“Maybe,” I whisper, leaning my forehead against hers.
“But when I was in that room with Miller... when I heard his voice in my ear... I didn’t feel trapped. I felt protected. And God help me, Lucy... when he calls me his, a part of me believes him. Because he was the only one who listened when I was desperate for help.”
Lucy shakes her head, backing toward the door, looking at me like I’m a stranger.
“I can’t just watch you fall in love with a psycho who has blood on his hands. I came here to save you, but you’re already gone, aren't you?”
She slips out of the office, leaving me alone with the scent of lilies and the terrifying weight of my own confession. The door clicks shut behind her, leaving a silence so heavy I can practically feel it pressing against my lungs.
I stand there, frozen, staring at the spot where she was just standing. My own words ring in my ears, mocking me. I didn't even know I felt it. Not until it spilled out of me like blood from a fresh wound.
Panic, sharp and cold, replaces the adrenaline. I grab my phone with trembling fingers and dial Lucy’s number. It rings. Once. Twice. Five times. It goes to voicemail.
“Fuck,” I whisper, my breath hitching.
I redial immediately. Nothing. Each unanswered call feels like a door slamming shut between me and the only shred of normalcy I have left. Is she just angry? Or is she so terrified of me, of us, that she’s already cutting me out of her life? Or worse... did he already start making good on his threat?
“She won’t answer, Mali. She’s processing the fact that her best friend is falling for a serial killer. Give her time. Or don’t. It won’t change the outcome.”
His voice doesn’t come from an earpiece this time. It comes from the wall speakers of my own office, distorted and omnipresent.
I flinch, spinning around, but the room is empty. Just me, the blue flowers, and the invisible eyes watching my every move.
“Shut up, I’m not falling in love,” I snap at the empty air, my voice cracking.
“Just... shut up.”
I can’t sit here. If I stay in this office, I’ll lose my mind. I need to move. I need the clinical, detached reality of my work to anchor me.
I grab my white lab coat from the hook, pulling it on like a suit of armor. I button it all the way up, hiding the girl who just confessed her sins and replacing her with the Chief Medical Examiner.
I leave my office and walk down the long, sterile corridor toward the autopsy room. The heavy double doors hiss open, and the temperature drops. On my table, there’s already a body waiting under a white sheet. A new arrival.
I snap on a pair of latex gloves, the sound sharp in the quiet room. I pick up the clipboard resting at the foot of the table. My hands are still shaking, so I grip the board firmly. I take a long, shaky breath, forcing the image of Lucy’s tear-stained face to the back of my mind.
“Focus, Madeline,” I mutter to myself.
“Just do the work.”
I reach for the edge of the sheet to begin the external examination, but my eyes keep drifting to the security camera mounted in the corner of the ceiling. The little red light is glowing. He’s waiting for his show and I’m about to give it to him. The morgue is a cathedral of cold steel and fluorescent humming.
I stand over the body, the scalpel heavy in my hand. I need to make the first incision, but the silence is being systematically shredded by the speakers above.
DEIMOS:“You’re shaking, Mali. Your steady hands... the ones that carve through bone without a flinch... they look so human right now. Is it the guilt? Or the thrill of finally admitting you belong to me?”
I ignore him. I press the blade to the skin, but his voice follows me, distorted and mocking, echoing off the tiled walls.
DEIMOS:“Lucy won’t save you. She’s tucked away in her apartment, locking her doors, wondering if her best friend is a victim or a villain. She sees the darkness in you now. The darkness I planted. It’s scary, isn't it?”
“Shut up,” I whisper, my voice catching.
I make the cut, but it’s jagged. Imperfect.
DEIMOS:“Careful, baby. That’s sloppy work. Is that how you’re going to treat the dead today? With the same distraction you gave Jake? You’re thinking about how it felt when he pushed you, aren't you? And how it felt to know I was there to catch you.”
He laughs, a low, mechanical sound that skips through the audio feed. It feels like he’s stroking the back of my neck with a cold wire. I drop the scalpel. It clatters onto the dissection table with a deafening ring.
The adrenaline, the fear, and the raw exhaustion from the day finally boil over into a white-hot rage. I spin around, facing the empty room, my eyes burning as I glare directly into the nearest security camera.
