Murder Case #201

CHAPTER 1- DISTANT VOICES

AINSLYNN QUEZON

She's struggling to breathe.

I feel my fists clenched tightly as I desperately wish I could free her from the rope that's tightly bound around her neck. But I know I lack the necessary means to do so, and a deep sense of frustration and helplessness washes over me.

The sound of fresh blood flowing from her body onto the floor reaches my ears. Her breathing indicates a desperate struggle for life, and yet she clings to the hope that someone will rescue her, even though she acknowledges deep down that it's a slim chance.

I squeeze my eyes shut, counting in my head. One...two...three.

With each passing second, the atmosphere becomes charged with an intangible heaviness, the weight of anticipation palpable in the air. It feels as if the very molecules vibrate with electric tension, as though the room itself holds its breath in fearful anticipation.

I sense the sinister presence of the killer, a malevolent specter lurking just beyond the edges of perception, his intentions veiled yet unmistakably malevolent. Like a predator stalking its prey, he hovers over the victim, poised to deliver the fatal blow that will seal her tragic fate.

The weight of the impending tragedy crushes my heart, and I wish I could do something to stop it. But all I can do is bear witness to the atrocity about to unfold, as I have so many times before.

"I love you so much," a deep male voice says with emphasis.

The sound of light and measured footsteps can be heard coming from somewhere nearby, and I feel a sudden surge of fear and dread. As the footsteps draw closer, a burst of faint, sinister laughter echoes through the air as if the source is relishing the horror that lies before it.

The sound sends shivers down my spine, and I realize with a sinking feeling that whoever is approaching is not there to help the victim.

"And who could this be? The mastermind? An accomplice?"

I swallow hard and force myself to focus on the victim, despite the overwhelming horror of the situation. I know that like countless others before her, she too will suffer a brutal and senseless death at the hands of her killer.

"Daxxe," the woman weakly whispers.

I feel like I've stopped breathing. I can't help but feel happy despite the inhumane crime I've just witnessed. For the first time, I heard a name. Whether it's a good or bad idea, I'll figure it out later.

This case is unlike any other. The victim's voice is strikingly clear, and I can discern the movements of those involved in the crime with a level of precision I have never experienced before.

"Daxxe," the woman whispers again.

It's only me who can hear her weak voice. I suddenly get confused because of the mixed emotions I detect in her voice. Pain, mercy, hope, and... anger?

Who is Daxxe?

"Die, bitch," the man utters deeply.

My heart races and I can feel a surge of panic rising within me as I hear the deafening sound of the gun going off. Without thinking, I scream, "No!" as the woman's life is abruptly cut short by the killer's bullet.

"Oh my god, Ainslynn! What are you doing again?" my friend Lesia shouts at me. We're still in the fitting room of ZZ Boutique in LC Mall.

I quickly take out a handkerchief from my pocket and wipe away my sweat. I act normal and walk out.

"This is fine," I point to the red dress I'm holding. I head straight to the counter and pay.

"Are you feeling okay? Why do you look so pale?" Lesia asks me again. I just shake my head and ignore her chatter. "You're so weird. If you weren't my friend, I would be scared of your aura right now. Don't tell me you're hallucinating again?"

A heavy lump forms in my throat as I swallow, a reflexive response to the disturbing scene I had witnessed solely through my acute hearing. Disquiet courses through my veins, compelling me to hasten my steps, eager to distance myself from the unsettling reality that unfolded within the confines of the boutique. I yearn for the solace of believing it to be a mere hallucination, a product of my own imagination run amok, so that I can deny the grim truth of what I have encountered.

Since acquiring my cursed ability, I have witnessed exactly two hundred murder cases. I cannot explain how or why I obtained this curse, but one day I simply realized that I was different from normal people. Even my mother couldn't provide an explanation for my peculiarity.

While it may seem unbelievable, I possess a peculiar hearing ability. I am unable to see, but I can distinctly perceive the screams, cries, and struggles of the victims of those abominable creatures.

Thanks to this ability, I have learned to analyze the emotions of both the victims and the perpetrators through their speech patterns. Even their movements, I can discern without any conscious effort.

Two important elements are missing for me to prevent the victim's death. Face and name.

I can't see, how can I find them? No name is mentioned, how can I identify them immediately?

Almost all of the murder cases I talk about are reported on television and radio, but it's too late for me to know the faces and names of the victims. It's too late to save them.

I feel my tears fall. I can't do anything but listen to their pleas and cries.

I'm useless! I stop walking and just sit down.

"Ainslynn, what's happening to you?" Lesia asks me again.

"The victim I heard about earlier is still alive. I can hear her voice three hours before she breathes her last. There's still time. We still have time," I reply, trying to compose myself.

"Daxxe..." I say. I'm sure that's the name the woman said.

I'm not sure if you're referring to the killer or the last person you're waiting for to save you. Help me. I want to save you. We still have time.

"Ducks? Ducklings?"

"Daxxe. D-A-X-X-E," I spelled out the name.

"Ahh, Daxxe. No, why? Did he do something to you?" Lesia asks.

I gasp. I don't know how she became a detective when all she has in her head is nonsense.

"Can you help me find this person?" I ask, frustrated.

"Of course, Teacher Lynn. Do you have a picture or any information about him?" Lesia asks.

I shake my head. If I had any, I wouldn't need her help. But I have nothing but that name.

"Let's go to our station. Let's find information about this Daxxe you're talking about. Is he your long-lost childhood sweetheart?" Lesia jokes.

I just scratch my head. My hair will turn white because of her.

"Will you help me or not?" I ask, impatiently.

Lesia's words are laced with defensiveness and an air of arrogance as she boasts about her detective and computer genius skills.

"Don't you trust me? I'm a detective and computer genius too, okay? No thief can escape the power of technology," Lesia says defensively.

I decide to put a stop to the conversation and get on with the task at hand. "Let's go," I say, cutting her off and pulling her out of the mall.

We quickly make our way to the SH Station, where Lesia works. With her expertise in technology, I know she can help us get to the bottom of the case we are working on. As we arrive at the station, I can't help but feel a sense of relief that we are one step closer to cracking the case.

The building's exterior indicates its state-of-the-art technology, with modern CCTV cameras and an up-to-date computer at the information desk.

Lesia and I walk into the Homicide Detective Department or the HD Department. We pause in front of a table where folders, notebooks, and pens are scattered. Additionally, I spot a camera, a recorder, and a laptop.

"Sit down, Lynn. I need to use the computer."

I immediately comply. I remain quiet as I watch my friend move around.

"Who is she?" Lesia and I are both surprised at the sudden change in tone.

"Oh, Detective Ace! You're scaring us!"

"You're always getting scared, Detective Lesia. Who's your beautiful companion?"

Despite his arrogant demeanor, I try my best not to show any disrespect towards him. As our eyes meet, a sudden realization dawns on me - I recognize his face. It hits me like a bolt of lightning - he had visited Dammon Academy, where I work, only a couple of weeks ago.

As I noticed him staring, I calmly addressed the issue, "I don't mean to be rude, but staring is not appropriate."

Instead of acknowledging his mistake, he defensively retorted, "I'm not staring, I'm just being stingy."

Lesia keeps glancing at us. "Come on, Ace. That's just Ainslynn Quezon. She's my friend. Actually, she works at Dammon Academy."

"Oh, Damon Academy. No wonder your face looks familiar to me. The teachers and students at DA are nice, right?" he says with a smile, probably thinking I wouldn't detect the insult in his words.

Control yourself, Lynn. You still have something to do.

Instead of confronting the man, I turn my gaze to the monitor. Lesia opens a web browser and quickly types "Daxxe" into the search bar. In the blink of an eye, a multitude of images and information surface.

"Who are you looking for in Daxxe?"

My eyes dart back and forth, carefully scrutinizing each picture and piece of information that appears on the monitor in front of me. Every detail is important, and I don't want to miss a thing.

"Daxxe?" the nosy detective interjects. He probably has no intention of leaving.

Daxxe... Shit! All the people named Daxxe on the list live in other countries. If only I could see her face, I would move to find the woman in my hearing.

"Lynn, is he there?" Lesia asks, bringing my attention back.

"I don't know. I haven't seen his face yet," I reply honestly. I hear Detective Ace groan.

There's only a 1% chance that I'll be able to save the woman who will become the victim in the 201st murder case.

"Were you scammed? Tsk. I know many people who fell victim to voice phishing, email phishing, and especially dating and romance scams."

I give him a scornful look. He's better off being a fake shaman than a detective. He knows a lot, but it's all meaningless.

"Your friend Detective Lesia is such a killjoy. She doesn't know how to take a joke. She even seems intent on making me swallow my life."

"That's just her way, but she's kind, isn't she? She just has something on her mind right now. Don't mind her, many have tried but just as many have failed."

Even though my eyes are on the monitor, I can feel the man's gaze on me. I'm close to slapping him. I'm curious about what it would feel like to slap a male detective.

"I'm leaving early today. What about you? Should I go ahead? Good luck in finding Daxxe. Fighting!" It's obvious from his tone that he's just teasing.

Are there really some screwballs at this station?

"Bye! Say hi to Doc. Kira, Ace!"

As the peculiar sounds infiltrate the air, I instinctively clasp my hands over both ears, attempting to block out the haunting echoes that weave their way into my consciousness. The auditory panorama unfolds before me, painting a chilling tableau of imminent doom. And amidst the symphony of disquiet, a distinct, bone-chilling sound sends shivers cascading down my spine.

Once more, the traumatizing sound of latex gloves reverberates through the room, its eerie resonance etching deep into my mind. The distinct snap of rubber against flesh resounds with an eerie cadence, evoking a sensory memory of countless nefarious acts. I can almost visualize the glossy material stretched tautly over the killer's hands, a macabre emblem of their dark intentions.

My heart beats wildly within my chest, its rhythm mimicking the drumming chaos in my mind. Yet, even as I attempt to shield myself from the chilling sounds, the ominous symphony continues, swelling in intensity. Each snap of latex serves as a chilling reminder that the killer's presence draws closer, their intentions hanging ominously in the air.

Reluctantly, I release my grip on my ears, allowing the haunting sounds to permeate my senses once again. The juxtaposition of disquieting acoustics and the impending tragedy that looms amplifies the weight of helplessness and dread that bears down upon me, a silent witness to the atrocity about to unfold.

"You killed Kira," a female voice says, her words laced with an eerie allure, as if she possesses the ability to manipulate minds. The timbre of her tone sends a shiver down my spine, confirming my suspicions that the killer's accomplice is a woman.

Suddenly, Lesia's urgent voice cuts through the haze of my thoughts, pulling me back to reality. She shakes my shoulder, jolting me from my dazed state. Blinking rapidly, I regain my senses, my attention refocused on the present moment.

"What happened to her? Is she okay?" Detective Ace's voice interjects, filled with concern. I snap back to full alertness, a surge of adrenaline coursing through my veins.

"Kira," I manage to utter, my voice trembling with a mix of fear and urgency. Their puzzled expressions reveal their confusion, their questioning gazes urging me to provide more information.

"Eh? Do you know Kira? What about her?" the man probes, seeking clarification.

Silently, I wrestle with the weight of the knowledge I carry. My mind races, replaying the disturbing revelations I've uncovered about Murder Case #201. Kira, whose fate hangs precariously in the balance, is destined to become tonight's victim—a chilling truth that weighs heavily on my conscience.

Summoning my courage, I gather my thoughts and steady my voice, the gravity of the situation bearing down upon me.

"Kira... she will be the victim," I whisper, my words hanging heavily in the air. Their faces contort with a mixture of disbelief and growing realization, the truth of my words sinking in.

The room falls into an uneasy silence as the weight of the impending tragedy settles upon us. Time seems to suspend, each passing second pregnant with anticipation, as we collectively grapple with the urgency of preventing the atrocity about to unfold.