I uncovered Julian’s secret. There was a stunningly beautiful woman locked away in his house. Right now, I was peering through the crack of a door, watching him repeatedly whip her delicate body. The woman whimpered in low, choked sobs, but Julian showed no signs of stopping. In the dim light, the floor was mottled with bloodstains. “Please, just kill me. Let me go,” the woman pleaded, lifting a blood-smeared face, her eyes vacant as she stared at Julian. Julian sneered, grabbing her hair and slamming his fist into her face. 0 I recoiled in horror, stepping back and kicking a bottle. At that exact moment, Julian whipped his head around, his dark eyes fixating on where I was. Luckily, I had already ducked into a closet, so he didn’t see me. Julian pushed the door open and walked out. His profile was chillingly grim. I hid in the closet, barely daring to breathe. Julian slowly turned his head, and I saw his gaze linger on my hiding spot. My heart hammered against my ribs. Thankfully, Julian only looked for a few seconds before moving his eyes and walking back inside. This time, I heard him lock the door. From inside, the woman’s terrified screams erupted. I didn’t dare come out, trembling in my hiding place. Fifteen minutes later, Julian emerged. I watched his every move through the gap in the closet door. Julian coolly lit a cigarette. Then, with a look of pure disgust and indifference, he stripped off his clothes, revealing the toned physique that once made my heart race. He went upstairs. He also locked the basement door. I was trapped in the basement by Julian. Only when the sounds from upstairs completely faded did I crawl out of the closet. Today was our hundred-day anniversary. I had planned to surprise Julian by sneaking into his house early, but I never imagined I’d stumble upon such a horrifying scene. I was utterly terrified. I wanted to go in and check on the woman’s injuries, but the door was securely fastened with a heavy lock. The woman was still alive. I could hear faint moans. Lowering my voice, I whispered through the door, “Don’t worry, I’ll call the police and get you out.” The moans from inside instantly ceased. Clearly, the person inside was shocked by my presence. Then, broken, hesitant words came from within. “No…don’t call the police.” I didn’t understand. Why couldn’t I call the police? Even though I still loved Julian, this was clearly illegal confinement. I knelt down and peered through the door crack. I saw a pair of dark, bloodshot eyes. The woman was also lying on the floor, staring directly at me. “You’re his…girlfriend?” the woman said with effort. I nervously mumbled, “Yeah.” The woman continued with difficulty, “I know where he keeps the keys here. They’re in that red bucket over there, there’s a spare key.” Following the woman’s instructions, I went to a red metal bucket. Sure enough, I found a key. And many burnt photos. I picked up the key and these photos, almost all burned in half. The pictures were gruesome. They showed the horrific states of various women before they died, along with severed limbs. “Your boyfriend is a sick serial killer,” the woman’s voice came from inside the room. 0
I didn’t want to believe Julian was a murderer. He was always so nice, and his smile was incredibly charming. We first met at a coffee shop. Sunlight had spilled onto Julian’s almost translucent face, and on a whim, I walked up and asked for his SnapChat. As a boyfriend, Julian was attentive to my every need. But now, the stark evidence lay before me. The woman’s voice was hoarse and grating, like sandpaper. “He likes to date young girls, play the perfect boyfriend, then trap his prey here and slowly torture them to death.” “I don’t think I’ll last much longer. He’s already getting bored with me. You’re his next victim.” “It’s Sunday night. He has his regular Sunday evening church service. You can use this time to escape.” “Any later…and you won’t get out. Have you ever heard the fairy tale of Bluebeard?” I had heard the story of Bluebeard. Duke Bluebeard married a new bride and told her not to go into the innermost room, handing her the key. But the bride couldn’t suppress her curiosity and entered the room. She saw several hanging corpses – Bluebeard’s previous wives. The bride was terrified, dropping the key into blood, but she could never wash it clean. 0 The woman let out a strange laugh. “He’s marked this door. Once you’ve been here, he’ll know the moment he sees you.” I instinctively looked down at my hand. There was a deep blue mark, strikingly obvious. I tried to wipe it off with my clothes, but it had no effect at all. “You’re probably trying to wipe off that mark, just like I was. It’s useless.” “It’s methylene blue, used for cell staining. There’s no way to get that mark off for at least a week,” the woman said with difficulty. I started to panic. “Why can’t I call the police?” I asked. At the mention of “police,” the woman’s voice suddenly became agitated and fragmented. “No, absolutely not! If you call the police, we’ll both die!” Just then, I heard a sound from upstairs. It sounded like a car pulling into the driveway.
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