I threw up as soon as I set my eyes on the Sunday morning headlines. I read the whole report over and over again, not missing a single detail to make myself believe what was printed. I dropped down on the floor, hid my face and sobbed uncontrollably. Allen came up to me and comforted me. He had this certain charm which could comfort me in any situation.

“9 murders. In our society” I stammered. “Yes. I heard. I’m sorry about it. Stephanie was one of the victims wasn’t she?” he asked in a calm voice. I nodded while whimpering like a little hurt puppy. “Now see, I’m late for my flight. I’ve got to leave you now. I have some important business to finish off. I’ll be back next week. I’ll call up Joseph and ask him to be with you right now, I know you need someone. I love you, bye” and with that he left the house.

Joseph came over immediately and offered to stay with me till the murderer was caught. I refused politely and told him to let me be. He left after a little while. I tried not to think about what had happened, and was constantly praying that the mad serial killer should be caught and hanged. The whole week went by without any more reports of any murders in this area. But that crazy psychopath was still loose, and there was no chance of my soul being at rest until he was caught. I was cautious about each and every movement that I made. I was terrified by the thought of finding myself face to face with him someday.

The Saturday evening news made me smile a weak smile for the first time this week. They reported that the man responsible for all the murders in Park Avenue Society had been caught and had been imprisoned in the local city jail and he would then be transferred to a high security prison in Malaysia later on next week. Instantly I took out the car and drove to the city jail. I had to see him behind the bars for myself, then and only then would I be able to sleep peacefully tonight. Detective Inspector Collin Hunt guided me to Shaw’s prison. So that was his name. Shaw. Suits a murderer, I thought. I saw a man sulking in the corner. He had short cropped hair, and numerous bruises all over his arms and face. Relieved to see him, I thanked Collin and headed back home.

I sighed in relief as my breathing turned back normal again. The frown on my face settled down and changed into a comforted smile. All that I wanted to do now was to go home and have a good night’s sleep without any worries clinging to my previously frightened brain.

I parked my car in the driveway and put on my jacket as I stepped out. I felt unusually cold. It was the kind of weather which sent shivers throughout my body. Locking the car, I walked back to the main gate to lock it up. I headed towards my house quickly, desperate to escape the freezing cold wind. That is when I saw it. A set of heavy footprints in the snow right next to the steps which led up to the balcony. And I froze. I felt a sudden warm feeling of a rush of blood through my head. The front door creaked open and I saw a faint light coming from the living room. I gathered all the courage that I could, and walked in silently. I followed the dim trace of light, and it brought me face to face with death.

There he was standing in a dark corner of the room with a classic weapon, a dagger, clutched tightly in his hand. He was holding on to it with such great force that the blade had started sinking deeper and deeper into his arm, tearing open his flesh. His bloodshot eyes and booming loud maniacal laugh shook me to the core. Dressed in blood-covered rags and torn pants, with his signature royal blue shawl wrapped securely around his head, he dragged himself barefoot towards me. I held my breath as he stepped into the light, any second now I would know his identity. He took another step ahead and revealed his face to me. I gasped with fright. His face was a mess. I couldn’t recognise him but I had a strange feeling that I knew him. He came closer, snarling at me incessantly. Before I could see his face clearly, he caught me by my waist, and held me tightly with the dagger stroking my neck playfully. His touch felt oddly familiar. I struggled to break free, but all my efforts were in vain.

“I’m sorry” he said in a soft and comforting familiar voice which had a slight sense of guilt to it, and made my heart pound even faster. He slashed the blade across my neck and left me there bleeding from the gash. I was left to die there all alone. He could have simply finished me off, but he chose not to. He wanted his important business to finish itself on its own.

Ironic isn’t it? To die in the ‘living’ room.