The Blonde Target

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My boyfriend was getting intimate with my best friend right above me.

I was hiding under the bed, secretly recording everything.

Suddenly, her moans turned into bloodcurdling screams.

The bed shook violently, and blood cascaded onto the floor like a waterfall.

Then, my best friends severed head rolled off the mattress, her wide, dead eyes staring straight at me.

01

My soul nearly left my body.

"What is happening? Did my boyfriend just kill someone?"

I had only come here today to catch a cheater. I never expected to stumble into a murder scene.

Above me, my boyfriend, Ethan, was chuckling darkly. The wet, sickening sound of a blade piercing flesh was clear and rhythmic.

I clamped my hand over my mouth, forcing myself to stay silent as tears streamed down my face.

"Why? Why is he doing this?"

A few minutes later, Ethans movements stopped. As if exhausted from the exertion, he lay back on the blood-soaked bed and lit a cigarette.

Just then, my phone buzzed with a WeChat notification.

My heart slammed against my ribs. I desperately covered the phone.

But he heard the vibration.

"Hmm?" He made a questioning sound.

The mattress creaked. He was lifting the covers, looking for the source of the noise.

I almost sobbed out loud, fumbling frantically to switch my phone to silent mode.

The second I hit the mute switch, Ethan called me.

Buzz... Buzz...

The silent call screen lit up the darkness under the bed.

He let it ring for a full minute. When I didn't answer, he hung up and sent a voice message.

"Babe, are you asleep? I have to work late tonight, so I won't be coming home."

After sending it, I saw his feet slide into slippers and hit the floor.

The floor was covered in Sarahs blood. Ethan walked through it, leaving a trail of bloody footprints.

He seemed to be searching for something in the room.

Suddenly, he coughed violently twice.

I jolted, so tense I forgot to breathe.

Sarahs bloody head was right in front of me, staring. Her severed neck was still oozing, her face frozen in a mask of shock and terror.

Ethan walked around the room naked but didn't seem to find anything.

He went to the kitchen, grabbed a cleaver, and returned to the bed.

His large feet were inches from my face. Then, he began to dismantle the body. Chop after chop, as casual as a butcher cutting meat.

Accidentally, he kicked Sarahs head.

The gory object rolled deeper under the bed, coming to rest cheek-to-cheek with me.

I slammed my hands over my mouth, shaking uncontrollably. The metallic stench of blood was overpowering; I wanted to vomit.

I don't know where I got the courage, but I reached out and pushed her head outward slightly.

Just as Ethan stepped forward, he kicked the head like a soccer ball, sending it flying across the room.

Ethan paused, stopping his work.

Blood dripped steadily from the cleaver in his hand.

I prayed silently in my heart:

Don't look under the bed. Please, don't look under the bed.

After a few seconds of hesitation, he walked over to retrieve the head.

I let out a silent breath. I was safe for the moment.

My brain raced, trying to find a way out.

Sarah lived on the 10th floor. Jumping out the window was impossible. My only chance was to wait until Ethan finished disposing of the body and left.

But could I last that long?

Blood was spreading toward me. I wormed my body further back, trying to avoid the crimson pool inching toward my lips.

Ethan chopped for a while longer. Suddenly, one of Sarahs hands fell to the floor.

My heart nearly stopped. If he bent down to pick it up, he would definitely see me.

Ethan paused, then slowly bent at the waist to grab the hand.

I squeezed my eyes shut, choking back a scream, praying to any god that would listen.

The next second, a knock pounded on the door.

02

Ethan froze, holding that bent-over posture, motionless.

Bang, bang, bang.

The knocking continued, followed by a loud shout:

"I'm back! Open the door!"

I recognized the voice. It was Mike, Sarahs boyfriend.

Ethan hesitated for a moment, coughed twice, then straightened up and walked toward the door.

He put on some clean clothes, hid the cleaver behind his back, and stood by the entrance.

My stomach twisted into knots. If Mike broke in and fought Ethan, maybe I could escape in the chaos.

Thinking this, I scooted closer to the edge of the bed, ready to bolt.

Ethan hesitated, then opened the door.

"What took so long?" Mikes voice sounded irritated from the hallway.

My heart went cold. Mike knew about the affair? It sounded like the two men had an arrangement.

Ethan smoked his cigarette, saying nothing.

Only then did Mike notice the blood on Ethan and the nauseating smell filling the air. His face went pale.

"You... what did you do?"

Ethan smiled eerily.

"Isn't it obvious?"

"You... you killed her?"

Mike was stunned. He grabbed Ethans collar.

"You said we were just playing around! Why did you kill her?"

"I thought you didn't care if she lived or died," Ethan said calmly. Murder seemed as trivial to him as buying groceries.

Mike collapsed to the floor, gasping for air.

Ethans eyes were cold, but his lips curved into a smile.

"Help me get rid of her. If the cops find out, you won't get away with it either."

Mike snapped, shouting, "Bullshit! You killed her! I didn't know anything! You can't drag me down with you!"

Ethan moved suddenly. He grabbed Mike by the collar and pressed the cleaver against his throat.

"Let me rephrase. Help me dispose of her, or I'll kill you right now."

Mike finally broke. His lips trembled, unable to speak, so he just nodded vigorously.

Ethan released him and jerked his head toward the bedroom, signaling him to start.

Mike walked shakily to the bed. Despite being mentally prepared, seeing Sarahs butchered remains made him vomit instantly.

"Useless," Ethan sneered. He picked up two large garbage bags and went into the kitchen.

I huddled under the bed, watching Mike retch while he tried to bag the body parts.

Suddenly, a piece of Sarahs arm fell to the floor again.

Mike bent down to pick it up and froze.

He saw me.

My eyes trembled. I pressed a finger to my lips in a "shh" motion.

Mike instinctively looked toward the kitchen. He didn't speak.

His lips moved silently, and I read his words:

Run. Call the police.

I shuddered and nodded hard.

Ethan was chopping something loudly in the kitchen, oblivious to the situation here.

I slowly crawled out from under the bed, my bare feet squelching on the blood-slicked floor.

I inched toward the door.

The distance was only a few steps, but it felt like miles.

I kept my eyes glued to the kitchen, terrified Ethan would turn around.

Perhaps because the chopping was too loud, or maybe Mike was intentionally making noise to cover me, I made it out the door.

In the hallway, a cold draft hit me, making me shiver. Only then did I realize my clothes were soaked through with cold sweat.

I tried to run, but my legs gave out, and I collapsed.

It might have been my imagination, but I thought I saw the door handle behind me turn.

The overwhelming will to survive flooded my body with adrenaline. I scrambled up and ran toward the stairs.

I lived in the same building as Sarah. She was on the 10th floor; I was on the 18th.

When I bought the place, Sarah told me the 18th floor was bad luck, but I wasn't superstitious, and it was cheap.

I ran up eight flights of stairs in one breath. Reaching my door, I fumbled to open the smart lock and rushed inside, finally feeling a sliver of safety.

I slapped myself hard across the face to make sure what I just saw wasn't a nightmare.

In my mind, Ethan was a gentle, mild-mannered man. An honest guy who would rather suffer a loss than hurt others.

I couldn't reconcile him with that psychopathic killer.

And judging by his proficiency, this wasn't his first kill.

03

A few days ago, I noticed something was off. I found a long pink hair on his coat. It was a rare dye color, and Sarah had just dyed her hair that shade.

At first, I didn't want to believe it. Ethan loved me. The only times I ever saw him angry were when someone mistreated me.

Sarah was promiscuous and morally loose, while Ethan was the quiet, stoic type. I didn't think they would hook up.

But reality hit me hard.

While Ethan was sleeping, I checked his phone.

Initially, I found nothing. But soon, I discovered a "Second Space"a hidden interface on his phone.

Inside, it wasn't just dating apps. There was a dedicated account for contacting Sarah.

And then there were the photos.

Horrifying, grotesque photos. Girls being tortured, bruised, battered.

Some were dismembered, chopped in half.

All the girls had blonde hair.

I have blonde hair.

I never imagined that beneath his gentle exterior, his fetishes were this vile.

Then I saw the chat logs with Sarah.

Sar-bear: "Honey, he's not home tomorrow. I'll wait for you."

Sar-bear: "Don't worry, I'll give you an experience Chloe never could."

Attached was a nude photo.

Ethan replied with a suggestive sticker.

I was consumed by rage and tears.

I never thought my best friend would seduce my boyfriend.

That was why I left work early today and hid under her bedto catch them in the act.

I never expected Ethan to butcher her.

Why?

And Mike knew about their affair. Why didn't he stop it?

My mind was a mess. I pulled at my hair helplessly.

After a moment of shock, I realized I had to call the police. Mike was in danger.

I grabbed my phone with trembling hands. The case was stained red with blood.

"Hello? 911, what is your emergency?"

A gentle female voice answered. I was overjoyed and about to speak.

At the exact same moment, the sound of my smart lock opening echoed through the apartment.

Beep. Fingerprint verified. Door open.

I froze, terror washing over my face.

"Hello? Ma'am?" the dispatcher asked.

I hung up immediately. Ethan walked into the living room.

"Babe? Not asleep yet? Who were you calling?"

"No... no one," I stammered, face pale, body shaking.

He had changed into clean clothes. He looked like the same refined, gentle man as always.

Completely different from the butcher at the murder scene.

"Babe, why is there blood on your clothes?"

He noticed the stains and looked slightly surprised.

I gritted my teeth to keep from screaming.

"I... fell off my bike."

He stared at me, his expression complex.

"So, the person who ran away just now... was you?"

I felt like Id been struck by lightning. My legs went soft.

Ethan stepped forward and caught me.

"Sorry, babe. Did I scare you?"

He blushed slightly, looking as guilty as a child who broke a vase.

"Don't be afraid. I won't hurt you."

I shoved him away with all my strength, retreating a few steps.

"You... why did you kill her?"

He looked at me calmly.

"Babe, she was your best friend, yet she seduced me. Didn't she deserve to die?"

I was stunned.

"Just for that? You killed her?"

He nodded and tried to hug me again. I dodged.

"She claimed to be your best friend but hurt you like that. I couldn't stand it. She had to die."

I stared at him. This face was so familiar, yet so alien.

His reason was absurd.

"Hypocrite! Then why did you sleep with her?"

He went silent, lowering his head.

"I'm sorry, babe. But you have to believe me. I really did it for you."

I suddenly remembered something. I stared wide-eyed.

"What about Mike?"

"Dead."

"No... I have to call the police."

Panic overtook me. I grabbed my phone, but Ethan snatched it away, a flash of ferocity in his eyes.

I shivered and backed away, afraid he would snap and kill me too.

But the murderous look vanished instantly. He grabbed my shoulders, looking at me sincerely.

"Babe, just pretend you didn't see anything today. I'll handle everything."

"Can we go back to living like we used to?"

I trembled, then nodded.

No matter what, I had to feign compliance to have any hope of escape.

Seeing I forgave him, Ethan seemed happy. He coughed twice, hugged me tight, then pulled a necklace from his pocket and clasped it around my neck.

"Babe, tomorrow is our anniversary. This is your gift. I wanted to give it to you tomorrow."

He smiled at me.

I looked down at the necklace, trembling.

"Babe, I won't let anyone who wants to hurt you get away with it."

I didn't speak. I eyed the heavy metal water bottle on the table.

He let go of me, his face gentle.

"Look at you, covered in filth. Go wash up."

"Mhm."

I waited for him to turn slightly. Then I grabbed the water bottle and smashed it into the back of his head with everything I had.

He groaned, stumbled back, blood streaming down his forehead. His eyes were full of shock.

I didn't look back. I threw the door open and ran for my life.

Ethan sighed, wiping the blood from his face.

"Why... why just won't you listen?"

04

I knew I wouldn't get far before Ethan caught me. If he did, I was dead.

I ran down to the 17th floor and pounded on the door of unit 1703.

Professor Sterling lived there. I didn't know his first name, just called him Professor.

He moved in recently, in his 30s, refined and scholarly. I had a good impression of him.

"Professor Sterling! Professor! Are you home? Ethan is trying to kill me!"

I hammered on the door, screaming in terror.

Footsteps echoed from the stairwell. Ethan was coming.

There was no movement inside. I started to cry.

"Babe, come home. This is your last chance."

Ethan's gloomy face emerged from the darkness of the stairwell like a demon from hell, approaching step by step.

Just as I fell into despair, the door opened.

A pair of hands yanked me inside. Slam. The door locked.

The relief of surviving made me gasp for air. Arms wrapped around my shoulders.

Under Professor Sterlings comfort, I slowly calmed down. Finding a safe harbor, I hugged him and wailed.

Sterlings body stiffened noticeably. I felt his breathing accelerate. After a hesitation, he hugged me back.

I cried for five minutes before calming down, releasing him awkwardly.

"I'm sorry, Professor, I..."

Sterling adjusted his glasses, interrupting my apology. When he saw the blood on my clothes, he paused but quickly recovered.

"Miss Chloe, what happened? Fight with Ethan?"

Terror filled my face. I shook my head.

"Ethan is a murderer. He killed my best friend and her boyfriend. I think he wants to kill me now."

Sterling looked stunned, lowering his head in thought.

"You're not joking?"

"No! I saw it with my own eyes."

I patted my pockets anxiously to call the police, remembering Ethan still had my phone.

"Professor, please call 911! If he gets in, we're done!"

Sterling nodded, stood up, and dialed the number, explaining the situation to the dispatcher.

After hanging up, he leaned against the table, staring at me with a strange expression.

I was about to speak when violent banging shook the door.

"Babe, stop making a scene. Come home."

Ethans voice came from the hallway.

"Ethan, I've called the police! Turn yourself in!" I shouted back, trembling.

Ethan was silent for a moment, hit the door hard once more, then his footsteps receded. He seemed to have left.

I collapsed onto the sofa.

Sterling was still staring at me. His gaze was oddfull of suspicion and doubt.

"Chloe, calm down. What exactly happened?"

I told him everything about today, detail by detail.

His expression shifted, becoming serious.

"Chloe, have you heard of the Westside Strangler?"

I paused, my eyes changing slightly, then nodded slowly.

"The Westside Strangler is a serial killer. In six years, he brutally raped and murdered five women."

"He's extremely skilled at counter-surveillance. I was fortunate enough to consult for the task force hunting him... I know some inside details."

He looked down.

"The Strangler's victims were all blondes without exception. The killer has a specific fetish."

"And you happen to be blonde. Plus the photos you found on Ethan's phone..."

A strange light flashed in Sterling's eyes.

"I am certain. Ethan is the Westside Strangler."

I sat frozen, unable to process it.

I had been married to Ethan for four years. He had always been kind to me, never losing his temper.

Was I just prey he was raising for the slaughter?

No wonder he was so efficient at killing Sarah.

I sat on the floor, pulling at my hair in agony.

If I hadn't found out today, I would have ended up like those girls.

Sterling sighed and patted my shoulder.

"Don't be afraid. You're safe for now. The police will be here soon."

I looked at him blankly and nodded.

Sterling boiled water and made me a cup of tea.

It smelled incredibly fragrant, soothing my nerves.

"Thank you, Professor."

I smiled gently at him.

He seemed shy, coughing lightly, cheeks flushing.

"It's nothing. I couldn't just leave you to die."

After drinking the tea, I checked the time. It had been almost an hour since the call. Why weren't the police here?

Sterling saw my confusion and comforted me:

"Don't worry. They should be here any minute."

He stood up, smiling slightly.

"After all this, you must be exhausted. Sleep for a bit."

I hesitated, but my mind was indeed nearing collapse, so I agreed.

He walked to the closet to get me a blanket.

Strange. He lived alone. Why did he have a pink duvet set?

Exhaustion hit me like a wave. I yawned, eyelids heavy.

Suddenly, a loud crash startled me.

Sterling had accidentally knocked over a box while getting the duvet.

I walked over to help him pick it up.

"No need, I got it," his voice pitched up two octaves. He tried to block me.

But I had already flipped the box open.

My eyes widened in horror.