A Boxful of Truth

My time was limited. Each month, both a friend or family member would disappear on the 1st, and their body found on the 10th, mutilated. The police were useless, they didn’t care, they were getting paid to sit around all day, so why would they investigate such things? I had taken it upon myself to find the murderer, no longer would I lose the ones closest to me. I knew I’d be next, I had but one friend and my mother left. Every night I dreamt of the murderer and the victims. The bodies covered in blood, their faces almost unrecognisable with their insides ripped out.

Continue reading