The Curse of Death

Abductors bind me in a basement, subjecting me to the torment of dozens. Meanwhile, my husband, Evan Foster, dines by candlelight with his lover, Carmen Locke.

My abductors grant me one chance to call for help, and I dial Evan's number. I'm certain he will come for me. I believe Evan would give his life for me, as he once vowed that his future held no meaning without me.

Clinging to hope, I call the number etched in my heart. However, Evan scolds me for interrupting their date. "You think I'll come get you? Dream on. Maybe I'll bother to collect your body if you die out there."

His words crush me, and I do die.

Five days later, Evan stands before the autopsy table, grimacing at the mangled remains before him.

Even as the police department's finest forensic expert, having dissected thousands of bodies, he condemns the killer's brutality.

Yet, despite his cold dismissal of my desperate plea over the phone, he now wears a look of pity.

Evan, if you knew these fragments belonged to me, would you still find me worthy of your compassion?

I could still remember that I'd left the house to prepare for my wedding anniversary.

Evan Foster and I had been married for two years. When I was on the brink of death, he had donated a kidney to me. We were more than just an ordinary married couple. We were one in both soul and body.

Thus, even though he had been neglecting me lately, I continued to believe he loved me.

On this day, the day of our wedding anniversary, I had a secret to tell Evan. I was certain that once he found out, he would return to my side.

All of a sudden, a car pulled up beside me. Someone covered my mouth, and I felt a sharp pain on the back of my head before losing consciousness altogether.

When I woke up, I was undressed and tied to a bed. Three men were on top of me, and over a dozen were waiting for their turn around me. There was also a camera in front of me recording everything.

I screamed. I cried. I begged.

But not only did they not stop what they were doing, they even tormented me even more ferociously.

An hour passed, then another. It went on for 12 whole hours.

Eventually, I lay half-dead on the floor that was stained with all sorts of liquids mixed with my blood. Still, I gritted my teeth and held on.

I didn't want to die. I wanted to go back to Evan. Once he realized I was missing, he would surely come looking for me.

One of my abductors ungagged me and handed me a phone, saying, "Call your husband. We'll release you if he's willing to pay a ransom to save you."

Eyes gleaming with hope, I struggled into a sitting position and made the call.

Evan would definitely come and get me! He was at home waiting for me to celebrate our anniversary together!

However, the call was rejected three times. On the fourth time, he answered, "What kind of trick are you trying to pull this time, Lyra? You want me to come and get you? In your dreams! Perhaps if you drop dead somewhere, then I'll consider handling your body for you."

As the call cut off, my eyes dimmed.

I heard the sounds in the background during the call. There was piano music, and a woman speaking coyly to him. I recognized the voice. It belonged to Carmen Locke.

Evan was spending our wedding anniversary with another woman. Even when I was about to die, he was irritated that I'd interrupted their date.

My abductor came at me with a chainsaw. I slumped back onto the dirtied floor and closed my eyes in despair.

…

Evan's brows were deeply furrowed as he opened the suitcase on top of the autopsy table. The suitcase had been stuffed to the brim with dozens of pieces of human body parts. All of the blood had dried up and turned brown.

He took all of the human remains out, only to find that the head was missing.

Shaun Jefferson, Evan's assistant, handed him a scalpel, but he didn't take it. Instead, he kept staring at the body parts that had to be assembled like a puzzle.