She is Alive

By Kathrine Janet N. Rajalingam

                                                 A Debut Novella

A dark adventure of a serial killer who no longer desires to kill. And a victim who refuses to die.

               ''When you look into the mirror, what do you see? I see a killer.''

 

Madhav Kalsi is a serial killer. His last kill turned out to be a disaster.

He ends up killing the girl he likes by mistake.That encounter makes him walk out of his ferocious life.

 

Forty years later, he lives a happy, non-violence life with his family. Madhav is content with the person he has become.

But all that gets threatened when he sees his last victim alive, which terrifies him.

 

Madhav's past is returning to haunt his present. Desperate to find out how she is alive.

Madhav searches for answers, bringing him to face his past demon and pushing him back to his former life.

Will he start killing again to keep his secret safe?

 

• Language: English
• Publisher: De Durians
• Release date: May 8, 2023
• ISBN: 9798223982067

Kathrine Janet N. Rajalingam

Kathrine Janet N. Rajalingam isn't a best-selling author. Born In Penang, a small beautiful island situated on the northwest coast of Peninsular Malaysia. She enjoys writing, loves photography, and is a sports enthusiast. Kathrine is fascinated by the human mind and the darker side of human nature. She influences and exploits human sanity and behavior in her stories, not in real life. Unlike her characters, she isn't a bloodthirsty psychopath. Kathrine holds an honors degree in psychology. She Is Alive is her debut novella.

Book preview

When you looked into the mirror, what did you see?

We all had various personalities, or at least I did. The one I offered to the world. The one I shared with my loved ones and the one I manifested to myself every time I stared into the mirror was the most truthful. It reflected the inner me with no deception. Every time I gazed into the mirror on the wall, I saw a killer. That reflection accurately captured who I was on the inside. Death fascinated me. It was more of a fixation. I wasn't talking about the philosophical aspect of death, not into such a profound topic. Not also intrigued about the ordinary, banal cause of death, like a heart attack, disease, or a horrifying car accident. No, no, no, no. There was no novelty in those deaths. I was talking about murder. To have the power to take someone's life. To decide who died and who lived. That kind of death was extraordinary—not for the victim, but for the murderer.

Everyone was capable of killing someone. You might even have thought about murder. The truth was we were all predators. But only the chosen ones dared to take the less traveled path. Grand and heroic. The rest lived ordinary lives, following the norms that their societies had bound them with. I wasn't trying to condemn your choice of life. Maybe a little. A tad. Fine, I was judging. The lack of hunger in you bothered me. Your weakness to heed the morale of the world troubled me. Disgraced. I didn't conform to social mores and norms. I lived my life as I saw fit. Lionhearted.

My murderous life began as a young boy, first with animals and then with humans. The transformation took time. But I had enough practice by the time I hunted my first human.

The desire to kill was like a volcano waiting to erupt inside me. Every time I squeezed the life out of someone, my mind would be free from madness and become dormant. When the craving slithered into my brain again, I would go back, hounding for my next victim. I wasn't greedy. It had been a month since my last kill. The urge was back.

IT WAS THE END OF ASTRONOMICAL twilight, windy, and the thunder roared. No rain was permitted to touch the land. I was on a mission.

I angled my head to the sky. Don't rain, not now. Later, once I'm done, cry all you want, but for now, hold your tears, I warned mother nature.

Two girls were chatting as they were walking home in the night.

The sound of their laughter lingered in the air as I took my steps with caution and trailed behind them. We were on a narrow path, protected by bushes and trees on each side. A tiny droplet hit my skin. I wiped it and concentrated on the firmament devoid of stars.

Don't you dare. I pointed at the sky.

Not a big fan of rainy days. The drier it was, the better. Easy to move around with no mud, no falling here and there. The sudden booming sound the sky gave forth startled me. I started chewing my fingernails.

The hunting trips started with weather checks. It didn't start as a ritual but became one. The prediction wasn't from meteorologists or weather forecasters from the tv. It was by a madman, or at least that's what everyone called him in my town. But the truth was far from that. The man had an excellent way of foretelling the weather by examining the sky. He was more of an unappreciated meteorology genius. I always consulted him. Even a slight drizzle, or any sign of rain, would terminate my murder plan. My weatherman had never been wrong before. That was about to change. Not only was the weather against me—something within me pleaded not to pursue my intention, but the urge to kill was too strong to ignore. I spurned my inner voice. The sky gave out another thunderous noise.

The girls' laughter got louder. It annoyed me. Shouldn't they be afraid to be out here in the open? They should. Why weren't they? The authority had warned everyone to avoid being out after dark. These girls didn't consider those cautions and were about to pay the price. One of them was, at least. I could manage two. Not a big deal, but remember, I wasn't greedy. My presence there was only for one. The other one was for safekeeping.

They were too involved in their conversation to notice my existence. Careless. From all my kills, recklessness made it easy for me to get to my prey. I always caught my victim off guard. Their inattention to their surroundings gave me the upper hand. I took it with great enthusiasm—never wasted a single opportunity. A proud hundred percent success rate to my name.

IT WAS TIME. THE GIRLS were at the intersection, paused to bid each other goodbye, and promised to meet the next day before going their separate ways. There was no tomorrow for one of them. Death was imminent. I would be the last person she would see when those eyes shut forever. I smiled in satisfaction, thinking of the moments that were about to take place.

The girl hiked up the hill and walked along the river. I was right behind her. Something about the sound of the water fascinated me. It was like music to my ears and even a cue to switch into killer mode. To be ready for my performance, my dark art.

I was closing in on her. I took a deep breath in the fresh air and was prepared to strike. She made a sudden stop. I jumped and shielded myself behind the tall neem tree. My eyes were on her. I waited like a caged animal, thirsty to unleash my hunger for murder.

She put her hand into her bag. I didn't want to give her the space to defend herself. I sped in her direction. My feet were pounding the ground like a beast. She was about to turn when I propelled her to the ground. She shouted. I dragged her by the hair towards the bushes as her screams got louder and louder.

Shush, I said, but she kept on yelling. No one is coming for you.

Help me, please! Please help me! Let me go!

Stop it. I tighten my grip on her hair.

Let me go! Help! She gave out a loud, piercing cry.

They never listen. It was the same with all of them. I got used to it. Let them have it their way and exhaust themselves. Fight for their life with their voice, as they were never strong enough to protect themselves from me.

I let her hair go. Free her from temporary pain, but I was on her before she could regain a sense of movement from the attack. Our eyes met, and instant recognition. The typical scenario was the victim's shock at the revelation of their perpetrator's identity. Understandable. Nobody would imagine someone like me, a role model to the youngest in my town, was out there committing brutal murders. But that day was unlike all my previous kills. I was as horrified as my victim was. But it was too late to spare her life. She had seen my face. My hand reached her neck, and our eyes were on each other.

Please. Don't hurt me. She started crying. We're friends. Let me go. I will tell no one. Trust me.

I couldn't trust her even if I wanted to. It was too risky. She