Then, suddenly, she let out another piercing shriek and bolted for the door.
I lunged forward, grabbing her arm.
“Let me go! Don’t touch me, you murderer!”
Her face had gone ghostly pale, her shrill voice echoing through the entire apartment building.
She struggled violently, trying to shove me away.
But I held her tight.
Then she sank her teeth into my shoulder.
I didn’t resist. I let her bite.
When her teeth pierced my skin, a burst of pain shot through me like fire.
Grinding through the agony, I forced out the words:
“Emma wasn’t killed by me.”
Hearing my words, Sophia Carter wasn’t as hysterical as before.
She released her bite, her lips still stained with my blood.
Tears streamed down her face as she asked,
“She’s lying in your bed with a knife in her chest. There are only three of us in this apartment. If Emma Brooks wasn’t killed by you, then who did it?”
“I woke up and she was already dead. I don’t know who killed her, but… I suspect she killed herself.”
I then told Sophia about how Emma had confessed to me a week earlier.
Sophia shook her head violently.