3rd Person's POV

"A man in his forties was found dead  at around two am today. Reports say that the man died a freak accident. His eyeballs were pulled out and a ladder fell down on him which broke his ribs." Alyssa Nobel, CGZ reporter said which was hear and seen by the bar goers of Ricardo Gomez, the bar owner.

"Oh, man! That was gross!" Clint McGonagall frowned in disgust as he shied away from the television. He sipped on his beer and faced his companion, Dominic Torres.

Both are officers in their police station.

Clint was already an SPO3 while Dominic is his subordinate and partner.

"Do you think we'll get the killer this time?" Dominic asked and stared at the screen.

"I really hope so. This is the second killings this week alone. And, this has the same pattern as the first one." Clint commented.

Even if the party was in full swing, both police officers were on the lookout. They have to stop whoever it was or nothing will happen in their town.

"The killer is on its killing spree until we got hold of him." Dominic added and shook his head.

"What makes you think that the killer is a he?" Clint said, raising an eyebrow at him. "For all we know, the killer was just disguising as a guy so that her traces won't be seen nor felt."

"Man! That was rude!" Dominic exclaimed. "A hot chick is a murderer? That is just mean!"

Loud music drowned their voices and nobody heard of a murder happening at the back of the bar.

The killer was on her third strike.

After giving a strong headbat on her assailant who tried to touch her, shs made sure she got back at him by kicking on his manhood and spelling out her initials on the waist of the victim.

It was only in the morning that the third victim was seen.

The street was reeked with the foul smell of the victim and bystander found out about it and had it reported to the police.

Nobody knows that the woman they had danced with was the killer all along.

Nobody knew her identity.

Nobody knew about her past.

Nobody knew what happened to her.

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Evie's POV

There was an earsplitting scream that disrupted my thoughts and I groaned as I stood up from where I was resting.

"What the hell was that, Irene?" I exclaimed and approached her to where she is.

Irene Feldman, with her towel still wrapped around her, pointed at something inside the bathroom.

"Wtf!" I exclaimed again and killed it with all my might. I made sure it was dead before I threw it in the garbage can with a dustpan.

"Geez! Thank you, Evie!" Irene said and continued showering.

"What a roach that was!" I shook my head and went back to sleep.

I still have a duty at the bar later on so I have to catch up on sleep.

I worked as a bartender and that has been my routine since I am on my last semester and finally graduating in college.

⚫⚫⚫

Eva's POV

My mind was still hazy as I woke up from a long sleep.

My fifteenth boyfriend broke up with me and I was partying like hell because I got free from him.

All he ever cared about was his pleasure and needs.

I was too good to give him my virginity.

I was looking for someone who has the same qualities like dad.

Sweet and caring. A real gentleman.

That's why I jump from one man to another.

Yawning, I cooked food for myself and prepared my coffee.

I live alone in a tiny apartment near the famous bar across the street and coffee shop where I work day and night as a barista.

I was so in love with coffee as much as I love alcohols.

I only resort to the latter when I am in my vulnerable state.

Like recently.

When I remembered that day at the convenience store where my parents were shot by the hostage takers and their watch man.

I did not knew that I broke another mug when the same horrendous vision entered my mind.

I shook my head and cried like I always do.

I was diagnosed with PTSD when I reached sixth grade, two years after my parents death.

A concerned parent of my classmate helped me and took me in.

She posted as my aunt when she heard about my parents and drove to where I was to fetch me that day at the gas station.

That was the day I became silent and unresponsive to everyone around me.

In every loud noise, I mistook them as a gunshot and I automatically screamed and cried like crazy.

But Aunt Zyxcie was patient with me.

She became my second mother and helped me recover.

I was okay with it. I got to college with her aid and her daughter, Zephanie, was more than happy to be living with them.

But, I convinced them that I am okay. So they gave me this tiny apartment when I entered college.

Now that I am in my graduating year, life became a little tough so I had to work at the same time.

That was when I get hired as a barista.

Fate was not on my side.

As Aunt Zyxcie met an accident a year ago and Zephanie was comatose while on their way home.

I began doubting again about the people around me.

I know it was an accident.

But thoughts that somebody is after me invaded my mind.

I am still vulnerable.

I thought I had recovered.

I really thought I am.