I Know From The beginning

The tall grass behind them rustled again. It was subtle at first, almost like the wind passing through, but it grew louder, signaling that someone was coming closer. Was it Isac returning to finish what he started? No. The sound was different—steady and confident. Navilla's heart raced, panic gripping her as she lay on the ground, the horrifying scene still playing out in her mind. Who could it be? Could someone have seen what was happening and come to help her? Or worse—was there another threat looming in the shadows?

Her chest tightened, and just as her mind prepared for the worst, the tall grass parted, revealing a familiar face.

"Hey, psychopath, how's your 42nd murder going? Did I disturb?" Zarif said, his voice casual, but his words dripping with sarcasm. He stood tall, a victor's grin plastered across his face, as if he had already won some invisible battle. There was a strange calm in the way he spoke, a confidence that seemed to radiate off him. He looked down at Isac, who was still scrambling to recover from the sudden shock of the stone that had disarmed him.

Navilla's mind reeled, struggling to comprehend what was happening. Zarif? Zarif was here? Of all people, why her brother? What was going on? Why did he know about the 42 murders? And why wasn't he terrified, like she was, standing in front of a killer with such casual ease?

Isac's shock quickly morphed into pure rage. The confusion in his eyes was now replaced by a seething fury, his body coiled like a snake ready to strike. He didn't hesitate. In one fluid motion, he lunged at Zarif, his teeth gritted in a mixture of fury and hatred. How dare this man interrupt his ritual? How dare he mock him like that?

Zarif stood his ground, completely unfazed by the sudden attack. As Isac launched a flying kick aimed at his neck, Zarif's arm moved with lightning speed, blocking the kick with his bare hand as though it were nothing. The impact of their clash reverberated through the air, but Zarif didn't budge.

Isac, not one to give up easily, followed the kick with a powerful punch to Zarif's stomach. But Zarif was faster. He countered it effortlessly with a kick of his own, his left leg blocking the blow before twisting his body and delivering a sharp knee to Isac's side, pushing him back. Isac stumbled but quickly regained his balance, his eyes wild with fury.

The two men exchanged blows, their movements sharp and aggressive. To Navilla, it seemed almost like a deadly dance—a vicious choreography of violence. Every punch, every kick was calculated, as if both men knew exactly what the other would do before they even moved. But Zarif was clearly the stronger, more skilled fighter.

With a sharp shove, Zarif finally pushed Isac to the ground, his hand slamming into Isac's face with a brutal force. The sound of the impact echoed through the empty riverside, sending shivers down Navilla's spine. Isac's head snapped back, but even as he took the first punch, he managed to block the second, his body twisting in an impressive display of flexibility. Still on the ground, Isac kicked Zarif from the back, a move that seemed almost impossible from his position. How could anyone kick with that much force while lying down?

Zarif staggered, falling backward as Isac used the opportunity to scramble to his feet. Before Zarif could recover, Isac had already retrieved his knife, the deadly weapon once again gleaming in his hand. His breath was heavy, his face twisted into a grim smile. He wasn't going to lose—not now.

Isac took a deep breath, readying himself. He raised the knife and got into a stance to throw it. Zarif, now standing, braced himself, preparing to block the attack. His eyes were locked on Isac's hand, following the movement of the blade, ready to defend. But then something changed.

Navilla saw it. Isac's eyes shifted, his expression flickering with something dark and malicious. In that instant, she realized with a growing dread that Zarif wasn't the target.

Isac wasn't aiming for him. He was aiming for her.

Time seemed to slow down as Isac shifted his stance ever so slightly. His arm swung forward, the knife cutting through the air, heading straight for Navilla's throat. If his aim was true, the blade would pierce her before anyone could react.

Navilla's breath caught in her throat. This was it. There was no way she could escape it. She was paralyzed with fear, her legs refusing to move as she watched the knife flying toward her with terrifying precision. She squeezed her eyes shut, bracing for the sharp pain, for the blood, for the cold grip of death.

But then—nothing.

The sound of the knife hitting flesh filled the air, but Navilla felt no pain. Slowly, hesitantly, she opened her eyes. Standing before her, blocking the path of the knife, was Zarif. His leg was outstretched, and she could see the deep cut that the blade had left in his flesh. Blood oozed from the wound, staining the grass below them, but Zarif had managed to deflect the knife just enough to keep it from hitting its intended target.

Isac cursed loudly, his face contorted in frustration. He had missed.

He didn't waste any time. Realizing he had lost control of the situation, Isac turned and bolted, disappearing into the tall grass without a second thought, leaving Zarif and Navilla behind.

Zarif, his face pale from the blood loss, tried to take a step forward, his leg trembling beneath him. He was determined to chase Isac, to finish what had been started, but as he took another step, his leg buckled, and he collapsed to the ground, slipping in the grass.

Navilla rushed to his side, her hands trembling as she knelt beside him. "Stop," she whispered, her voice breaking with emotion. "You can't chase him. He'll kill you for sure."

Zarif gritted his teeth, his face twisted in pain. "I'm fine," he muttered, though it was clear he was anything but. The blood continued to flow from the gash in his leg, staining his clothes and the earth around him.

"You're not fine," Navilla said, tears welling up in her eyes. "You saved me, Zarif."

He looked up at her, his expression softening for just a moment. "It's not over," he said, his voice low. "Isac... he'll be back."

Navilla nodded through her tears, knowing that he was right. Isac wasn't done. He wasn't the type to let things go, especially after losing control. But for now, for this moment, they had survived. Zarif had saved her life.

Zarif brought their family car when he came to rescue Navilla, driving with a calm that felt almost unnatural after the chaos they had just escaped. The silence between them was heavy, filled with questions that Navilla didn't know how to ask. Her mind swirled with thoughts of Isac, Zarif's unexpected arrival, and the strange, eerie confidence with which Zarif had confronted a murderer. She had so many questions but couldn't decide which to voice first.

She kept looking at Zarif from the corner of her eye, trying to read his expression, but his face remained blank, almost emotionless. How could he be so calm after what had just happened? After a while, unable to bear the silence any longer, Zarif finally broke it.

"If you're not going to ask me anything, I'm not going to answer anything either," he said, his tone casual, as if they were discussing something trivial. But the weight of his words snapped Navilla out of her stunned silence.

"I want to know everything," she blurted out, her voice trembling slightly. There was so much she didn't understand—about Zarif, about Isac, and about how everything had spiraled so quickly into something straight out of a nightmare.

Zarif's gaze remained fixed on the road, but he gave a slight nod. "Okay. So, what do you want to know first?"

Navilla took a deep breath, trying to gather her thoughts. "How did you know I was there? How did you know Isac was... like that? How did you know it was his 42nd murder? If you knew all of this, why didn't you stop him sooner?"

Zarif let out a soft sigh, almost amused. "That's a lot of questions."

"I have many more," Navilla said, her voice stronger now. "And I need answers to every one of them."

Zarif glanced at her, a smirk tugging at the corner of his lips, as if he found her curiosity amusing. "Alright, let's start with the first one. How did I know you were there?" He paused for a moment, then said, "I hacked your Facebook account and saw that Isac had messaged you."

Navilla blinked, caught off guard. "You... hacked my Facebook account?" Her voice was filled with disbelief.

Zarif shrugged. "It wasn't that hard."

Navilla opened her mouth to protest, but she let it go. She had bigger concerns than the invasion of her privacy. "And what about Isac?" she asked, her voice filled with urgency. "How did you know he was a... murderer?"

Zarif's face remained calm as he answered. "I've known about him for the last three months."

Navilla stared at him in shock. Three months? She couldn't wrap her head around it. "Three months?" she repeated, her voice rising. "How?"

"In his earlier murders, he made them look like accidents," Zarif explained, as if discussing something as mundane as the weather. "But after his 40th murder, he started getting sloppy. He started making them look like actual murders. Almost as if he was getting bored and wanted more excitement."

Navilla's blood ran cold. The ease with which Zarif talked about the murders—42 murders—was chilling. "And how do you know about all of this? If you knew, why didn't you stop him earlier? Why didn't you go to the police?"

Zarif shrugged again, his casual demeanor never wavering. "I could have ignored him. So I did."

Navilla's eyes widened. "You ignored him? You knew he was killing people, and you just ignored it?"

"They weren't my problem," Zarif said flatly. "Those 41 lives meant nothing to me."

Navilla was stunned into silence. How could her brother say something like that? The weight of his words hit her hard. "So why are you trying to catch him now?" she asked quietly, afraid of the answer.

Zarif's eyes flicked toward her briefly before returning to the road. "I thought the police would figure it out eventually," he said. "But they didn't. They're incompetent. That's when I decided to step in."

Navilla stared at him, her mind racing. "So... you do care? You care about stopping him?"

Zarif's expression darkened slightly. "Don't get the wrong idea," he said coldly. "I thought catching him would be fun."

Navilla felt a chill run down her spine. Fun? Was that all this was to him? A game? The realization hit her hard—Zarif wasn't like other people. He wasn't trying to catch Isac out of any sense of justice or morality. He was doing it for his own twisted sense of enjoyment.

"How did you figure out it was Isac?" she asked, her voice quieter now, almost hesitant.

"At first, I just suspected him," Zarif replied, his tone matter-of-fact. "But then I hacked your Facebook account and sent him a friend request."

Navilla frowned. "How did you know it was his account?"

"Simple," Zarif said, as if it were the most obvious thing in the world. "He doesn't use his own SIM card, but he doesn't steal phones either. He buys SIM cards from the black market."

Navilla stared at him in confusion. "And how does that relate to his Facebook account?"

Zarif glanced at her, a small smile playing on his lips. "To create a Facebook account, you need a SIM card. Those black markets that sell SIM cards? They also sell data on their sales. I bought the data of which SIM card Isac bought, tracked his ID, and then hacked your account."

Navilla was speechless. How could Zarif do something like that so easily? He spoke about hacking and tracking as if it were second nature to him, like it was a hobby.

"Once I hacked your account," Zarif continued, "I kept an eye on Isac's conversations. That's how I knew what was happening today. After that, you already know what happened."

Navilla's head was spinning. "But why did you suspect him in the first place?" she asked, still trying to piece everything together. "What made you think Isac was a killer?"

Zarif's eyes flicked to the rearview mirror before he answered. "The accidental death rate in a city is usually about 0.3% on average," he said, his voice as calm as ever.

Navilla blinked in confusion. "So?"

"Around August of last year, I noticed the rate had gone up to 0.7%," Zarif continued.

Navilla was still confused. "How was that noticeable to you? Why would you care about something like that?"

Zarif smiled faintly. "I have a keen eye for observation," he said cryptically. "And I was bored."

Navilla stared at him, unsure how to respond. This was all just a game to him. He had pieced together a string of murders simply because he had nothing better to do. The realization made her feel sick.

"Then what?" she asked, not sure she wanted to hear the rest.

Zarif took a deep breath. "At that time, it was Isac's 19th murder. I noticed a pattern. One of the victims—a girl—had died by drowning. She had no family and had just moved to the city for college. There weren't many people she knew, and she didn't engage much with others. When she died, she was alone. The only person who knew her was her landlord, a young lady. When I asked the landlord about the girl's friends, she said the girl only had a boyfriend. But her boyfriend was nowhere to be found, and when I hacked her profile, all her chat history had been deleted."

Navilla's heart raced as she listened to the story. "People can drown accidentally," she said, trying to make sense of it. "Why was that suspicious to you?"

Zarif's eyes glinted with something dark. "There's always something about the details," he said. "It wasn't just the drowning. It was the way everything was erased, the way the boyfriend disappeared. That's when I started suspecting Isac."

"But..." Navilla hesitated, her mind still struggling to keep up. "How could you be so sure?"

Zarif gave her a sideways glance, his smirk returning. "Instead of telling you, I'd rather show you how I pieced everything together."

Navilla felt a surge of frustration. "Show me? What does that mean?"

"You'll see," Zarif replied cryptically, his eyes fixed on the road ahead.

Navilla sighed, realizing she wasn't going to get all the answers right away. Zarif was always like this—keeping things to himself, revealing only what he wanted to. But for now, she decided to trust him. He had saved her life, after all. And even though his reasons were twisted, even though she didn't fully understand him, she knew that he was the only one who could help her make sense of everything that had happened.

As they drove through the quiet streets, the silence between them returned, heavy with the weight of unanswered questions. Navilla glanced out the window, watching as the city passed by in a blur of lights and shadows. Her world had changed in a matter of hours. The man she loved had turned out to be a monster, and her brother—the one person she had always thought she understood—was more of a mystery than ever.

The road stretched out before them.

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