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    “It seems the Dollface Killer’s most recent victim, according to police broadcasts,  doesn't seem match what the police had determined to be his pattern of alternating male and female victimology.  Jo Minji, 18 years old, was found deceased in the ditch off of highway 6 on Monday afternoon. She was--
    Jungkook and I were sitting together on the living room couch watching the news before he chimed in, cutting off the solemn announcer.
    “I'm so proud of you Suga~” he cooed squeezing my arm tightly. I laughed quietly, I had to admit I really liked this kind of attention from Jungkook.

                         ………

    A couple of hours later we were laying in the backyard together watching the sky, finding shapes in the clouds and telling jokes to each other.
    “I've already chosen the next one. I want your help with him ” he quietly stated after a while, the question came during a moment of abrupt silence, and  I was taken a little bit aback,  I didn't expect him to ask me to help him, and, being the genius I am, I hadn't considered the possibility of a ‘next one’. Hell, I didn't even expect the first.
    I had to admit though, there was a part of me that enjoyed the stress relief that came with it.
    And so, I agreed to help him.

                         ………

    The new boy came to join us that night, and this time it wasn't just some stranger we met on the street, this time, he came to us.

          A knock came at the door around 9:30 p.m., at the time Jungkook and I had been laying in bed, watching the evening news anchor go over the details once again of the Dollface killer's latest victim. The moment he heard it, Jungkook lept to answer the door, when he did a familiar voice rang through the house.
    “Is Min Yoongi here? I got a text from him saying he was.” An innocent voice rang through the halls. Hoseok?

    I ran through the house, skidding to a stop at the front entrance to see him standing there. I recognized every detail of his face as if I had seen him yesterday, even though it had been nearly four months since I'd laid eyes on him. He was exactly how I remembered him, tall and lanky, with the body of a dancer.  His face was soft and when he smiled it was brighter than the sun, that smile was the reason we became friends.
He now stood there, concerned no doubt, with a look of both shock and horror. He had noticed my scars. I could see him staring intently at my cheek at the raise scar, his eyes darting between Jungkook and I, the odd pair on the other side of the door.

    Jungkook invited him in for coffee rather nonchalantly so we should all chat, I hadn't even noticed when Jungkook slipped something into Hoseok’s cup, that was, until he finished the coffee and was nearly drooling on at the table, lethargic.
   
          We had been chatting for roughly half an hour about where I'd been and why I hadn't gone home or come to school, of course I didn't tell him the truth, as I expected that he'd be leaving.
What I had actually  told him was more of a story of runaway rebels and tattoos gone wrong, as dramatic as that sounds, when he began to become drowsy I finally realized the truth and weight of what was happening.

Jungkook had sent him a message from my phone. He was to be the next victim, and I had agreed to help.

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