Once upon a time, a tragic case occurred in a small town. The detective Gray had lost his wife by the hands of a serial killer, a night he could never forget. He used to be a kind man, with a smile that never seemed to leave his lips, but things had changed since then.
A year had passed, and he was still grieving the loss. His way of coping was taking cases, more than he should, to keep his mind occupied. An interesting case caught his attention, another murder. He decided to investigate, getting a weird feeling about it. The victims were found with an immense blood loss, despite having little to no injuries.
Detective Gray followed the trails, the evidence, everything. Until he found it – the killer. In a dark, abandoned manor, there was a trail of blood that led to the kitchen, a dim light coming from there, maybe a candle. He followed, and he saw it – or rather, her. His wife, who used to have beautiful olive skin, now as pale as a ghost, or better said, a vampire. She held a blood-filled glass, and they locked eyes.
He questioned his own sanity. Had he gone insane? Was he dreaming? Eventually, he fell to his knees, eyes filled with tears. She was right there, his lover, his everything. Had she been the author of all those crimes? He couldn’t care less. She walked up to him, and she spoke to him, in that soft voice he remembered. They talked for a bit, then she asked the question. He didn’t hesitate, and nodded with glassy eyes, as if he was looking up at an angel. She leaned in, sharp fangs brushing against his neck.
The next morning, he didn’t return to work.
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