Humpty Dumpty Killer Novels & Stories

"You're a lunatic, Victoria." I leaned against the window, watching the crowd pound on the glass. "But only lunatics are remembered, Agent." And this, all of this, was my masterpiece. The case exploded across the nation. Soon, the "Coma Killer" case was trending everywhere. [Former Art Prodigy Kills Ten: A Twisted Mind or a Deeper Conspiracy?] [Can a Person in a Coma Kill? Experts Weigh In on the Methods] The buzz on Twitter was hotter than the presidential election.

Lindsey weakly replied, "Dr. Jones said Mr. Lockman Senior needed potassium. Isn't this potassium?" I completely lost my temper. "He needed potassium, but that doesn't give you the right to give a high-concentration IV push! Do you think human life is a joke?" Despite all efforts, the resuscitation failed. Charles' son, Jeremy Lockman—a powerful real estate tycoon—sped to the hospital as soon as he learned what had happened. The news of his father's sudden death left him devastated. He grabbed Michael, who had arrived as quickly as he could.

The weight of her question hung in the air. "I plan to…" Daisy Hunter was interrupted by a vehement knock on her door. Allison shuddered backwards in trepidation. "How could that be by this time of the night?" Daisy asked as she walked over to the door. "Who's at the door…

Since I had distributed everyone's admission tickets myself, I knew exactly where their exam rooms were. As I ran, I planned how to shatter their storyline. Firstly, it was a sweet romance novel. The female lead, Rachel Sharp, was supposed to be a naive yet brilliant top student. The male lead, Timothy Handler, was the cold, domineering school tyrant. Their character settings defined the tone of the story, and were exactly what made readers ship them. The first step was to destroy their character settings. After settling my thoughts, I steadied myself. Then, without hesitation, I grabbed a fire extinguisher from the hallway cabinet and smashed it straight into the glass window of Timothy's e

Anthony was a father. It was the third time he was receiving the unappreciated news of the murder. The killer was torturing the victims before slitting their necks. Zain still couldn't find the weapon and the next clue. The only thing he found an identical clue was the chemicals. The serial killer was maybe some kind of worker at any company or maybe he was a... " Do we have any painters in our town?” Zain asked furrowing in confusion.

I point out. Her lips press together. I can see her mind racing, putting pieces together. Connecting dots she didn’t realize were even there. She swallows hard. “When did this… happen?” I hesitate. “A while ago.” Her hands clench into fists. “And you didn’t tell me?” I exhale, resting my elbows on the table. “Do you remember Buttercup?” Her brows furrow. “Mrs Saunders's dog?” I nod. “What about her?” I keep my voice even. “I was the one...the one that killed her.”

The new king wanted land and money, and Sir Duggar was willing to give it to him if his extra-curricular activities were overlooked. Sir Duggar was a sick fuck. He liked to play with his victims before he killed them. This mission was because of him. We were returning to our base when we passed through the small village of Prairie Valley. We had found the bodies of six children mutilated so horrifically, that we couldn’t tell if they were male or female. Several women, who we believe were their mothers, we lined up and chained to a wall across from them.

the mustachioed man asked, his eyes teasing me, and he stuck out his tongue as his eyes glanced at my breasts. "Some kind of blowjob?" another man said. I rolled my eyes lazily, taking back the glass I had served them. "Are you serious? I asked, sir, and there's no extra charge," I said firmly. They laughed contentedly, as if relieved to have teased me like this. I took a deep breath, hoping they would be kind enough to answer my question. "He's Horton, a notorious troublemaker in this village. He's been in jail ever since he killed his father. As soon as he got out, he killed his cousin too," the man with the mustache explained.

I stopped, then let out a short, cold laugh. "It didn't die peacefully. It barely made it a year. And it died choking. I still wonder what Zoey was trying to get. All that smoke in my house, those weird rituals. Suffocating a helpless little thing." I looked straight at him. "What exactly was she praying for?" His lips shook. He tried to talk, but nothing came out. "But you were thorough," I said calmly. "You let Zoey live in the house for six months. Scrubbed everything clean. Even replaced the wallpaper." I paused. "You just forgot one thing—the hamster. And you forgot who I am. I'm a doctor."

the proprietor sneered, and continued, " How did you manage to know this place? You guys must be good at haunting " Jeremy stepped forward with burning in his eyes. "You are a killer, Mr. Proprietor. Your reign ends here. We know your secrets!" The proprietor chuckled, a cold sound escaping his lips. "You think you can unravel the threads I've woven? You're just pawns in a game far beyond your understanding, little boy!" Douglas who was standing tall beside me retorted. " Look here, Killer. We have endured your manipulation for too long. The time for your secrets to be revealed is now"