She Came at Midnight, I Became a Murderer

There was no reaction at all.

That only made me angrier.

I kicked at her, but instead of a body, my foot hit something sticky.

Lifting the blanket, I froze in horror at what I saw.

Emma Brooks was drenched in blood.

The bedsheet beneath her was soaked through, dyed a deep crimson.

And in her chest—was a kitchen knife.

For a moment, I was paralyzed, every hair on my body standing on end.

I scrambled off the bed in panic.

“Emma?”

I called out, testing if she might respond.

But she didn’t move.

My mind spun.

I could understand Emma sneaking into my bed at night to fabricate evidence of an affair, so Sophia would misunderstand and our relationship would collapse.

But what I couldn’t understand was why she would climb into my bed and then kill herself.

What the hell was she trying to do?

Did she want the whole world to believe I was her killer?

Her words from a week ago flashed back into my mind.

She had said I would regret rejecting her.

Was this what she meant?

If so, then she was completely deranged.

Who kills themselves just to frame the man who rejected them?

She wanted to trade her young life for my lifetime imprisonment.

The more I thought about it, the colder I felt.

Her pale face seemed more grotesque and terrifying by the second.

A woman ruthless enough to kill even herself…

My scalp prickled, and I shivered.

After a long moment, I forced myself to calm down. I had to check if Emma was still breathing.

If she was alive, calling an ambulance might still save her.

But just as I leaned closer—

the bedroom door creaked open.

Sophia Carter, dressed in her pajamas, walked in yawning.

“Babe, why’s the light still on? It’s so late, and you’re not asleep?”

Her words made me spin around, startled.

Sophia rubbed her eyes, then glanced toward the bed.

The instant our eyes met, she saw Emma lying there.

Her expression shifted instantly—her face twisted in shock, her voice rising sharp and high-pitched:

“You… why is Emma in your bed? What were you two doing?”

Facing my girlfriend’s furious accusations, I quickly explained:

“It’s not what you think. Nothing happened. I woke up and found her lying next to me.”

“Ethan Miller, I never thought you’d be with Emma…”

Tears welled up in Sophia’s eyes, streaming down her cheeks.

“There’s nothing between us. And besides—”

I tried to steady my voice, then pointed at Emma’s lifeless body.

“She’s already dead. What could I possibly do with a dead woman?”

“What? Emma… dead?”

Sophia stepped forward, horrified.

When she saw the knife buried in Emma’s chest, her eyes widened in terror.

“Ah!”

She screamed, stumbling back in fear.

Then, suddenly, she let out another piercing shriek and bolted for the door.

I lunged forward, grabbing her arm.

“Let me go! Don’t touch me, you murderer!”

Her face had gone ghostly pale, her shrill voice echoing through the entire apartment building.

She struggled violently, trying to shove me away.

But I held her tight.

Then she sank her teeth into my shoulder.

I didn’t resist. I let her bite.

When her teeth pierced my skin, a burst of pain shot through me like fire.

Grinding through the agony, I forced out the words:

“Emma wasn’t killed by me.”