Jeffrey Dahmer Dead Photos の小説・ストーリー

Jeffrey murmured, "Okay. I'll go see her one last time." Juan narrowed his eyes, knowing Jeffrey didn't believe him. The stench of iron hung thick in Debra's room. Jeffrey pushed open the door to find her corpse sprawled on the bed—pale as wax, eyes frozen wide, half her face caked in dried blood. Jeffrey moved closer to prod her shoulder. The wound from the gunshot yesterday remained.

I held out the photographs in front of my face, reading the information that was written on them. I could feel my heart leap to my throat, and my blood run cold as the innocent lives that had been murdered stared back at me from their pictures. The first picture was of a black man with brown eyes and black, afro-textured hair, wearing a white vest. The picture was taken at the crime scene. There was a bullet mark in his chest, and his vest was soaked with blood. The blood had pooled around his body.

Sera's POV Aaron stands in front of his laptop, a wide smirk spreading across his face. He glances at me for a moment, his eyes shining with confidence, before his fingers move to the keyboard. The projector comes to life, casting a large image on the screen. It's the photo of me dragging that enormous bin bag, the one that looks like I'm disposing a human body. "As we all know, this is an image of Sera carrying away her victim's dead body after committing the act. This image was brought into the court a few weeks ago, right?" Aaron's voice cuts through the silence. He turns to face the crowd, then turns toward the judge.

CHAPTER 162 THE LAST PIECE ALEXANDER I sat behind my desk in my office and watched the photos go live. Mathieu had done his job well. The images weren't grainy or obscured like the initial photos he had sent. They were very clear and undeniable. The most viral one was the one where Delacroix had his dick buried deep into Victor's ass. I was almost ashamed on his behalf. If he wanted to love a man, he shouldn't use the man to raise the sorry ass of a business life.

Once more, she couldn’t help but link Jeffrey with him. She couldn’t hold back her agitation, and asked brokenly, “When did you get injured? How did you get injured? Where were you injured?” “None of your business,” Jefford said as he sat up straight. It felt as though they had swapped roles. Melanie sat up as well, her gaze fixed on his face as she pressed further, “Jeffrey Morgan died two and a half months ago in an explosion. Metal shards flew and pierced through his brain. Do you know how much you resemble him? Are you…him or not?”

He moved back to the chair, sat on it, and began pulling out the cufflinks on his shirt cuff “Are you that daft? Stupid? You should know I have eyes everywhere.” The pictures all over her were one with a man she could recognize. First, they were walking into a hotel, the next picture they were smooching, the next they were both stark naked, the next they were making out, and then the next they were laying in bed cuddling up. The photos kept getting worse until the next her that caught her eye left her gasping in shock. “Y–you killed him!” She exclaimed wide-eyed and hands trembling as she watched the man she had left that morning lying dead in a pool of his blood in the jacuzzi bathtub they

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."

Instead of leaving, he shoved Adrian out of his way and rushed into the study. My photos were spread out on the desk. All of the photos showed my face, which was completely covered in blood. I was even unrecognizable in some of the photos. I just glanced at the photos before looking away. I knew very well just how terrible I looked when I died. One of my eyes had popped out of its sockets. The left section of my forehead had completely caved in. The forensic doctor had a difficult time discerning my identity back then. To think that Adrian would have these gruesome photos spread out on his desk. I couldn't help but wonder if he wasn't afraid of having nightmares when he slept at night.

The photograph showed him slumped against a cold, concrete wall, his head hanging low. “No…” Evelyn whispered, her voice barely audible as she stared at the image in horror. Her hands began to tremble more violently as she flipped through the rest of the photographs. Each one was worse than the last—Richard in pain, Richard struggling to move, Richard tied up like an animal. The last picture showed him unconscious, blood pooling beneath him, his face almost unrecognizable.

I bit down into my teeth and he held the remote again. “How about you tell me?” And as soon as he pressed a button, another image came up. And this time, it was of Adam’s body how we found it that night on the roads. Skin shredded to pieces, eyes out of his sockets. His bones piercing through his skin. The room echoed a deep gasp and staring at that picture flooded back all the memories to me. I tore my eyes to the ground, pushing yet another hard lump down my throat. “You want to tell the people what happened, Denver?” Jaxon asked. “You want to tell them or you want me to…because there are pictures. Dozens of them, from that night and the night after” He scanned through the gory gallery bef