I Killed My Boyfriend's Crush

My boyfriend's first love died in my bedroom.

I would never forget the day he grabbed my throat, his eyes bloodshot, screaming that I was a bitch.

Two years later, with my gun pressed against Blake's forehead, his eyes were rimmed with red. He whispered hoarsely, "I miss you."

With my finger on the trigger, I said coldly, "Take him away!"

1

The air felt thick with intimacy when a sudden ringtone jolted us apart.

A soft, familiar voice came through the phone.

"Melinda, go to sleep first. Tonight, I might not come back..."

I watched Blake's anxious, flustered movements. Pulling the blanket over myself, I covered the marks on my body and felt a wave of bitterness.

The messy bed still carried a hint of our closeness, but it left me with a chilling emptiness.

"Blake, can you not leave?" I gathered my courage, hoping against hope he'd stay, even just this once.

"Melinda, be good." Blake's voice dripped with gentleness, yet he didn't even glance my way.

His cold figure retreated. I wiped my tear-streaked face, and the wetness on my palm made my shattered heart ache even more.

I should have known. Blake would always choose Luna without hesitation.

That was an iron rule!

Two hours later, I dragged my suitcase onto a plane headed for Moonstone Bay.

Yes, I acted like a rebellious teenager, staging a childish runaway drama.

On the plane, I stared at the clouds just beyond the window. My eyes, though, kept drifting to my phone screen.

Maybe when he noticed I was gone, he'd call...

No, at least he'd send a message.

The phone screen lit up, then went dark, over and over.

No message from Blake ever came, not on the flight, not during the whole week I was away.

Life without Blake dragged on painfully. I'd rather have stayed a fish out of water, pathetic as that was.

In this drama, one perhaps only I ever understood, I failed, as always!

I bought a ticket and flew back home. Everything seemed so normal, yet I felt an urgent pull.

But fate loved to toy with people.

Full of resentment with nowhere to release it, consumed by longing, my heart pounding at the thought of seeing him again, I learned my boyfriend's beloved first love had died. And she died in my bedroom.

I would never forget the day he grabbed my throat, his eyes bloodshot, screaming that I was a bitch.

His fingertips tore into my tender skin, leaving glaring red marks.

My legs buckled. I collapsed to the ground, tears pooling in my eyes. "Blake, believe me! I didn't do it!"

His look of pure disgust froze me to the core.

He roared at me, "If it weren't for that face, you'd be dead with her today."

Yes, all because of this face, one that faintly echoed Luna's.

In his heart, I was nothing but a stand-in.

I had known this forever, yet I still let myself end up this pathetic.

I touched the throbbing wound on my neck and pressed hard.

Warm liquid flowed out. I trembled, laughing like a madwoman.

For a fleeting second, I thought I glimpsed pity in his icy stare.

A female officer helped me up, brushing back my tangled hair. Her gaze softened with sympathy.

I forced a smirk, mocking myself.

The man I'd have given my life to love had handed me over to prison himself.

Passing him, I rasped out words in a hoarse voice.

"Blake, you asked me more than once if I regretted loving you. Before, my answer never wavered. But now, I regret it!"

The figure beside me swayed, almost too slightly to notice. But what did it matter?

From that moment, I tore him from my heart, leaving a raw, bloody hole.

From then on, he was just a fleeting nobody in my life.

Blake, thank you for showing up in my shaky youth. Thank you for choosing to walk away...

2

Two years later, at a criminal investigation brigade.

"Officer, this is the suspect in this case."

I stared at the familiar face in the photo my colleague handed me. My hand shook uncontrollably.

Excitement overwhelmed me!

Every cell in my body buzzed with anticipation.

Long time no see, my prey!

Back then, the bedroom case lacked evidence. They released me without charges soon after.

After that, "Blake" vanished from my life. In its place came "prey."

I graduated university with top marks, sharp skills, and standout performance. They assigned me to the most critical, dangerous unit around-the criminal investigation brigade.

"Officer, we've pinned down the suspect's exact location. Time to move!"

I nodded softly, my mind already spinning with scenes of our reunion.

When I snapped back, I stood at the arrest site.

He bolted at the sound of us, but I cornered him right where I'd planned.

His familiar frame, that loathsome face, his everyday habits-they all became weapons I used to trap him, leaving him nowhere to run.

I skipped the chit-chat. I just wanted this done.

With my gun against Blake's forehead, his eyes glowed red. He murmured hoarsely, "I miss you."

That boy from years ago was gone. Did those weathered eyes still hold a shred of honesty?

I smirked, my red lips curling. His words meant nothing to me.

Then, as a warning, I tightened my grip on the trigger and said coldly, "Take him away!"

In the interrogation room, Blake stayed silent.

After he ignored us repeatedly, the rookie intern beside me snapped.

"Officer, I need some air!"

Those eyes never left me. I felt a flicker of frustration. "Blake, as the suspect in this murder case, don't you have anything to say?"

"Melinda, long time no see." Blake dodged my question, completely uncooperative.

"We found your fingerprints at Declan's death scene!" I narrowed my eyes, forcing the words through gritted teeth.

His gaze darkened suddenly, as if a memory surfaced.

His eyes flicked side to side. A faint smirk tugged at his lips, settling into a careless, rogue grin.

"Heh, no worries. We've got plenty of time!"

I thought I had time to wear him down. Then a colleague burst in, saying he wasn't tied to the case and needed to be released immediately.

I'd waited years to catch him myself. He was the key to this breakthrough. No way I'd agree.

I stormed off to argue, only to get a harsh scolding from our captain Archer.

In the end, I watched them uncuff him. He strolled out of the station without a care.

As he passed me, he leaned in and whispered in my ear. "Officer, you're out of time!"

His voice, always smooth, turned irresistible when he murmured close like that.

Worse, he blew into my ear playfully.

The warm breath brushed my earlobe. I clenched my fists, shivering slightly.

At the station door, he waved, saying we'd meet again if fate allowed. But I saw the smugness in his face plain as day.

I muttered under my breath, "Blake, you play the cocky young guy well. Too bad I'm not impressed!"

I plastered on a fake smile, waved back enthusiastically, and shouted, "Goodbye!"

He stumbled at that, nearly twisting his ankle.

Good riddance!

Over the next few days, I kept tailing him, unwilling to let go.

After some watching, I learned he liked spending an hour or two at a quiet bar every three nights.

But the bar ran clean. Nothing stood out, and I found no useful leads.

Still, I believed justice would catch up. Blake would pay!

That day, I followed him to the bar as usual.

"Officer, you're really stubborn. Guess you didn't get my hint."

Out of nowhere, Blake pinned me in a corner. He gripped my chin hard. His tone stayed light, but his hold tightened, dripping with menace.

"Mm, it hurts..." My breath grew heavy. A whimper slipped out.

But that felt weak. I bit my lip hard, refusing to let another shameful sound escape.

Blake saw right through me. He teased me on purpose.

His long fingers traced my collarbone. The cool touch made me shiver.

3

No blush came as he expected. Blake noticed something off about me. His expression faltered with panic.

My face paled. I fought the pain to warn him.

"I, Melinda, love smashing into walls till my head bleeds, never turning back. So, Mr. Suspect, you'd better watch out. Don't fall into my hands again!"

Maybe my grin looked too grim. Blake froze for a second.

While he spaced out, I hooked my leg and swung a punch, knocking him flat.

Another stab of stomach pain hit. Sweat beaded on my forehead.

Blake asked, "Your stomach's acting up again?"

I smacked away his hand as he tried to help, stumbling off to flag a taxi.

"Did you skip meals again? I'll take you to the hospital!"

"I don't need your help or your pity."

However, Blake insisted on dragging me to the hospital, even trying to force me.

But the second his hands hit my shoulders, nausea shot up my throat.

I yelled at him to get lost, drawing stares from the crowd.

The taxi door swung open. I dove in like my life depended on it. "To Willow Creek Estates."

Tears streamed down my face the whole ride. I couldn't tell if it was the stomach pain or something else.

My sobs caught the driver's attention. I used up his last tissues.

Before I got out, he fed me heartfelt advice and pressed a teddy bear plushie into my hands. He said it was for his daughter originally, but now it was mine, hoping I'd find more smiles than tears ahead.

I thanked him, hugged the bear, and dragged my weary body home.

The cold didn't even register along the way.

Maybe my heart felt warm.

In bed, I faced the bear. Wrapped in warmth, my stomach seemed to ease.

As I drifted toward sleep, an odd beeping sounded at the door.

I knew that noise too well.

Someone was punching in my door code!

I grabbed the baseball bat from under the bed, tiptoed over, and swung hard at the shadowy figure.

"It's me, it's me!"

The lights flicked on. Blake rubbed his shoulder, wincing.

Aha, that felt so good!

Instantly, I felt refreshed all over!

I glared at him and demanded coldly. "What do you want? Did you dig up my info? How'd you get my door code?"

"Officer, this isn't the station. I don't have to answer you."

"Then get out!"

"Take your medicine, and I'll go."

Ridiculous. The guy who nearly broke my jaw earlier now rushed to bring me meds. Did he think I was still that gullible? "Get out!"

However, after a tense standoff, I gave in to this stubborn jerk!

I snatched the pills from his hand, tossed them in my mouth, gulped water, wiped my lips, and snapped, "Happy now?"

Blake nodded, satisfied. He reminded me several times to set tomorrow's alarm before leaving.

Two years ago, I was a scatterbrain, always forgetting my alarm and messing up from oversleeping.

Now, my alarm rang on time every day.

In my mind, Blake's little games were pathetic.

I wouldn't repeat my mistakes. I'd crack this case.

Hard work paid off. My persistence brought new leads, earning me praise from the team.

Fueled up, I raced to Jade Holdings' lobby to catch suspect number 2.

Funny thing-I only learned that day suspect number 1 was the grandson of Jade Holdings' founder, Cade Willis, and suspect number 2 was his driver.

The sleek business car pulled up to the building right on cue.

One was the grandson, the other the driver. Jade Holdings had to be linked to this case, and so did that old man Cade.

But when the old guy saw me, he froze briefly before brushing it off.

I was swamped with work, focused on the driver. I didn't bother reading his face. "I'm a police officer. I need you to answer some questions."

Before the driver could reply, Blake popped up out of nowhere again.

I lost temper, "Still at it, huh!"

He spat, grabbed my arm, and yanked me three meters away from them.

Blake's temper flared. He hurled insults at me.

I just watched him rant until he sensed something was off.

Too late!

I gleefully slapped a pair of handcuffs on him and hauled him back to the station for obstructing official duties.

Before we left, I dangled his shiny cuffs at the old man with a smug wave, then strutted off with his precious grandson.

What I didn't know was that the old guy couldn't care less about Blake's mess.

If he couldn't handle something this small, he didn't deserve to be Cade Willis's grandson.