I Can Hear a Serial Killer's Voice in My Head

As I walk into the police station the next morning, I can't help but feel a sense of unease. The events of last night still weigh heavily on my mind, and the knowledge that I now have a serial killer's voice in my head is enough to make me question my own sanity.

But to my surprise, Bundy has been uncharacteristically quiet. I had expected him to be a constant presence, chattering away in my mind and distracting me from my work. Instead, he seems content to remain silent, allowing me to focus on the tasks at hand.

I settle into my desk, trying to push the thoughts of Bundy aside. I have a job to do, and I can't let this strange new development interfere with my duties. As I begin to sort through the stack of case files on my desk, I find myself grateful for the silence in my mind.

But even as I work, I can't shake the feeling that this is just the calm before the storm. I still have no idea how or why this is happening to me, and the uncertainty is enough to set my nerves on edge.

I take a deep breath, trying to center myself. I have to trust that there's a reason for all of this, that Bundy's presence in my mind is not just some cruel twist of fate. But as the day wears on, I find myself growing more and more uneasy.

As I sit at my desk, going through the motions of another quiet day, the shrill ring of the phone jolts me out of my reverie. I pick up the receiver, expecting another routine call from a concerned citizen or a minor incident report.

"Nowon Police Station, Officer Park speaking," I say, my voice crisp and professional.

"This is Senior Officer Kim from the Seoul Jongno Police Station," the voice on the other end of the line replies. "I need to speak with your senior officer immediately."

I feel a flutter of excitement in my chest. Jongno is the heart of Seoul, a bustling district where the big cases happen. If they're calling us, it must be something important.

"I'm sorry, sir, but my senior is out on duty at the moment," I explain, trying to keep my voice steady. "Is there something I can assist you with?"

There's a brief pause on the other end of the line, and then Officer Kim sighs. "Very well. I suppose you'll have to do."

He begins to explain the situation, and as he speaks, I feel a chill run down my spine. "We've been tracking a serial killer case for the past year and a half," he says, his voice grim. "Three women have been murdered in the central Seoul area, and we've been working around the clock to find the perpetrator."

I nod, even though he can't see me. I'm well aware of the case he's referring to. It's been all over the news, a series of brutal murders that have left the city on edge.

"I'm afraid we've just discovered a fourth victim," Officer Kim continues, his voice heavy with fatigue. "And according to her identification, her residence is in Nowon, your district."

I sit up straighter in my chair, my heart pounding in my chest. A serial killer, operating in our quiet little corner of the city? It seems almost impossible.

"We're sending a team of officers to the victim's apartment now," Officer Kim says. "But we need your support as well. Can you head over there and secure the scene until our team arrives?"

I don't hesitate. "Of course, sir. I'll leave immediately."

As I hang up the phone, I feel a rush of adrenaline coursing through my veins. This is the kind of case that every cop dreams of, a chance to make a real difference in the world.

I grab my jacket and head for the door, my mind already racing with the possibilities. As I climb into my patrol car and turn on the sirens, I can feel Bundy's presence lurking in the back of my mind. But I push him aside, focusing on the task at hand.

I have a job to do, and I won't let anything stand in my way. Not even the voice of a notorious serial killer.

As I arrive at the scene, I quickly exit my patrol car and begin securing the perimeter. I unroll the bright yellow police tape, cordoning off the area around the victim's apartment building. It's a grim task, but one that's necessary to preserve any potential evidence.

Not long after I've finished, I hear the sound of sirens approaching. My senior officer pulls up, followed closely by several cars from the Jongno district. I watch as the officers emerge, their faces grim and determined.

As they approach, I overhear my senior talking with one of the Jongno officers. "This case has been a nightmare," the Jongno officer says, his voice tight with frustration. "We haven't had a single solid lead or clue about the culprit so far."

I nod to myself, recalling the articles I've read in the newspapers. The serial killer has been meticulous, leaving no traces or evidence behind at any of the crime scenes. It's as if they're a ghost, appearing and disappearing without a trace.

But there has been a pattern to the murders, one that's chilling in its consistency. The killer seems to target women in their 20s or 30s, all of whom live alone. And the murders always take place in the early hours of the morning, between 1 am and 3 am.

Perhaps most disturbing of all is the killer's signature: they collect the victims' fingernails, as if they're some kind of twisted trophy.

As we make our way into the building, I overhear the officers ahead of me discussing the first murder in the series. It's a case that's been burned into the minds of everyone in law enforcement, the brutal slaying that kicked off this nightmare.

"I've been on the force for 20 years," one of the officers says, his voice low and somber. "I've seen my fair share of killers. But this one? They're different."

Another officer nods in agreement. "Most first-time killers make mistakes. They leave evidence behind, or they panic and do something stupid. But not this one. It's like they knew exactly what they were doing from the start."

As I listen to their conversation, a sudden thought pops into my mind, unbidden. What if the first case wasn't really the first? What if the killer had struck before, honing their skills and perfecting their technique?

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