Reborn In a Murderer’s Embrace

I trailed behind Dexter as we entered the Homicide Division.

“Mr. Fitzgerald, just to confirm with you,” the cops took Dexter to identify some items found at the crime scene clothes, a cell phone, a bag – all mine.

Dexter looked pretty shaken up. It took him a hot minute to speak up. “Where is she?”

“Sorry, Mr. Fitzgerald, from our initial investigation, it’s highly likely she’s been offed. But we haven’t found the body yet.”

“Forget it then, don’t waste your manpower on her; she’s not in trouble.” Dexter snorted with a sneer. “She’s just ditching her stuff on purpose to create suspense. She did these to make me feel guilty and back down.”

Dexter didn’t buy for a second that I was dead. In his eyes, I was just a villain who wouldn’t stop at anything to get what I wanted, and he wished I was really six feet under.

“Are you sure about that, Mr. Fitzgerald?” The cop gave him a puzzled look.

“Positive.” Dexter nodded and looked dead serious, “Sorry for the hassle, I’ll sort it out. Give me three days and I’ll find her.”

There was a storm brewing in Dexter’s eyes: He was clearly ticked off.

I knew him too well; he was pissed that I’d taken the drama too far this time. I suddenly felt like laughing, but the laughter died right beside Dexter.

I was dead, and he was stalling the police investigation.

The same thing happened the day I was killed. I made my last call to him on the day I died, but he just snapped back after picking it up, “Phoebe, will you ever give it a rest? Why don’t you just drop dead?” Exclusive © material by Nô(/v)elDrama.Org.

I tossed my phone away in despair, got knocked out and taken away by the killer, then dead.

“Stella, where’s Phoebe? Tell her to stop hiding and come back.” Dexter called Stella with rage boiling as soon as he left the police station.

Stella was my only friend, and I didn’t even get a chance to say her goodbye.

“What the hell, Dexter? I should be asking you about Phoebe’s whereabouts. What have you done with her?” Stella retorted.

“Tell her this is her last chance. She better come home tomorrow, or I won’t bother collecting. her remains even if she dies out there!” Dexter was frantic.

I couldn’t fathom what he was so worked up about; even his breathing was all heavy.

I stood there numb with a mocking smile on my lips, “Don’t worry about collecting my body, because you won’t be able to find it.”

“Phoebe’s gone missing and I’ve called the cops, you scumbag. If anything happens to her, I won’t let you off the hook!” Stella screamed through tears on the phone.

Dexter’s heart clenched, his laugh dripping with sarcasm, “Is this her new trick? Using this to force me into marrying her? Pathetic.”

My vision blurred as I watched Dexter.

That moment, I truly lost all hope.

A week before my death, there was a heavy downpour, lightning flashing, thunder crashing.

Dexter pinned me down on the bed, his eyes cold and threatening. “Phoebe, you keep throwing yourself at me just want me to touch you like this, right? Why are you acting like a bitch? Why are you so desperate for a man?”

“I didn’t…we had an engagement and you’re the one not honoring it, Dexter”

He didn’t give a damn about my explanations. He grabbed my chin and kissed my lips. His kiss was void of love and fraught with his cathartic desire, “Isn’t this what you wanted? Stop pretending.”

“Dexter, please, my stomach… it hurts so much…” I cried and begged, but he wouldn’t stop.

He gripped my waist, thrusting hard and fierce like a madman.

“Phoebe, you pushed Melody down the stairs and nearly killed her. I haven’t settled that score with you yet. I didn’t throw you in jail and that was mercy enough. In that case, just stop with your tricks! You think that’ll make me marry you? You’d better get that idea out of your head!”

By the end, I was voiceless and couldn’t utter a word. It wasn’t me. I didn’t push her.

Crimson blood flowed between my legs and my stomach was in excruciating pain. The pain was suffocating.

“Dexter… it hurts. Please, take me to the hospital.” I begged.

Something wasn’t right. I could feel it.

“Bad luck.” Dexter tossed me aside with disgust, getting dressed to take me to the hospital.

But just then, his phone rang. “Dexter! Dexter! Save me! I think that psycho killer is after me, help me!”

Dexter’s face went pale. Panic–stricken, he grabbed his clothes and dashed out. He was too worried about Melody so he didn’t care if I lived or died.

The pain made me fall off the bed and curl up, “Help… Dexter. Don’t leave me… please…”