Memoir Of A Murderer Review นิยาย & เรื่องราว

Her harden stare doesn't falter. "I've spent years researching and training on improving my skills and knowledge and constantly fighting for my life, freedom and career. While you were beating up delinquents and fooling around, I had to fight to secure my position. Also, what I fed to revive you back in Akihabara was my blood. As long as you consume it even if it is a drop, I hold your life in my hands. I gave you your life back and I can take it away just as easy. If you die here then it's up to you. You were not the first person I've killed. Unlike you, I will always remember what I have done. I almost died I survived and lived my life as much as I possible could. As for you, you might've

"You just threatened to kill me." "And I will again." He reached into his jacket and pulled out another knife, this one longer and more wicked looking than the dagger I'd melted. The blade caught the light streaming through the windows, sharp enough to cut shadows. "The question is whether you're going to melt this one too, or if that little trick was a one-time thing." My heart hammered against my ribs. "I don't know how that happened." "Then we'll find out together." He stood up slowly, the knife held loosely in his grip. Not threatening yet, but ready. "Because either you're telling the truth about being some kind of resurrection victim, or you're the most dangerous enemy I've ever let in

"How could you even think that about me? Yeah, I survived, but I was a victim, too. And now, just because of one photo, you're calling me a killer? Do you have any idea how much that hurts?" I swallowed hard, my voice breaking. "I said I probably fell asleep around 10 PM. I never said I was sure. My head was spinning from the altitude, and I wasn't clear. And come on—I'm just one woman. How the heck could I take out five grown men?" Alex's stare locked onto my face. "Yeah… doesn't seem likely." Just then, the coroner walked in with a fresh report, the pages still smelling like ink. He handed it straight to Alex.

I’d been leaning into his hold when I remembered exactly what he’d done—the very reason I couldn’t be with him, and I pulled away. “Why do you have that book? Why do you record every name of people you’ve killed? Does it make you feel untouchable? Does it serve as some sick kind of medal to you? Is that why you keep it?” “No. There’s no joy in killing, Tessa. I write it down for remembrance—I’d taken their life; it was the least I could do, and perhaps to torture myself with the knowledge of what I am.” I hadn’t thought of it that way, and for some reason, his explanation filled me with a surge of sympathy. Once again, I’d judged him wrongly. I should have known better.

"Mr Powell I told you to stay in there until our backup arrive, what are you doing out here?" "I want to know if this lunatic was the one that murdered my daughter!" Powell replied sternly and squats in front of Dark Blood. He scrolled through his pictures and clicked on her daughter photo and showed him the phone screen, "Take a close look at her, she's in the grave now because a heartless beast like you must have murdered her. Was it really you who did it?" Dark Blood slowly glances up at the phone in front of him and he smirks. "She doesn't look like my taste, if she was my taste I bet I would have been the one to murder her cold-bloodedly.

A strange sensation surged within her, as if she was familiar with the situation trapping her right now. Amora's memory returned to the dangerous situation seven years ago that had trapped her. Faint images and the voice of a man who had once robbed her of her innocence flashed in her mind. Reflexively, Amora stared intently at his face, her mouth agape in shock. ‘Don't tell me he's ... the murderer?’ Amora whispered to herself. Amora's widened eyes showed her suspicion. Her face turned pale as a sheet. Even though the man's image wasn’t clear, Amora felt a similarity between the murderer and the man standing before her now.

The fire crackled, but he felt cold. He pulled up his old "Feral Minds" blog, the one Zhedya said was his passion…his past life. He filtered the archive. Searched for the date. November 23rd. And there it was. Buried deep, one of his first big breaks. The headline made his blood slow down: "The Mirrorist Butchered: Convicted Killer Found at Scene" His own words stared back at him. The article detailed the gruesome, almost poetic murder of a known serial killer called The Mirrorist.

Dima He tries to compose himself after the first murder. Malik stops the car in front of a grocery store, opens the door, and gets out—his face betraying his anxiety. Malik says to the shopkeeper, "I want a bottle of water." The shopkeeper looks at Malik in surprise: "It's behind you, in the fridge, sir." Malik glances to the side and sees the fridge. He opens it and takes out a bottle of water, then turns to the shopkeeper, takes out his money, and gives it to him. The shopkeeper gives Malik his change. Malik takes the money and puts it in his pocket, then heads back to the car. Inside, Malik places the bottle of water beside him and starts driving until he reaches a quiet spot on the Nile,

All I could think of was the memory of the white cloth being pulled over Marie's lifeless body. I never thought Gigi would be the culprit who killed Marie. I couldn't stop myself from lunging at Gigi and choking her. "Annette! Have you lost your mind?" Zachary roared. He grabbed my arm and threw me aside, making me fall onto the ground.

I wonder if my Mom can still accept me if she already knows what I have done and what I am going to do. If she will still call me her daughter knowing I am a killer, a murderer. I wonder if she can understand my reason for this. Because right now, I can not understand myself. I think I don’t know myself anymore. •••