Chapter 6: The Experiment

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I was wound tight with anxiety, every nerve on edge.

I’d watched Savannah’s routines for months—she never came home during work hours—but I still couldn’t shake the dread.

By the time I closed the door, my shirt was soaked with cold sweat.

The instant I entered, a sharp, chemical scent hit me—Clorox and Pine-Sol, but underneath it all was a faint metallic tang. Blood. My stomach lurched.

I combed through Savannah’s room, finally finding a strange metal box and a battered notebook by the door.

Holding my breath, I eased open the box.

Inside: anesthetic spray, syringes, prescription sleeping pills, a bottle of sulfuric acid, and a lineup of tiny glass vials, each marked with odd symbols, each filled with a different colored liquid—like something out of a true crime episode.

Next to the bottles was a key labeled “Daniel Dawson.”

I pulled out my own key and compared them—identical, right down to the scratches on the edge.

What is she planning? The thought sent a shiver down my spine. I turned to the notebook, desperate for answers.

Maybe there was something in there that would explain all of this.

I flipped it open—and felt a cold chill crawl up my spine.

Every page was filled with meticulous records of different methods of killing, each entry accompanied by grainy photos.

Dissection, dismemberment, cooking—nothing was left out.

Every single victim had the same name: Daniel Dawson.

I forced myself to keep going. The last entry was dated yesterday—the victim was the corpse I’d seen on the feed.

I counted. There were thirty-five entries in all.

That meant Savannah had killed me thirty-five times.

A wave of nausea hit me. My hands shook so hard I almost dropped the notebook, the bile rising in my throat.

06