Although he couldn’t forget the sex, William still drowned himself with writing since he was extremely motivated and inspired. His body hurt all over but his mind had never been so clearer. No matter how many times he looked at it, the last two victims really didn’t fit the serial killer’s taste. And the time-gap was too large. What happened in the middle? William couldn’t help but feel it deep in his guts that the last two murders seemed to be done by someone else. But who could it be? Who had motives? But wait. Some killers don’t need motives at all. Damn it. Will the serial killer ever be caught? He really wanted to hear what the guy had to say.

The truth is, he doesn’t really care about who the copycat killer is. He is more curious as to what the victims experienced while they were kidnapped. Because that was what his own novel was about. It’s just that in his novel, he wanted the victims to survive in the end. <It has been seven months since they were first kidnapped. There was no calendar in the basement but Angel had been counting the days. He was a professor at a university near his home. By now, a new semester had begun. Some of his students might have even graduated. He missed so much within only seven months being in captivity. He turned to look at the younger boy beside him. When they were first brought here, this guy had been crying and panicking nonstop. But now he has become very quiet and obedient. Angel could tell that this boy was a young master of some wealthy family by what he was wearing and his demeanour alone. But all that no longer shows now. He is now humble and relies a lot on Angel. Their relationship had grown. Angel could feel the changes but he couldn't feel uncomfortable about it. Because they need each other and down here, morality doesn't exist.>

As he wrote, William couldn't help but picture himself as Angel and the boy he met at the bar the other night as Len, the young master from his novel. He didn't know why the image in his head came out like that but so far, it really helped him to write better. The plot came smoother in his mind.

<"Angel, are you thirsty?" Len asked him as he went to pick up a plastic bottle filled with water left by the old man for them to drink. Without waiting for Angel's answer, Len gulped a few mouthfuls of water by himself. When he drank enough, he turned to look at Angel and smiled. He handed the water bottle towards him. "Thanks," Angel thanked him as he took the bottle from Len's hand. Their fingers slightly touched and Len caressed Angel's fingers ambiguously in that few seconds of interaction. Angel knew that it was intentional. Despite their situation, he knew that Len's feelings had changed. And he couldn't do anything to stop it from happening. "Angel, I promise that I will protect you no matter what," Len said as he looked at the man older than him by a decade with eyes that could pierce deep into a soul. Angel, however, couldn't appreciate it. He is afterall a marr->

William's creativity was interrupted by a phone call out of the blue. William glanced at the caller ID and saw that it was his editor, Miss Gretchen, calling. He quickly picked up the phone. "What's up?" he greeted. The person on the other line didn't answer his greeting. Instead, she immediately started to talk excitedly.

"Will, guess what? I got a tip about the twin brother. He would be around at a resort. I heard that he is currently there so I reserve a room for you there as well. I believe you also need time to relax and write, right? So why don't you go there and kill two birds with one stone? You get to write and also investigate at the same time. Isn't that wonderful?" Miss Gretchen had a habit of talking really fast in one breath. William was already used to it by now. All he needed was to wait for the right moment to interrupt her.

“Where did you get this tip again? Is it reliable?” William asked sceptically.

“Hey! All of my informants are reliable! I’ve checked and it’s really true. He’s there. You can try to go there and see if you can interview him. I’m really looking forward to your next novel. How’s the draft going? Everything good? You’re still in a writer’s block mode? Need any help?”

William sighed loudly to display his annoyance. “You’re not answering my question, Miss Gretchen.”

“Oh! What was it again?”

“Where did you get this tip?” William repeated himself patiently. He should have asked one question at a time towards this woman.

“Oh! Hahahaha! It’s a secret!!! Now, answer my question. How’s it going?”

Another sigh escaped William’s mouth. Miss Gretchen was already used to this that she no longer found it offensive. In fact, she didn’t even care if William was annoyed. As long as William continued to write good stories for her, dealing with his temper is nothing. “I’m writing. I will be done with the first three chapters soon and I’ll show you the draft, okay?” William promised.

This information excited Miss Gretchen that William could almost imagine her jumping with joy. “Yay! This is good news. I’m looking forward to it! Oh, by the way, Will, there’s another letter,” she suddenly reminded him.

William turned quiet for a while once he heard this. Miss Gretchen also remained quiet, waiting for his response. “I’ll pick it up at the office soon,” William simply said.

Miss Gretchen knew that William would not be in a good mood once the ‘letter’ was mentioned. But she has to tell him anyway since it was one of her responsibilities. William set the publishing company’s address as his contact address for that particular person to contact him from prison. Although Miss Gretchen was aware of his past, she never pry too much into it. She just felt sorry for William to be connected to such a person. “Hmm. Did you even read all of his letters?”

William laughed aloud at this question. It was unsure of whether he was laughing at the ridiculousness of someone even asking that question or if he was laughing at himself for being ridiculous. “Send me the reservation info, yeah? Bye, Miss Gretchen,” William said, intending to end the call.

“Wait! Wil-!” Miss Gretchen’s words were cut off as William hung up the phone. He then ruffled his hair irritatedly as he turned off his phone completely, refusing to be bothered.

A thought crossed his mind. So he pulled his drawer open and looked at the letters messily thrown in it. There should be about three dozen unopened letters in it. He felt disgusted simply by looking at them. “Why should I read them? Fucking son of a bitch,” he cursed to himself. That man was a monster. And William is the monster’s child.

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Next update: 2023.08.18

*Author’s Note: Sorry, William. The serial killer is dead. Lol. I’m back. I was in a tough spot before. My depression comes and goes… So, I’m very sorry about not writing for a while. Thanks for being patient with me. -K