Subject: Elena Marie Fray
Age: 42
Occupation: Pediatric Therapist, private practice
Status: Acquitted – Evidence Compromised (Case #F-731)
File Found: Hidden police server backup – Whetstone archive
Date of Incident: February 14th, 20XX
Accusation: Sexual misconduct with minors under sedation
Reason for Release: Lab technician failed to handle evidence chain. Key testimony withdrawn after "reconciliation deal." All charges dropped.
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Time: 02:03 A.M.
Date: November 22nd, 20XX
Location: Eden Pines Neighborhood, Westhill, Oregon
The gate clicked open with a whisper.
Derik stood still, breathing through his mouth to avoid the scent of decay leaking from her trash bins. Elena Fray lived alone in a glass-and-concrete two-story house with a front lawn that looked like it was trying too hard to be suburban. But nothing about her was clean. The court files said she was "reformed."
Derik had read the sealed interviews from child witnesses—fragments of sentences, terror buried in broken grammar.
"She said it was part of therapy…"
"She gave me red pills. They made me sleepy."
"She locked the door. Mom never knew."
He remembered every line.
He memorized the hallways from real estate floor plans.
Watched her for two weeks. Mapped her routines. Her habits. Her blinds.
She always left the back bathroom window cracked open when she burned incense.
Entry Point.
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02:06 A.M.
He climbed in without a sound, slipping past silk robes and folded towels. The house smelled like lavender, but Derik could still sense rot beneath it—like sugar sprayed over mold.
He wore gloves.
No shoes.
All black.
Inside his bag: surgical tools, chloroform, and something far worse—truth.
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02:11 A.M.
She was asleep. Derik waited.
Not out of respect. But timing.
She stirred, and he let her see him—just enough.
"Who—?"
Before she could scream, the chloroform was over her mouth.
Three seconds. Four. Five.
And then, she was limp.
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02:16 A.M.
He tied her to the metal leg posts of her therapy table downstairs—the same one she used on children. He made sure of it.
She woke in shudders, gagged and wide-eyed.
"Do you know how many seconds it takes for a sedated child to panic when they wake up in pain?" Derik's voice was calm, emotionless. "I do. You taught me."
She mumbled through the gag, panicked.
"I read your transcripts. Your mistakes weren't hidden. They were just bought."
She thrashed. He didn't flinch.
He opened her own therapy drawer—retrieved the exact red pills she used on her victims. He didn't drug her. He wanted her aware.
Pain should mean something.
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02:23 A.M.
He cut her clothes slowly—not violently. Methodically. Like an autopsy. Like study. She tried to fight. The restraints didn't allow it.
"Do you remember Carter Briggs?"
She froze.
Of course she did.
"Eight years old. Special needs. You told the judge he was 'fantasizing.'"
He showed her the newspaper clipping.
He'd brought it just for her. Folded. Bloodied.
"He jumped off a bridge six months after the trial. But don't worry. I remember him for you."
She screamed through the gag. He let her.
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02:37 A.M.
He sliced along her thigh—not deep, just enough to bleed. Enough for pain.
She was going into shock. He checked her pulse. Adjusted the IV he'd set.
He needed her alive.
He placed an iPad in front of her with recorded testimony playing—child after child. Faces pixelated. Voices shaking. Names hidden.
But she knew who they were.
And Derik watched her break.
"What you feel right now… this is justice."
"Not because you die… but because you finally know you deserve to."
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02:52 A.M.
He finished it quickly.
A single puncture, carotid artery. A measured blade angle—just like he'd practiced on pigs in backwoods farms. Fast blood loss. Limited spray.
He closed her eyes.
Not out of mercy. But order.
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03:07 A.M.
He removed all tools, cleaned the surfaces.
He wiped door handles, sprayed solvent on the rope ends.
He left the house untouched—except the therapy table.
One photo remained. A single Polaroid taped to the mirror:
A child's drawing. Red crayon. A crying face.
It wasn't his.
It was Carter's.
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Police Report (Filed Two Days Later)
Status: Suicide.
Cause: Self-inflicted carotid laceration.
Evidence: Opened court files scattered across floor. Recorded child testimonies on replay. No sign of forced entry. No fingerprints.
Case Conclusion: Closed.
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Derik's Journal, Entry #1
Elena Fray – Confirmed
Body found. Story framed. Legacy shattered.
Tied to original weapon of crime. Died in same room she ruined others.
No inconsistencies detected.
Case marked as suicide by trauma-induced guilt.
Let the world think she found a conscience.
I just gave her one.
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Next on the list: #2 – Simon Vance
Special Prosecutor. Buried Elena's evidence. Threatened three families into silence. Wiped Carter's psychological records.
You bought her freedom.
Now I'm buying yours… in blood.