The locked door gave way after two shoulder thrusts, and the four people raced inside, then stood horrified at the sight in their front. 

As naked as a newborn baby, the aged man laid his back on the table,  slashed his stomach with a razor and arranged some of his intestines around himself. And as usual, his last smile was that of contentment and not of fear.

"Ahh!"

"Holy Cross!"

One of the teachers raised her two arms and placed them on her chest, then vomited immediately. While the other lady shook and fainted. 

"He is dead. There is nothing we can do for him, but we need to wake her up."

"We need some water. She is still breathing."

"Get her out of this room and lock the door. I need to make some calls."

"Help me, I can't carry her alone."

"Ask her colleagues to help."

"She is still in shock and needed help as well."

"Oh... Shit!"

After minutes of waking the lady up, and another hour that it takes to return sanity to the school, Zuma and his partner sneaked out through the rear door, and were almost lost among the crowd when someone cry out his name from afar."

"Walk fast. That must be a reporter."

"Why are you avoiding them? This is an opportunity to warn the public of the danger of reading LAYLA."

"It's too premature to conclude, even though all the fact shows this book is responsible for all the death. Bedside, humans are always attracted to danger and anything mystic, giving publicity to the book may make them desire it rather than getting scared."

"I think understand your point," Isabella answered back, opened their patrol car door, and hopped inside.

"Let's get out of here first."

"Officer Zuma, can you please confirm if-."

The rest of the reporter's speech was lost in the breeze as Zuma drove out of the hospital vicinity.

"I want to visit the publisher's address and hear his side of the story."

Isabella nodded her head, fixed her eyes on the copy of LAYLA on the space above the car dashboard, and let out, " I suggest you burn this book. Am always tempted to pick it up and turn the cover page."

"You are right. I can feel also feel it. I don't believe in voodoo, yet this book seemed to possess a kind of seductive spirit, and the fact that am not a story lover did not stop me from yearning to read it as well."

"How long is our destination?"

"Two hundred and ten kilometres ahead of us. We will be there by evening."

Isabella lolled on the car seat and close her eyes, then snapped it open immediately. The image of the mutilated students and their inhuman smiles had been terrorising her whenever her eyes blinked.

"I will have a tough time forgetting all of this."

"You will be lucky to. As for me, this terror will haunt me for the rest of my life."

"Did you know why we enjoyed each other's company?"

"I think you have a crush on me."

"Wipe that smirked off your face!"

"I know the reason why."

"Tell me."

"Because you are like me. No family is waiting for you at home, nobody will get worried if you failed to return from work, and only a few crocodile's tears will be shed when you die."

"That's too harsh, but it's the truth. My work is my joy and this is the reason why I reached this position in a few years."

"Exactly what we have in common."

"Tell me about yourself."

"Huh. It's a long story."

"We have all the time in the world. At least, talking will chase boredom away, and we will be at our destination before we realized it."

"Okay. My story started forty-two years ago..."

Zuma's hometown was an island some thousands of miles away, and it was the fourth island that make up this Confederate state. 

The peaceful island was suddenly plunged into turmoil one morning after a new moon, and that was the beginning of the twenty years reign of the new moon killer.

During his tenth reign of terror, the night stalker finally make his way to the house of one of his targets, scalded the fence, removed the window from its frame and sneaked inside. 

He made no sound as he tiptoed into the bedroom, halted at the sight of his two preys, removed a matchet from the inside of his clothing and tiptoed towards the sleeping couples.

"Whack... Whack!"

Both were dead without knowing who slashed their head off, and the new moon killer danced insanely at the sight of a blood-soaked mattress. 

After removing all the clothing on their victim's bodies, he painted them from head to toe with their blood, placed them back in bed and put their two heads at their feet.

The following morning, the dwellers need no soothsayer to inform them that the psychopath had struck again, but this time around, there is a survivor.

This was the story that was confided in Zuma when he comes to age, and he realized that his fragile heart was a result of his past terror. 

After his post-traumatic experience, the young man made up his mind to spend the rest of his life fighting against crime, and the fear of having his family massacred one day was the reason why he decided never to get married.

Just like Zuma, Isabelle was a victim of the dark side of humanity. But unlike Zuma, her father was the bogeyman. 

Because everything happened at her adolescent age, the memory was always fresh in her mind. And perhaps, this was the main reason why she had chosen solitary over sharing her bed with a man that can take her life in anything he wishes.

"Leave Mommy alone!"

"You... You are... A... A bastard. I want a son and not a girl that will end up a prostitute like her mother."

"Someone should come to my rescue. He is... Oh, am dying -."

"Die. You are nothing but bad luck."

"Open this door."

"Get lost. Am having a nice discussion with my wife."

"Leave my Mommy. Did you want to kill her?"

'Whack!'

"I will kill you anytime you dare interfere between me and my wife."

"Am..Am...!"

"LEAVE MY MOMMY!"

"Damn bitch."

When Isabella woke up an hour later, she was shocked to find out that her father had killed her mother, wet the house with an inflammable substance and set the whole room ablaze. 

Because she was not destiny to die that day, the fire had not spread to her spot when the door was finally broken down

At last, she was made an orphan by an act of evilness, and the murderer is no one but her father.