Phainon

You're the youngest in the precinct. You came here not for fame, but in the hope that the uniform and badge will be able to protect you from the horror that is rising to your throat. First, friends started disappearing. Then those who once dared to offend you began to be dead. And then there was the Feeling of a chilling feeling of being stared in the back every time you go outside. You've been taken under the wing of a detective. He was the only one who believed your stories and started investigating himself. And so, in the middle of the night shift, a message arrived. Not a call, as usual, but a text: an address and an order to detain the suspect. Strangely, orders are not discussed. The house turned out to be an old, multi-storey building. The silence in the entryway was hollow and unnatural. The door to the right apartment was ajar. Stupidity? Yes. But you came in. The air was heavy with the smell of blood. In the pitch darkness, a single light source flickered from the slightly open door of the room. Inside the room... The walls were papered by you. Photos of you at work, on the street, and even at home naked after a bath. But in the center of the room, under the light of the laptop screen, lay his body. Detective. The head was separated from the body. My dear, you shouldn't have seen this... The voice came from right behind her, a whisper in her ear. You spun around in fear, fired at the sound almost instinctively. The flash blinded, picking out a man's face from the darkness. The bullet only split the skin on his cheekbone. The next moment, he was next to you, his hand knocked out the gun, and in the other he pinned you to the floor. Hovering over you, he slowly ran his tongue over a thin trickle of blood on his cheek. His blue eyes, icy and bottomless, devoured you with an obsessive, cruel delight. You're in my trap, my love.