EVE 1: It's a woman

  It was the morning of a rainy December day. I paved my way to work as usual, bought a cup of coffee from the nearest store, where I met Andy, an old friend I hadn’t seen in years. He said he was in town for work, but I knew that he teaches in a catholic school which meant he was currently on a Christmas holiday. Without even saying goodbye, he ditched me to talk to another friend of his. He’s still the same weird Andy I’ve always known, I thought. At that moment, my colleague called and said he needed me in a case. Less than ten minutes afterwards, I was there.

  Nothing is more interesting than crime scenes. That’s exactly what I dedicated my life to despite all the sexist and disdainful remarks I hear every day, investigating and analyzing crime scenes. A mansion with a case in each room, a murder in every single chamber, some contained footprints and weapons, others only bloody sheets and hanging bodies, peaked amid the countless buildings spread across the valley. As I entered the last room, a foul mixture of rot and dust reeked from every corner, and yet neither body nor blood were there. After a few seconds of searching in my mind palace for an explanation, I knew I was next. But no detective wants his murder to go unsolved, at least not for them. Thousands of ideas all rushing at once, trying so hard to find the connection between all the victims, how stupid I was not to notice from the very beginning. It was all planned. Every detail of the day was planned. I knew that Andy had something to do with this, his behavior was suspicious this morning.

    Seconds after hearing the long awaited footsteps drumming along the hallway, I broke a small mirror, grabbed a piece of glass and waited behind the door. The moment he entered, I stabbed him on the left side of his neck, punctured his artery and pulled away the piece of glass, giving him no more than one to three minutes. It was obvious that he worked for someone. Such a devious mastermind would never appear on a crime scene, instead using others for no more than their bodily strength as tools for their murders. But who are they? This was the only missing piece of the puzzle, and the only reason I kept my attacker alive barely long enough to torture him out of his loyalty. A few seconds of digging my fingers through his gaping wound proved to be quite efficient. He blurted out a name in agony seconds before he was gone: Eve. The name made me shudder. For the first time, I found myself stuck and incapable of thinking. I’ve never dealt with a woman before. I jumped out of the room’s window and disappeared.

                                                                                                                      To be continued…