immune. The certainties they had taken for granted were now as fragile as glass. The world had turned a page, and the previous chapter would only be remembered as a prelude to this grim revelation. They would never ever be the same again.