Reborn In a Murderer’s Embrace

I sucked in a breath, chilled to the bone. What task had he assigned to Foebe?

Was it about Colin?

Did Colin mistake Foebe for Phoebe? Which meant he saw Foebe as me?

Colin… the Phoebe he called out for, wasn’t Foebe with an F, but actually Phoebe?

“I know…” Clutching my phone, I eyed the man anxiously, itching to step outside and call the

cops.

This guy… he had to be the murderer.

“You’re free to go,” he said, gesturing dismissively.

I nodded and bolted.

“Don’t harbor any false hopes. He only sees you as Phoebe; don’t expect him to actually care about you.” As I reached the door, he called out a warning.

I didn’t look back, just ran, legs trembling.

I wanted to call the police, but I hesitated. What could I possibly report?

That he’s a murderer? Where’s the proof?

Would I be tipping him off if I couldn’t produce any evidence?

Why was he staying at my place anyway?

Was this some kind of provocation?

+ Text property © Nôvel(D)ra/ma.Org.

Barely out of the building, I ran smack into someone’s arms.

It was Colin.

He wrapped his arms around me, his voice hoarse. “Why do you always run off like that.”

He was worried about me.

“You…” I clung to Colin, desperately seeking a sliver of safety.

–

The voice of the man upstairs was so similar to Colin’s as if something had ravaged their throats, making them both sound rough and deep.

“How do you always find me?” I looked up at Colin, my voice laced with nerves.

Colin stayed silent.

“Did you put a tracker on me?” I pressed on.

“Just… worried about you getting into trouble.” Colin averted his gaze.

16:16

I glanced back nervously, fearing the murderer from upstairs might emerge.

Pulling Colin by the hand, I led him quickly away.

“Where’s the tracker?” I asked Colin.

Again, he didn’t answer.

“Are you going to tell me?” I frowned, getting a bit angry.

Colin took my wrist, caressing the bracelet there. Then, he touched the pendant around my neck.

Great, so all the jewelry I wear daily have tracking devices in them?

But that wasn’t all. His hand finally rested on my phone.

I was so infuriated I trembled, realizing I was tagged from head to toe.

Colin looked hurt, gripping my hand. “Phoebe…”

“Let’s go home,” I urged, a chill creeping down my spine as I hastened back with Colin in tow.

We couldn’t let the murderer set his sights on us.

The murderer upstairs couldn’t possibly know I was actually Phoebe, right? He wouldn’t imagine in his wildest dreams that I had come back from the dead, would he?

But what had he tasked Foebe with? Now that I was posing as Foebe, wouldn’t my own investigations eventually point back at me? Was Foebe the real accomplice?

“Phoebe, are you troubled?” Colin held my hand all the way home, finally breaking the silence.

I didn’t answer. I was busy figuring out what to do next.

We reached home in silence, Colin sticking by me, ever so quiet.

“Colin…” I ventured cautiously. “Stella told me you went to the police station and confessed to being the murderer. Why?”

Colin glanced at me, then looked down.

“If you don’t want to talk about it… never mind.” I didn’t want to arouse Colin’s suspicions.

I was still unsure whether Colin was in cahoots with the murderer living in my house.

“That guy said if I admitted to being the murderer, he’d give you back to me,” Colin’s voice was hoarse, his head down, his hair hiding his eyes so I couldn’t read his emotions.

But I could feel him trembling.

“Who is ‘he‘…” I asked nervously. “Give me back to you? Foebe with an F or Phoebe?”

Colin looked up, his gaze intense on me.

16:16

The murderer had said that Colin mistook Foebe for Phoebe, using Foebe as a stand–in.

So the person Colin truly wanted to save was Phoebe? The Phoebe he called out for every day. was it actually me?