A Bystander's Final Confession

From the direction of the scream, it had to be from one of the lower floors.

My mind raced through the names: Ryder, Jesse, Marcus, or Mr. Finch.

My first instinct was to open the door and check, but as I reached the door and my hand grasped the doorknob, I stopped.

Something was wrong.

The previous two murders had been silent. Why did someone scream so loudly this time?

Every instinct I had screamed that this was wrong.

It sounded less like a victim's genuine terror and more like a performance the killer had allowed.

Why would he do that? To lure others out of their apartments?

My hand unconsciously tightened on the doorknob as I stood behind the door, my mind racing.

Then a chilling thought pierced through my haze: Someone... is right outside my door.

The thought sent an icy chill crawling up my spine.

I forced myself to calm down.

To test my theory, I forced my shaking hands to pull up the live feed from my smart doorbell.

It was those eyes again! The same terrifying, malicious, bloodshot eyes!

He was right outside! Waiting for me to open the door!

Before a scream could escape my throat, I clamped a hand over my mouth, terrified the sound of my own frantic heartbeat would give me away.

I tiptoed back to the living room before I dared to take a deep breath, my whole body shaking uncontrollably.

I couldn't bear to think what would have happened if I'd recklessly thrown open the door moments ago.

When I was standing just inside, my hand on the doorknob, he was standing on the other side, weapon in hand, waiting for me to open the door.

Call the police!

Yes, I had to call the police immediately!

My hands shaking, I dialed Detective Donovan's number, my voice trembling with terror.

"Detective Donovan... come quickly! There's been another death in the building! The killer, he's... he's standing right outside my door right now. I saw those eyes again. I'm so scared..."

"Don't be afraid. Stay inside and don't move. Don't open the door for anyone. We'll be there right away!"

I didn't dare open the door until Detective Donovan knocked and personally identified himself.

He said the hallway was empty when he arrived. After surveying the scene, he would take me to review the surveillance footage.

Still shaken, I followed him downstairs.

It was the third floor.

When we arrived, the police had already cordoned off the area.

They wouldn't let me get close. I only managed to catch a glimpse through the crack of the door.

Mr. Finch was sprawled on the floor, his eyes glued shut with what looked like superglue.