Lustville
Chapter 1: “Caught”
The curtains weren’t fully closed. They never were.
He liked it that way — half-exposed, the thrill of maybe being seen. Outside, the rain tapped on the windowpane like an impatient guest, and the soft thrum of jazz played from her phone, still tangled in the sheets.
“You always say this is the last time,” she murmured.
He kissed her shoulder without answering. He’d already slipped his ring back on.
The room smelled like wine and skin and broken vows. It was always the same after — the high, the hush, the slow drift into shame. But this time, something was different. She felt it before she heard it. A twinge in her stomach. A flicker of dread.
The air shifted.
“Did you hear that?” she asked.
He laughed. “Your guilt talking.”
But she sat up anyway, sheet clutched to her chest. The house was supposed to be empty. No kids, no husband — a weekend conference that gave them this freedom, this illusion.
Then the bedroom door creaked.
“Jason… that wasn’t the wind.”
He rolled his eyes and got up, naked, swaggering like a man with nothing to fear.
The lights flickered once, then twice.
“Okay, this isn’t funny anymore,” she whispered.
When he opened the door, she saw it — just a glimpse — a shadow in the hall, tall and still. Not running. Not hiding.
Watching.
Jason didn’t speak. His body jerked backward like a puppet on a string, then fell, hard.
Something slick hit the carpet with a wet slap.
She screamed.
And the music kept playing.
🎶 I only love you when I lie... 🎶
A red ribbon fluttered to the floor, looped perfectly like a gift.
And from the hallway, a voice — soft, female, precise — whispered:
“One down. One to go.
Chapter 2: “She Woke Alone”
The first thing she felt was the cold.
Not the room — her skin. Her thighs, her chest, her lips. Cold like she’d been outside. Cold like death had kissed her forehead and walked away.
She opened her eyes.
The room was clean. Cleaner than before. The sheets were tucked. The lights dimmed. Jason’s clothes were gone. So was his blood.
Only the red ribbon remained — tied around her wrist like a satin warning.
“No. No, no, no…”
She sat up too fast, dizzy, heart pounding. She half-expected his body to be sprawled beside her, mouth open, eyes glassy.
But he wasn’t here. Nothing was here. Except the ribbon, and the smell of bleach.
Her phone was gone.
She checked the windows. Still locked. Front door? Still bolted. No broken glass. No signs of a break-in.
“It was real. It was real.”
She whispered it like a prayer — or a lie she was trying to make true.
In the mirror above the dresser, she looked like someone else. Bruised lips. A small cut just below her left eye. Smudged mascara. A haunted version of herself.
Jason was dead. She knew it. She felt it. She saw it.
But now… there was no blood. No body. No proof. Just the ribbon and the gnawing dread that maybe she’d been left alive on purpose.
She showered in silence, scrubbing her arms until they burned. Her ring finger was bare. She’d taken off her wedding band last night — before Jason — and now it was gone too.
She didn’t report it.
How could she?
“What would I say? That I cheated? That my lover got murdered during sex and now he’s disappeared? That someone tied a bow on my wrist like a Christmas gift and cleaned my house?”
They’d think she was drunk. Or high. Or guilty.
They’d talk. Everyone in Lustville talks.
When her husband got back from his conference that evening, she was waiting with wine and lasagna. Perfect wife mode. She even wore the pearl earrings he liked.
“Miss me?” he asked.
She smiled. “Always.”
But inside, her mind replayed the whisper from the hallway.
“One down. One to go.”
And now, she understood something awful:
Whoever it was — they weren’t done with her.
They were just beginning.
Chapter 3: “Ribbon Games”
The package arrived the next morning.
No return address. No postmark. Just a small white box, wrapped in red twine — the exact shade of the ribbon she woke up wearing.
Her hand shook as she opened it.
Inside:
-
A Polaroid photo — grainy, shadowy, but unmistakable.
It was her, asleep. Naked. Vulnerable.
Last night. -
A torn scrap of paper, tucked underneath. Handwritten.
Elegant cursive.
One line:
“You looked peaceful. He didn’t.”
She dropped the box like it burned.
The photo fluttered to the tile floor. She didn’t pick it up.
She backed away. Clutched the counter. Every wall in her perfect kitchen felt like it was breathing.
She checked the locks. Again. And again.
She ran to the window, yanked the blinds — nothing.
Then the thought hit her like a punch:
He’d been here. While she slept.
Not during the murder. After.
“Oh my God…”
She stumbled into the bathroom and vomited.
That night, her husband kissed her cheek goodnight, rolled over, and fell into easy sleep.
She lay beside him, wide-eyed, silent.
She had the photo hidden under a loose floorboard in her closet. She hadn’t called the police. She couldn’t.
She didn’t want questions.
She wanted this to go away.
But something told her it wouldn’t.
At 3:33 AM, her phone buzzed once.
A message.
Unknown number.
No text.
Just an image.
Another photo.
This time, it was her front door. Taken from inside the house.
Chapter 4: Ethan
“The One Who Didn’t Deserve It”
It had been six years.
Ethan was the gentle one. Her college almost-love. The one who held her during panic attacks and never pushed for more than she gave. When he emailed out of nowhere — "In town. Coffee?" — she said yes. He said I made him feel like the only man alive. I told him he made me feel seen. But what I never said—never admitted—was how good it felt to be worshipped. And how fast I could make someone break their promises.
She told herself it was innocent.
They sat across from each other in a booth at Kelly’s Diner. He still wore faded jeans and soft flannel. Still had that half-smile when he asked about her husband.
“You happy?” he asked softly.
She hesitated. “I’m fine.”
Ethan’s eyes were kind, but clouded with something else.
“I don’t think you are.”
They didn’t kiss. They didn’t touch.
But he walked her to her car, and whispered:
“I still dream about you.”
That night, she didn’t sleep.
At 3:02 AM, she received a voicemail from Ethan. Breathless. Rushed.
“Something’s not right. I heard something in my hotel room. I—”
Silence. Then a distant sound.
Music. A music box melody. Off-key.
She drove to his hotel like a madwoman. Banged on the door. No answer. She begged the night clerk to let her in.
Ethan was there — on the bed.
Eyes open.
Mouth slightly ajar.
Dead.
His heart had stopped.
But on his chest was something… burned into the skin.
A heart. Sketched crudely. Almost childlike.
She vomited in the sink of the hotel bathroom.
When she came back, the burn mark was gone. So was Ethan’s phone. So was hers.
On the nightstand:
A mint. A red one. Like the kind you get when you leave a hotel.
And a note:
“You’re bad for hearts.”
Two Weeks Later
She didn’t leave her house for ten days.
She showered once. Ate crackers.
Her husband assumed she had the flu.
She didn’t correct him.
She dreamed of Ethan’s heart. Smelled burning skin when there was no fire.
When she touched herself at night, it felt like betrayal.
To whom, she didn’t know.
Chapter 5: Marcus
“The Boss”
He called her from a burner number.
“I know what you’ve been up to. But I’m not judging. I miss you.”
Marcus had been her boss for four years. An affair that burned hot and ended messy. The kind that left passwords changed and glances sharpened in meetings.
Now he wanted to “talk.”
They met in a hotel bar. He was older, heavier, but the voice — that confident rasp — still made her knees ache.
“You look tired,” he said. “Still cheating your way through life?”
She slapped him. He smiled.
“That’s the girl I remember.”
They didn’t speak again until they were naked.
She fell asleep in his arms.
But when she woke, the bed was cold.
The shower was running.
She smiled, thinking he was getting ready to sneak out.
Then she saw the mirror.
Written in steam:
“You think you’re in control?”
She screamed. Tore open the shower curtain.
MarcBus was in there — neck twisted violently, eyes wide in frozen surprise.
There was no water.
Only blood trickling down the drain.
She ran. Ran until her feet blistered. She called no one.
When she returned to the room two hours later —
Marcus’s body was gone.
The steam was still there. The words gone.
On the mirror, a sticker now pressed flat:
“How do you like being used?”
One Month Later
She stopped checking the news.
Her hair thinned from stress. She skipped three periods.
She didn’t cheat. Not once. Not even in thought.
She kept her head down.
But Lustville was small. Eyes were everywhere.
People whispered at the supermarket.
Her old coworker said, “I heard about Marcus. Crazy coincidence, huh?”
She just nodded.
Chapter 6: Caleb
“The Mistake”
He showed up drunk on her porch.
Caleb. A summer fling from three years ago. Bad boy, motorcycle, lip ring. The one her therapist told her was about control — or revenge — or escape.
“Saw you in town. Thought I’d say hi,” he slurred. “You look even hotter now. Wanna talk?”
She said no. He kept pushing.
Her husband was out of town.
It was raining.
She let him in.
They didn’t kiss. He tried. She stopped him.
But she fell asleep on the couch beside him.
She woke up choking.
Her mouth was covered.
A hand pressed over her lips. But not Caleb’s.
The killer was in the room.
She screamed. Fought. But the hand vanished.
Lights on.
Caleb was dead.
Pillow over his face.
His pants down. His neck bruised.
She sobbed for the first time since Ethan.
Then she saw the message on the wall, carved into the drywall above the couch:
“You should’ve stopped at Ethan.”
She cleaned the body.
Wrapped it in a blanket. Put it in her trunk.
Drove it into the woods.
Buried it at 3:48 AM.
When she returned home, her red ribbon was on the doorknob — tied in a perfect bow.
Chapter 7: "Jade Answers"
She’s sitting on her bathroom floor, bleeding from the wrist — not deep, just enough to feel.
Her phone is in her lap.
One name.
One lifeline.
Jade.
She calls.
“Don’t hang up. Please.”
Jade comes over. No questions.
Just hugs her.
Over tea and cigarettes, she spills it all.
Every man. Every death.
The ribbon. The messages. The music box sound.
Eli was the only one who ever tried to save me from myself. And I used that. I let him believe he was special. That I was trying to change. That maybe love could be my redemption. Until he bled out in my arms, whispering, "I forgive you." I never asked him to.
Jade listens. No judgment. Just two words when it’s all out:
“We’re calling the police.”
“No,” she whispers. “They’ll blame me.”
Chapter 8: "Listening, But Not Believing"
They dig through what evidence remains:
- The hidden ribbon
- Scraps of paper
- Her erased phone
- The scar above her thigh: the one she swears the killer left with a needle while she slept
Jade believes… mostly.
But something isn’t sitting right.
“You say you didn’t want them. But you kept saying yes.”
“Because I’m broken. You know I am.”
Jade’s face softens.
But there’s something in her eyes — a doubt. A small one. That’s all it takes.
They stay up all night. The killer doesn’t strike.
In the morning, Jade says,
“I’ll stay a few days. We’ll figure it out together.”
That night, they drink wine. Laugh once. It feels good.
Safe.
She sleeps soundly beside Jade on the couch.
But in the morning — Jade is gone.
Her bed untouched.
No note.
Her suitcase still there.
Her phone ringing from inside the fridge.
On the front door is a new message:
“She listened. Now she’s part of the story.”
Chapter 9: “Devon”
“She Wanted a Savior. She Got a Funeral.”
Three days. No sign of Jade.
No ransom call. No message.
Just the phone in the fridge and the sentence on the door.
She couldn’t breathe anymore. Her skin felt too tight. Her house too loud with silence.
She didn’t call her husband.
She called Devon.
Devon was the first man who ever made her feel seen.
Ten years ago, in her mid-twenties, she’d spent one reckless summer with him.
He was a private investigator now — or claimed to be.
Half thrill, half con. He’d always had one foot in the shadows.
“You sound messed up,” he said over the phone.
“You’re the only one I trust,” she whispered.
He agreed to come.
When Devon walked in, it was like looking at a polaroid of her old self.
“God, you look like hell,” he said, but kissed her cheek gently.
She told him everything.
He asked good questions. Took notes. Photographed the ribbon, the mirror, the carving.
Then, that night — they drank.
Just enough.
“Tell me the truth,” she said, lips close to his ear.
“What?”
“Back then… did I ruin you?”
He smiled sadly. “You woke me up.”
She kissed him. Not because she wanted to. Because she needed to.
They made love.
This time it was different.
More desperate. More emotional.
She cried during. He held her after.
“We’re going to find her,” he promised, brushing hair from her face.
She almost believed him.
She woke up alone in bed. A sound from downstairs.
Music. That off-key lullaby again.
She grabbed a knife.
“Devon?”
No answer. She followed the music. It stopped at the front door.
Pinned to it — a photograph.
Her and Devon in bed.
Taken from the ceiling.
Crisp, clear. Recent.
Behind the photo was a USB drive.
She plugged it into her laptop with trembling fingers.
The video opened:
Devon. In the basement.
Tied. Gagged.
His eyes wild.
Someone behind the camera whispering:“Say goodbye, sweetheart.”
Then the screen went black.
She ran to the basement.
It was clean. Empty.
Only one thing on the floor:
Devon’s ring. The one he always wore.
Wrapped in a red ribbon.
Got it — thank you for clarifying.
So now, she’s trying to appear innocent and do the right thing, by filing a missing persons report for Jade, while hiding the darker truth behind the disappearances of the men and her connection to them. This adds tension because she has to cooperate just enough to be helpful, but not enough to expose herself.
Chapter 10: “The Report”
“One Lie for Every Truth”
It’s been three days since Jade vanished from her guest bed.
No calls. No signs of life.
She’s pacing her kitchen floor in the same clothes she wore when Jade came over. She’s memorized the shade of lipstick on the coffee cup Jade left behind.
At 6:42 AM, she walks into the local police station.
“I’d like to file a missing person’s report.”
At the Station
The officer at the front desk asks routine questions.
“Name of the missing person?”
“Jade Wallace.”
“Relation?”
“Close friend.”
They hand her a clipboard.
She hesitates — not because she doesn’t know the answers, but because too much truth could undo her.
The Report (What She Writes):
- Jade arrived five nights ago for a “surprise visit.”
- They had wine, talked late, went to sleep.
- In the morning, she was gone.
- Her phone was in the fridge (she shrugs: “She’s funny like that”).
- Her bag was still there.
- No known enemies. No reason to leave.
What She Leaves Out:
- The killer’s notes.
- The lovers.
- The video of Devon.
- The fact she suspects someone is targeting her.
The detective on duty, Detective Brielle Sutter, reads her statement carefully.
“Odd that Jade would leave her phone and bag behind, huh?”
“She’s impulsive. Flighty. Emotional.”
“Where’s your husband?”
“Out of town. Work.”
Sutter makes notes.
“We’ll start with traffic cameras, phone pings, and hospitals. But if something’s not adding up... we’ll know.”
“I understand.”
Later That Day
They call her back in.
“We found camera footage. A woman matching Jade’s description walked barefoot down the side of Route 5 at 3:22 AM the morning she disappeared.”
She nods. Acts concerned.
“She didn’t have shoes. That’s not like her.”
“She didn’t look hurt. Just... empty.”
The detective gives her a look.
“You sure you don’t want to tell us anything else? Before this gets... complicated?”
She fakes a trembling hand.
“I just want my friend back.”
That night, a message is written on her bathroom mirror in red lipstick:
“Funny how fast you can lie to them.
Wonder what Jade would say now.”
And beside it — taped to the mirror — is a new photo.
Not of a lover.
Not of Jade.
It’s her. Sleeping.
From last night.
Chapter 11: “Only We Know”
“She’s Missing. But You’re Not Alone.”
She scrubs the lipstick off the mirror with shaking hands.
It won’t all come off. The words linger in faint red smears:
“Wonder what Jade would say now.”
She stares at the photo of herself sleeping.
Not just sleeping — vulnerable. Mouth slightly open. Hands curled like a child’s.
The time stamp is from last night.
While the police were questioning her.
Whoever this is…
They were in her house again.
That Night
She sits in the dark with every light off.
A knife under her pillow.
One lamp flickers in the hall.
She pulls out her old keepsake box. Inside are pictures from years ago—her and Jade, younger, laughing, wild.
One photo falls out.
One she doesn’t remember taking.
It’s her and Jade on a weekend trip in college — outside an abandoned lake cabin.
She flips it over.
Written in familiar handwriting:
“Go back to where you started.”
Her hands go numb.
That cabin was never public knowledge.
Only she and Jade ever went there.
She Makes a Choice
She doesn’t tell the police.
Not yet.
This clue feels personal.
The killer is playing chess — and she won’t give him the next move.
She packs a bag.
Leaves a note at home: “Gone for the weekend. Don’t wait up.”
Drives five hours north.
Middle of nowhere. Cabin road nearly swallowed by overgrowth.
The Cabin
She parks half a mile away. Walks the rest.
It looks exactly the same — but older. Grayer. Rotten.
The door is slightly ajar.
She enters.
Dust. Silence. Then —
A sound.
Something from upstairs. A soft dragging noise.
She climbs slowly.
Each stair creaks. The house feels like it’s breathing with her.
She reaches the bedroom.
On the bed:
- Jade’s shirt, folded neatly.
- A photograph of Jade… bound.
- A mirror across from the bed, cracked.
- And carved into the wall, in large uneven slashes:
“BRING THE REST. CONFESS. OR WATCH HER BLEED.”
She stumbles back, heart hammering.
And then—
From behind her—
“Took you long enough.”
She spins.
A shadow at the doorway.
A figure in a hoodie. Masked.
Before she can scream—he’s gone.
Just the faint sound of a door slamming shut and footsteps running through the woods.
She sinks to the floor.
Everything hurts.
She’s not just being hunted.
She’s being tested.
And the next move isn’t the killer’s.
It’s hers.
Excellent angle — showing what the police are thinking and doing behind the scenes adds tension, especially since they suspect something isn’t right, but don’t yet know how deep it goes.
Here’s a parallel storyline to run alongside your main character’s journey:
Chapter 12: “Behind the Glass”
What the Police Are Saying When She’s Not in the Room
Detective Brielle Sutter sits in the squad room with her partner, Detective Noah Briggs. A manila folder lies open between them.
Inside:
- Her signed statement.
- Jade’s missing person report.
- Traffic camera stills.
- A printed screenshot from a neighborhood Ring cam showing Jade wandering barefoot at night, dazed.
- A background report on her — the woman who filed the report.
Briggs: “Something stinks. People don’t just leave their phones in the fridge and vanish barefoot into the night.”
Sutter: “Jade’s scared of her. You saw that glance in the hospital. She didn’t say a word, but that look... that was loaded.”
Briggs: “Think she’s dangerous?”
Sutter: “I think she’s the key. Either she’s the victim of a very specific psycho… or she’s hiding something rotten.”
They dig deeper.
They pull her phone records.
- 12 unsaved numbers have called her repeatedly in the last month.
- Most for less than 10 seconds — hang-ups.
- One call at 2:19 AM the morning Jade vanished. No voicemail. Traced to a burner phone.
They pull security footage from the street outside her home.
- A figure dressed in dark clothing, entering her side yard at 3:17 AM.
- Exits five minutes later. Too blurry to ID, but clearly real.
Briggs: “So we’ve got a stalker. Or a setup.”
Next step?
They get a warrant for her laptop and home surveillance devices — if any exist.
But here’s the twist:
- When they visit her house, her laptop is missing.
- And her door is unlocked.
- No signs of forced entry.
They find something instead:
- In her bedroom drawer:
A ring, labeled and tagged with a post-it note: “Devon’s.”
Sutter (quietly): “Who the hell is Devon?”
Briggs: “Someone she forgot to mention.”
Sutter and Briggs stand outside her empty house.
Sutter: “We’re either looking at a woman running for her life... or a black widow watching her web fill up.”
Briggs: “Either way, let’s find Jade before we find a body.”
Chapter 13: “Three Sins and a Savior”
“If you won’t confess, I’ll do it for you.”
She drives back from the cabin with shaking hands. Her bag is beside her. Inside, the photo of Jade bound. The message carved into the cabin wall plays in her head on repeat:
“BRING THE REST. CONFESS. OR WATCH HER BLEED.”
Back in the City
She returns to find her house exactly as she left it —
Except her laptop is missing.
And her front door, slightly ajar.
She walks in slowly.
A manila envelope is on the counter.
Inside:
- Printouts of emails she sent old lovers.
- Screenshots of hotel bookings under false names.
- One image of her and Devon, clearly mid-affair.
And a note:
“You lied to them. You lie to the police.
Tell me—how many more should die for your honesty?”
A Choice is Made
She sits at her dining table and writes down three names:
- Elijah Torres – Former colleague, still obsessed with her.
- Miles Brewster – Married, she ended it after a one-night relapse.
- Andre Fulton – The first man who truly broke her, but came crawling back.
She knows these are the next three he will hunt.
She also knows she’s the one who brought them into the fire.
So she decides:
“If I can’t stop him… maybe I can trade myself.”
Meanwhile — Detective Sutter
The detectives now have her browser history.
Briggs throws down a photo.
Briggs: “Devon Banks. Found his social. Deactivated three weeks ago. No family, no work history since his last paycheck in April.”
Sutter: “She didn’t list him anywhere. Didn’t mention his name once.”
Briggs: “Here’s the kicker — his phone last pinged two blocks from her house. Three days before he went dark.”
They decide to visit Elijah Torres — name flagged in her recent texts.
Elijah Torres: Interrogation
“She’s magnetic, I’ll say that. But she’s not innocent.”
“Why do you say that?”
“Because when she cut me off, she said someone was watching her. Said I should disappear before he made me pay.”
“Did you?”
“Yeah. But now you’re here, so I guess he found me anyway.”
Sutter’s phone buzzes.
[NEW EMAIL ALERT: from an untraceable address]
Subject: “CONFESSION #1”
Attachment: A recording.
In the clip:
Devon.
Bound.
Bloody.
Screaming.
A voice off-camera asks:
“Do you regret loving her?”
Devon: “She didn’t love me back.”
gunshot
Back at Her House
She hears the front door creak.
Footsteps.
She grabs the knife from under her pillow again and waits.
But it’s not the killer.
It’s Miles Brewster.
“I heard what’s happening. I had to see you.”
“You shouldn’t have come.”
“I still love you. I always—”
She kisses him to shut him up.
To feel something human.
To delay her fear.
They fall into bed — desperation, guilt, and fear rolled into one.
And after, he lies asleep.
And the note is already there, by the window:
“Two sins down. One to go.”
Chapter 14: “The Last One Left”
“You never forget your first betrayal.”
She knows who’s next.
Andre Fulton was never meant to matter. She was young. He was thrilling, older, dangerous in the way forbidden things always are.
But he had a hold on her. And now he may be in danger just for being part of her past.
She drives to his last known address. A quiet condo off the water. She hasn’t seen him in six years.
When he answers the door, he doesn’t look surprised.
“You always show up when things fall apart.”
“I’m here to warn you.”
“No. You’re here to see if I’ll forgive you.”
They talk for hours. Old wounds. Late apologies. Hidden truths. He touches her hand.
“Tell me why you're really here.”
She looks at him. Eyes red. Exhausted.
“Because someone’s killing the men I’ve loved.”
A beat of silence.
“Then we better make peace before I die.”
Chapter 15: “The House That Shouldn’t Breathe”
“He’s inside. You always let him in.”
She dreams that night. Of Devon. Of Miles. Of Jade screaming in a place without light.
When she wakes up in Andre’s bed, the walls feel too close. Like they’re leaning in.
She heads to the kitchen.
And stops cold.
Carved into the tabletop is a phrase:
“CONFESSION 3 DELIVERED. DO YOU FEEL CLEAN YET?”
Her blood turns to ice.
She runs back to the bedroom.
Andre is still breathing.
Alive.
But on his chest is a single item:
Jade’s necklace.
She gasps. Takes a step back.
There’s a whisper outside the window.
She opens the curtains—nothing.
Except a shadow moving through the alley.
She rushes outside—barefoot. Chasing.
The figure disappears into the dark. Laughing.
Chapter 16: “Thread the Needle”
“We’re in your house. We never left.”
Detectives Sutter and Briggs now have the phone footage from the lake cabin. Security cams from a nearby hiking trail show her car parked for hours.
> Sutter: “She lied about leaving town. She was never on the highway cameras.”
> Briggs: “And now Jade’s necklace shows up with lover number three? This woman is either playing the long con, or she’s being hunted by a ghost.”
They pull records on Jade’s childhood. Turns out Jade had a brother. Died young. Rumored suicide.
His name?
Devon.
> Briggs: “You don’t think—”
> Sutter: “Different Devon? Couldn’t be.”
But her heart pounds anyway.
Because if it’s the same Devon…
This isn’t about random revenge.
It’s personal.
Long-planned.
And maybe — she's not the real target.
Maybe she’s just the mirror.
Chapter 17: “She’s Not the Same Girl”
Jade’s Point of View
She wakes to darkness again.
She doesn’t scream anymore. It doesn’t help.
She counts time in drips of water from a leaky pipe.
In the steps above her head when he walks.
In the phrases he whispers through the vent:
“She left you. I never would.”
“She kills them. I just finish the job.”
“You’re the only one who matters.”
She doesn’t know how long she’s been here, but she knows something terrifying:
The killer isn’t trying to hurt her.
He’s trying to replace her.
He talks about being her. Wearing her like a second skin.
One day, he slides a mirror under the door.
“Practice your smile. She’ll be watching.”
Chapter 18: “False Light”
“To survive a trap, you must first pretend to believe it’s real.”
She returns to her house. Alone.
For the first time, she opens Devon’s old texts, now restored from a cloud backup she finds through a desperate search.
In them:
- He was in love.
- He was obsessed.
- He called her his “red-lipped resurrection.”
- And Jade… had responded. Warmly. Flirtatiously.
She stares at the screen in shock.
Jade was in contact with Devon.
“Was it love?”
“Or something worse?”
Then the phone buzzes.
Unknown number. One message.
A link.
She clicks.
It opens her own surveillance camera from inside the house.
She didn’t even know it was turned on.
The footage is live.
And it shows her, sleeping in her bed.
But… she’s awake. Watching it.
Which means—
Someone else is in her house.
Right now.
Chapter 19: “Room with No Corners”
“Confession without consequence is just foreplay.”
She doesn’t scream. She moves. Fast.
She grabs the fire poker, checks every room.
Nothing.
Until she finds it.
The crawlspace door, inside her closet, is cracked open.
She pulls it open with shaking hands.
Inside:
- A makeshift bed.
- A pile of wrappers.
- Photos of her, taken through peepholes and mirrors.
- And taped to the far wall — a map.
Each pin on the map is color-coded:
- Red for deceased lovers.
- Yellow for living ones.
- Green for detectives.
And in the center — a single pinned photo.
Her.
Above it, scrawled in ink:
“THE ONLY ONE WHO CAN BE CLEANSED.”
She collapses, clutching her chest.
But she’s not alone.
Behind her, the closet door creaks shut.
Voice: “Ready for the real confession?”
Chapter 20: “The Truth According to Her”
“Red lips. Black heart. Clean hands.”
The voice in the closet asks again:
“Ready for the real confession?”
She closes her eyes. Breathes in. And finally answers:
“I already gave it… just not to you.”
FLASHBACK — Five Years Earlier
She’s younger. Wilder. A waitress in a backroom club, covered in cigarette smoke and charm. She’s dating two men.
Devon was the quiet one. The “good” one.
The other — Marcus — was rougher. Addicted to her, and her chaos.
It was 2019. Devon was working security. Marcus had just come out of rehab. I was twenty-five. Still broke. Still beautiful. Still dangerous. I didn’t know it would end in blood—but I wasn’t surprised.
One night, she played them both.
Both showed up to her apartment.
A fight broke out.
Marcus fell.
Devon saw her cover it up — then seduce him to keep him quiet.
She told the police Marcus overdosed.
Devon never recovered. He vanished weeks later.
She… moved on.
Chapter 21: “The Blackout Diaries”
“You call it love. I call it control.”
Back in the crawlspace, the killer speaks slowly.
“Devon died for you.”
She turns.
“Devon killed someone for me. Then disappeared. I thought he left.”
“He didn’t.”
A beat.
“You buried him in your memory. But not in the ground.”
She looks again at the map.
One pin isn’t on the surface. It’s stabbed into a folded flap on the paper — hidden.
She opens it.
Underneath:
A sketch of the cabin.
A name carved beneath it.
“Marcus. 2019.”
Her breath catches.
“You dug him up?” she whispers.
The killer answers:
“No. I just visited. He told me everything.”
Chapter 22: “Dead Girls Lie Beautifully”
Jade’s fate. A final test. A final truth.
Meanwhile, in a locked basement far away…
Jade is on the floor. Her body weak. But her mind—sharp.
She’s pieced it together.
The killer doesn’t just want revenge.
He wants a re-creation.
Of the first kill.
Devon killed Marcus because of her.
Now someone wants her to kill again.
A test.
He throws her a knife.
“You want to go home? Finish the story.”
She lifts it. Her hands trembling.
Then she hears it.
A siren.
Police.
Jade drops the knife.
And screams:
“I’m not her!”
The door flies open.
Detective Sutter enters, gun drawn.
Behind her…
The woman who started it all.
“She’s not me,” she whispers.
“I never wanted to kill. But I won’t run anymore.”
Chapter 23: “The Warmest Lie”
“Justice is cold. He is not.”
Weeks have passed.
The story of Lustville has gone national.
TV specials. Podcasts. A book deal in the works.
She sits for interviews in soft lighting.
Tells the world how she "survived" heartbreak and horror.
Smiles just enough to be believed.
Detective Sutter is the media’s hero.
The savior who broke the case, rescued Jade, and revealed the killer as a mentally fractured man obsessed with romantic punishment.
The world eats it up.
But in private…
Sutter has questions.
Too many holes in the timeline.
Too many lovers with no digital trail.
Too many scars hidden behind lipstick.
Chapter 24: “His House, Her Rules”
“You can’t arrest what you can’t prove.”
She visits Detective Sutter’s place late one night.
He opens the door in shock.
“What are you doing here?”
“Returning the favor.”
He hesitates. Then steps aside. He didn’t stop her. Not because he trusted her—but because deep down, he feared what she’d do if he tried.
They talk. About the case. About Jade. About the press.
Then she kisses him.
Hard.
He doesn’t stop her.
In bed, she traces her fingers along his spine.
“You don’t believe me.”
“No,” he whispers. “I don’t believe you,” he said.
She leaned in anyway.
He closed his eyes. He knew this wasn’t justice. He knew this wasn’t smart. But something about her made guilt feel quiet. It made consequence feel far away.
“Then why did you let me in?”
He doesn’t answer.
She smiles.
“Because you want to.”
And she leans in and whispers:
“You're just like the others.”
He tenses. But she holds him down softly.
“You’ll keep my secret, won’t you?”
Chapter 25: “Lustville Never Closes”
“It wasn’t survival. It was hunger.”
Later that night, she opens her laptop.
Drafts a new email.
Subject line: “To Whom It May Concern: My Story”
But the body of the email is blank.
Instead, she opens a private folder.
It’s full of photos. Names. Locations. Phone numbers.
New men.
New sins.
New chapters.
Final line:
She smiles at her screen and types softly,
“Welcome to Lustville. Population: you.”
The End.