Characters:
Kristal Morgan (29) – A woman suffering from a rare psychological condition called Identity Dissociation Syndrome. After a traumatic breakup with her boyfriend Alex, she wakes up every day believing she is someone else — sometimes strong, sometimes broken, sometimes seductive, sometimes cruel.
Joseph Hart (38) – A psycho killer who targets women he believes are morally corrupt — especially those involved in extra-marital affairs. His mother cheated on his father and destroyed his childhood. Now he sees every “unfaithful” woman as his next target.
STORY START'S HERE.....
Day 1 — The Pawnshop Incident:
Yesterday, Kristal became Lana, a flirty, confident woman who believed she was cheating on her husband with any handsome man she liked. In Lana’s mind, her husband was boring, and she deserved adventure.
At the local pawnshop, she flirted with the young shopkeeper, touching his arm, whispering things, giggling like a teenager.
Joseph stood in the corner, unnoticed. He watched everything.
To him, it was disgusting. Another one, he thought. Another woman betraying her vows.
He followed her home quietly, planning her punishment.
Day 2 — Midnight:
The next night, at exactly 12:00 a.m., Kristal woke up suddenly breathless, sweaty, eyes wild.
Tonight, she believed she was Martha Reynolds, a betrayed housewife. In her mind, her husband was cheating on her with his secretary. The rage was boiling. She stormed through her apartment, searching for signs,perfume on the shirt, missed calls, anything.
She checked the clock again: 12:03 a.m.
“He’s still not home!” she screamed to the empty apartment. “He’s out with her! That blonde snake!”
She grabbed a wine bottle, gulped straight from it, and started crying. Her mascara smudged, she paced back and forth, planning what to say when he got home. How she’d slap him. How she’d throw her ring in his face.
She never noticed the back door open silently.
Joseph entered.
Knife in hand. Breathing calm. Eyes filled with judgment.
He wasn’t expecting this version of Kristal,sad, furious, betrayed.
But it didn’t matter.
“She’s still the same,” he whispered. “She plays roles to justify her sins.”
As Kristal ranted to her imaginary husband, Joseph crept closer. His plan was to slit her throat quietly. No pain. No sound.
But suddenly, she turned,and saw him.
Her confusion was instant.
“Honey?” she said, voice slurred. “What are you doing here? You’re supposed to be with her, right?”
Joseph froze.
She walked closer, angry, shaking. “Answer me! I know you’ve been seeing that little tramp from your office!”
Joseph’s hand gripped the knife tighter. But something odd happened…
Kristal broke down crying. “Why wasn’t I enough for you?”
And then she laughed. A broken, scary laugh. “You know what? I don’t care anymore. Maybe I’ll cheat too. Just like you.”
Joseph’s eyes widened.
Is she mocking me?
She moved toward him and whispered, “I saw this guy at the pawnshop yesterday. God, he was so hot.”
She laughed again, not knowing Joseph was that man.
That was the last thread.
He grabbed her neck, slammed her into the wall. “YOU’RE SICK!” he yelled.
Kristal gasped, choking, trying to understand what was happening.
Suddenly, her mind shifted again.
She became Lily, a terrified 8 year old girl who thought this was her father punishing her.
“Papa, please!” she screamed. “I didn’t do anything!”
Joseph’s hand paused.
“Wha...what are you doing?” she whimpered. “Why are you hurting me?”
His knife shook.
For a moment, he saw his own mother in her the same fake tears, the same games. But also… a frightened child.
He hesitated.
And that was Kristal’s moment.
She kicked him hard and ran.
Minutes later,
Kristal called 911 from her bathroom, where she’d locked herself. Her identity was now fading, she was no longer Martha, or Lily, or Lana.
She was just Kristal again.
The girl who was left. The girl who was broken. The girl who had no idea why a man was trying to kill her.
Kristal was hiding in the bathroom, trembling, bleeding slightly from her neck, whispering into the phone as the police operator told her to stay calm. She locked the door, pushed the sink in front of it, and crouched down, whispering prayers. Her mind was still hazy flickering between Kristal and the broken persona of Lily, the scared little girl.
But Joseph wasn’t done yet.
Outside, he looked around the house, saw the small bathroom window, just enough to crawl through.
He grabbed a brick.
CRASH!
Glass flew everywhere. Kristal screamed. Before she could react, Joseph dove through the window like a beast, landing hard on the sink, knocking it over. His eyes wild, his knife raised.
“YOU THINK YOU CAN FOOL ME AGAIN?!”
Kristal backed away, crawling toward the toilet, screaming,and then…
Everything changed.
She blinked. Her body froze. Her expression shifted.
Her eyes turned sharp. Her face hardened.
Her voice deepened.
She stood up slowly, like a woman reborn.
Now… she was Agent K-29, a trained Rogue Intelligence Officer, who believed Joseph was an international assassin who had come to kill her because she had exposed a secret mission.
She didn’t remember the bathroom. She didn’t remember the window or the call.
All she saw was her target.
Joseph rushed at her, but she moved fast.
CRACK!
She slammed her elbow into his nose. Blood sprayed.
Joseph staggered back, stunned.
She grabbed the broken towel rod and jabbed it into his ribs.
He grunted. His knife dropped.
“Who... what the hell…” he muttered.
But she wasn’t done.
“You’ve picked the wrong agent to assassinate,” she hissed.
She kicked him in the knee ,it buckled.
She slammed his head against the wall , twice.
She twisted his arm, almost dislocated.
Joseph, a trained killer of women, was now choking on his breath, trying to keep up.
He grabbed her hair, she bit his arm.
He punched her in the ribs,she ignored the pain and drove her thumb into his eye.
“STAY DOWN!” she yelled.
Joseph collapsed. Gasping. Trembling.
For the first time, he was scared.
She stood over him, panting. Eyes like steel.
“You're not the hunter tonight. I am.”
She picked up the knife. Joseph rolled away, crawling like a worm, bleeding from everywhere.
He barely made it to the door.
But as she raised the knife to finish him, she blinked.
And everything changed again.
She was Kristal now.
The real Kristal.
Holding a knife. In a destroyed bathroom.
With a man crawling out, bloody and broken.
She dropped the knife. Backed into the corner. Began to cry.
“Wh… what happened?” she whispered.
Joseph lay bleeding, broken ribs pressing against his lungs. But hate... hate kept him alive.
He slowly stood up, blood dripping from his nose, eye nearly swollen shut.
His hand brushed against the knife, but he pushed it aside.
No.
He wanted to beat her. He wanted to feel her pain with his fists.
Like all the other women before.
Women who, in his twisted mind, "deserved it."
Now Kristal or whatever identity she was trapped in would be his final justice.
He grabbed her by the hair.
SMASH!
His punch landed like a hammer.
She screamed. Fell to the ground.
He pulled her up — another punch.
Then a kick to her stomach.
Then another.
And another.
“PLEASE STOP!” she cried, voice broken. “Take my money! All of it! Just don’t kill me!”
Blood mixed with her tears.
But Joseph’s eyes were dead, like a wolf in a frenzy.
Revenge. Revenge. Revenge.
He slammed her against the wall.
Raised his fist one final time
THWACK!
His fist struck her temple hard.
Her eyes rolled back.
She slumped to the floor, unconscious.
Silence.
Just the sound of Joseph breathing. Heavy. Shaking.
But then… she stirred.
Her eyes fluttered.
And when they opened,
She was no longer Kristal.
Now… she was Detective K. Monroe of the LAPD Homicide Division.
Her voice calm. Icy.
Her body language changed in seconds all weakness gone.
She slowly stood up, wiping blood from her lips.
Joseph blinked. Confused.
The fear returned to him. Again.
“You’re under arrest,” she said coldly.
“For the murder of six women in the state of California.”
Joseph rushed at her but this wasn’t the fragile Kristal anymore.
She blocked his punch.
Countered with a brutal knee to his chest.
He staggered she jabbed him twice in the jaw.
They brawled like animals.
Fists. Nails. Blood. Screams.
He slammed her into a mirror.
She slammed his face into the sink.
He tried to choke her.
She bit through his hand.
Every punch shook the walls.
CRACK!
A rib broke. Someone’s. Maybe both.
THUD!
They both slammed into the floor.
Both bloodied.
Breathless.
Half-conscious.
Their bodies lay twisted, arms tangled, blood soaking the tiles.
Kristal blinked. Her breath slowed.
Joseph groaned his limbs twitching.
Then…
Everything went black.
Pain. Throbbing. Blinding.
Kristal slowly opened her eyes.
The bathroom was destroyed. Blood painted the floor. Broken glass sparkled like tiny stars in the shadows.
She blinked again. Her heart racing.
And then… her mind rewrote everything.
She wasn't Kristal anymore. Not the woman with broken memories.
Now she was Raina, the bruised and beaten wife of a gangster. And the man lying beside her?
Not Joseph the psycho killer.
He was her husband Vincent, the feared crime lord of Eastside L.A.
And this?
This was just another night.
Another beating.
Another storm he brought home after a war with rival gangs.
She looked at his face, bloodied, barely conscious. She thought he was hiding from a shootout. She remembered nothing real.
In her delusion, she whispered:
"You fought with DeLuca’s crew again, didn’t you?"
She sat up, groaning, holding her ribs.
She looked at herself in the mirror bruised, split lip, blood on her cheek.
She didn’t cry.
Not anymore.
This was her life now.
A woman trapped in a mansion with a devil in disguise.
A husband who used her like a punching bag when the streets didn’t bleed enough.
She limped to the sink, washed her face.
Blood swirled down the drain.
Behind her, Joseph stirred.
She turned to face him.
He groaned, lifted his head. "Where… am I?"
She replied softly, eyes hollow:
"Home, Vincent. You’re home. You always come back here to bleed."
He blinked. Confused. The name didn’t make sense to him.
But he was too hurt to argue.
She walked over slowly. Sat beside him.
“You beat me again tonight,” she said.
“But this time, I’m not sure if you’ll wake up tomorrow.”
A tear slipped down her cheek… mixed with a smile.
Was it grief? Or something else?
In her mind, she didn’t realize she was still Kristal a woman suffering from a dangerous delusional identity disorder.
In her world now…
She was a gangster’s wife, lying beside the man who destroyed her piece by piece.
Blood soaked the floor.
Glass cracked under the weight of silence.
Then DING DONG.
The doorbell rang, echoing like a gunshot in the dark hallway.
Within minutes, the police broke in.
What they found inside was straight out of a nightmare.
A bloodied woman, barely breathing. Her face swollen. Ribs bruised. Eyes unfocused.
Beside her lay a man lifeless. Beaten. Skull fractured. The body of Joseph.
“Ma’am, can you hear us?” an officer said, crouching beside her.
Kristal opened her eyes slowly, her lips trembling.
She whispered in her fragile voice:
“My… husband. He’s a gangster. They came for him. He… he beat me again. Said I deserved it. Said I made him weak…”
The officers exchanged grim glances.
But then, one senior officer gasped.
“Wait,” he said, moving closer. He bent to look at Joseph’s face, wiping the blood away.
“That’s not her husband. That’s Joseph Karell, the serial killer. The one who murdered six women across the state.”
Gasps echoed. The room turned cold.
He continued, “He targets women in broken relationships. Abused women. Cheaters. Vulnerable souls.”
Kristal lay there, shivering, unaware of the truth. Her mind still lost in the fog of fiction.
She was rushed to the hospital.
Doctors examined her.
Psychologists reviewed her history.
And the truth unfolded, Kristal had no husband.
She had Dissociative Identity Disorder, triggered after a brutal breakup with her boyfriend Alex.
Since then, every day… she became someone else.
A betrayed wife.
A spy.
A detective.
A victim.
And today… nearly a corpse.
Weeks Later…
A nurse adjusted the curtains in Room 311 of the psychiatric unit.
Sunlight spilled onto the white floor.
Kristal slowly opened her eyes.
She blinked, looked around at the medical equipment, the charts, the smell of antiseptic.
She looked at her hands. Calm. Steady.
She reached for a stethoscope on the table beside her.
Then smiled.
She stood up tall, fixed her coat, and said to the nurse:
“Get me the files on Patient 204. I believe I’m due for surgery in an hour.”
Because today…
She wasn’t Kristal.
She wasn’t a victim.
She wasn’t a killer’s prey.
She was Dr. K. Linhart , head neurosurgeon.
The mirror on the wall didn’t reflect a broken woman anymore.
It reflected someone who believed she could heal the world.
Even if… she couldn't heal herself.
The end.
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