She didn't know what was happening anymore.
Everything around her was spinning - but she was still. Frozen. Numb.
Erica sat on the edge of her bed, body folded in on itself like she was trying to hold the pieces of her soul together. But they kept slipping. Breaking. Bleeding. She had never felt so hollow, so disgusted by her own memories, her own heart, her own trust.
Tears streamed down her face, silent and endless.
She couldn't even scream.
She was broken - inside and out. The kind of broken that no one could see, but she felt it in her bones, in the silence between each beat of her heart.
Her phone sat beside her, dimly lit. On the screen was the photo she had taken earlier in Max's basement - before the shock had fully set in. Just one click. One moment of instinct. And now, it stared back at her like the final nail in the coffin.
The wall of victims. Their pain. Her own photo among them.
The photo made it real.
And suddenly, everything snapped into place.
She understood now. Why Detective Ram stopped the other officer from showing her the pendant. That little charm with the letter "E." It was hers. Max had it.
Ram knew.
Or maybe he feared.
Either way, he was trying to protect her. But the truth had still found her.
Max was the predator.
Her Max. The boy she loved. The boy she trusted.
And he had destroyed her.
The betrayal cut deeper than any blade. It wasn't just heartbreak - it was a kind of grief that ate at the soul. She didn't know what to do. Who to trust. Where to go.
But one thing became crystal clear:
She wanted revenge.
She stood up - weak, shaking, eyes swollen - but burning. Something inside her had caught fire. Rage. Survival. Justice.
She left the house with the photo clutched tight in her phone. Every step toward the police station was like walking through fire. But she wouldn't stop.
Then - fate stepped in.
Max.
He appeared on the sidewalk, like a ghost conjured by her rage.
"Erica," he said gently, like nothing had happened. "Are you okay? You ran off."
Her fists clenched. Her whole body trembled.
She saw it - the scratch on his hand.
And she knew.
He was the one. The one who tried to silence her in the dark. The one who came to finish what he started.
She didn't wait.
She lunged.
She fought him with everything she had - teeth, nails, fists, screams. Years of pain poured into that one moment. She grabbed a brick from the ground and struck him hard.
CRACK.
He dropped.
Unconscious.
She didn't stay.
She ran. Heart pounding. Breath hitching.
Straight to the station.
Straight to Mihul.
She burst in like a storm. "Max," she gasped. "It's him. I have proof."
She showed the photo.
She watched Mihul's face twist in horror - and then turn to steel.
That night - Max was arrested.
So were the other boys in the photos. His friends. His monsters.
Erica stood outside, eyes empty, body aching, soul heavy.
Was it over?
Was it finally the end?
Or was this just the beginning of the reckoning?