The Murder House Chapter 5

I'd lived in the murder house for three years now.

Every moment, I prepared.

Cameras installed inside and outside the door.

Six wall-mounted monitors in the bedroom.

Every delivery driver, every courier—all recorded on video.

Knives, torture devices, all kinds of implements—electric drills, handcuffs...

The kitchen even had a massive iron pot.

Everything ready. I just needed the killer.

My obsession with revenge drove me to study horror movies and books obsessively.

Three years of lying low, I'd watched every horror film from around the world.

Thai ones, Vietnamese, Korean, Japanese...

My sister's death looked more like a ritual sacrifice.

The killer definitely didn't commit random murder.

The police only believed in science.

They sympathized with my sister's fate but couldn't accept my talk of superstition.

They even suggested I see a psychiatrist.