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??The Deeper She Digs

Ember

It was raining again. Because of course it was.

The survivor said no names. No recordings. Just “listen.”

I spotted them, a figure hunched under a broken umbrella, face shadowed, twitching like they’re hearing things I couldn’t.

I walked up slowly. Careful. “You’re the one who sent for me?”

They nodded once. Eyes darting. “He said you’d come. He said… he said I could tell you… before he finds me again.”

My gut coiled. “Who?” I asked.

The man breathed shallowly. “He made them scream. Made them confess . Said he was doing God’s work… but the Devil came to watch.”

“Are you talking about The Scale Killer?” A name I came up with for my own investigation.

The man whimpered. “No. No . This is something else. He doesn’t kill for justice. He kills because he likes it. He…” He leaned closer, lips trembling. “He told me what he did to your mother.”

I froze. Ice in my veins. “What did you say?”

The man clutched his jacket, like the memory was stabbing through his ribs. “Said she fought. Screamed your name when he cut her open.”

The world spun.

“Where is he?” I choked out.

The man didn’t answer. Because a second later, his head snapped back. A pop .Then a splat . Blood hit my face like hot rain. His body hit the pavement.

Lifeless.

I screamed before I ran.

I didn’t remember how I made it back to my apartment. I didn’t remember climbing the stairs two at a time or locking the door behind me with shaking hands.

All I knew was I wasn’t alone anymore.

My laptop was on. I didn’t leave it on. A file was open on the screen. It was from my corrupted folder, surveillance footage I could never get to play.

Until now.

The grainy video showed a courthouse parking lot. A man walked into frame. Clean suit. Hands in pockets. Another man followed behind him, slower, limping, wearing gloves even though it was summer.

He looked up. Stared into the camera. And smiled.

I knew that face.

I’ve tried to forget that face.

It’s the same face from every nightmare I’d ever had. The man who killed my mother. The man who carved my cheek open like a signature. The man who was never supposed to walk free again.

I always wondered if I’d recognize him. The man who destroyed my life. The man who carved a memory into my face I couldn’t escape in the mirror.

Would I know his eyes? The cadence of his voice? Would my hands tremble, or would something colder take their place, rage, maybe, or vengeance?

Turned out, the body forgets what the mind won’t let go of. Scars healed over. Memories blurred at the edges.

But fear?

Fear never forgot.

It curled around my ribs like a vine, tightening every time I heard footsteps that sounded too familiar.

Every time I saw a stranger linger too long. Every time I caught my reflection and saw her blood on my skin, even when I knew it wasn’t really there.

I didn’t recognize his face the first time I saw it again. But my bones did. My spine locked up. My breath shallowed. My heart kicked like it remembered drowning.

Somewhere deep inside me, the part of me that had died that night woke up screaming.

And I knew.

I knew it was him.

My inbox pinged.

One new message. No subject. No sender.

I clicked it.

"I didn't finish what I started. But I never leave a job undone. See you soon, Ember ."

I slammed the laptop shut. My heartbeat was a siren in my skull.

This wasn’t just about the scales anymore. This was personal. It always was . And now he’s back.

Alive. Watching. Waiting. And wasn’t coming to hide.

He’s coming to finish what he started.