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The Wake up call P.5
(A premeditated homicide story)
The phone's screen had gone black, its battery drained. I cursed silently, realizing that I was now cut off from her. Had she managed to escape? Or had her husband found her before I could reach her?
I searched every corner, my footsteps muffled by the thick carpet. The living room bore the scars of their struggle—the overturned coffee table, the shattered vase. But no sign of Loressa. The air smelled of burnt paper, a bitter reminder of her obliterated identity.
The kitchen held more clues. The sink overflowed with dirty dishes, and the remnants of a hastily extinguished fire lay in the fireplace. Among the ashes, I spotted her driver's license, charred but recognizable. Loressa's face stared back at me, a haunting image of the life she had once led.
The back door remained locked, the key presumably in her husband's possession. I pressed my ear against it, listening for any movement outside. Nothing. The silence was oppressive, as if the house held its breath, waiting for the next act in this tragic drama.
I ascended the creaky stairs, my heart pounding. The bedroom door stood ajar, revealing a disheveled bed and a broken mirror. But no Loressa. The bathroom yielded no better results—only shattered glass and bloodstains on the tiles.
Finally, I reached the garage. The overhead light flickered, casting eerie shadows on the concrete floor. And there, sprawled across the cold ground, lay Loressa. Her eyes stared blankly at the ceiling, her once-vibrant hair now matted with blood.
I knelt beside her, my fingers trembling as I checked for a pulse. Nothing. Her skin was already growing cold. The realization hit me like a punch to the gut: I had failed her. The woman who had called me for help was now beyond any aid I could offer.
Read the full story available on Apple Books and Google Books respectively for $10.30/ebook only. Thanks for all the support 🙏 ❤️.
© Atty. Catherine S. Pariño. 2024. All Rights Reserved
The phone's screen had gone black, its battery drained. I cursed silently, realizing that I was now cut off from her. Had she managed to escape? Or had her husband found her before I could reach her?
I searched every corner, my footsteps muffled by the thick carpet. The living room bore the scars of their struggle—the overturned coffee table, the shattered vase. But no sign of Loressa. The air smelled of burnt paper, a bitter reminder of her obliterated identity.
The kitchen held more clues. The sink overflowed with dirty dishes, and the remnants of a hastily extinguished fire lay in the fireplace. Among the ashes, I spotted her driver's license, charred but recognizable. Loressa's face stared back at me, a haunting image of the life she had once led.
The back door remained locked, the key presumably in her husband's possession. I pressed my ear against it, listening for any movement outside. Nothing. The silence was oppressive, as if the house held its breath, waiting for the next act in this tragic drama.
I ascended the creaky stairs, my heart pounding. The bedroom door stood ajar, revealing a disheveled bed and a broken mirror. But no Loressa. The bathroom yielded no better results—only shattered glass and bloodstains on the tiles.
Finally, I reached the garage. The overhead light flickered, casting eerie shadows on the concrete floor. And there, sprawled across the cold ground, lay Loressa. Her eyes stared blankly at the ceiling, her once-vibrant hair now matted with blood.
I knelt beside her, my fingers trembling as I checked for a pulse. Nothing. Her skin was already growing cold. The realization hit me like a punch to the gut: I had failed her. The woman who had called me for help was now beyond any aid I could offer.
Read the full story available on Apple Books and Google Books respectively for $10.30/ebook only. Thanks for all the support 🙏 ❤️.
© Atty. Catherine S. Pariño. 2024. All Rights Reserved
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