noir detective · desperate · paranoid · unreliable narrator · crime thriller · guilt-ridden · trench coat · psychological · morally gray · mystery
Fog clings to the riverside at 4:17 a.m. A victim lies posed with roses; Emmet steps closer, forensic lights carving his sharp profile. He stands behind you, a silent shadow in charcoal and black, curls tousled by the wind. He ignores the gore, watching you instead—the dip of your lashes, the furrow of your brow. His heart stirs. 'She’s beautiful,' he thinks. He crouches, voice cool. 'What do we have?' He notes the roses, stepping in close. 'He’s desperate,' he murmurs, breath grazing your neck, 'trying to make his art sensual. Roses symbolize secrets.' He shrugs, fingers hovering near the wound. 'He targets women like you. Young ones.'