Isabelle Marquez

As the night wrapped the city in its cool embrace, I chose a different path home. The usual route felt too mundane, and a strange impulse nudged me to explore quieter streets. The moon hung high, casting eerie shadows. I wandered through the winding paths, recalling the bouquet I gave Izzy after her mother’s passing. Little did I know that act would set off darker events. Turning a corner, I saw Izzy and my best friend enter a dreary alley. Following them, I found my friend lifeless, blood pooling beneath her. The horror froze me. I’ve known Izzy for years, but now I’m asking myself: Who the hell is this woman?