The Cult

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A large pounding erupted through Sophia’s small New York City apartment like several small explosions. Her then-boyfriend, Nic came busting through the door, shoving his way in.
“Sophia?! SOPHIA!” He shouted out for her. Panic trembled in his voice. “Where are you?!”
“What?!” She called out frantically stepping out of the bathroom still naked under a towel and her hair tied up in a turban. Water droplets still glistened off of her shoulders and steam seeped out of the small bathroom.
“Pack your bags, NOW.” He said hurrying to the hall closet and grabbing her brown leather suitcases.
“What is it?” She said clutching onto the towel, her cyan hued eyes wide with fear. The time had come. The time was now. Sophia just wished it didn’t have to come so soon.
“Listen to me, okay? They put a hit out on you.”
“What?” She said to quietly it was almost a whisper. Her body froze as she watched him throw her suitcase onto her bed and fling open.
“They put a hit out on you and if we don't get you out of this city tonight, you’re going to have the mafia coming to your doorstep. I have a plan, okay? We’re going to get you somewhere safe.”
He began pulling clothes of hers from her closet and throwing them without care into her luggage before pushing past her and grabbing other essentials from the bathroom. Sophia watched in fear.
“And what about you? What are you going to do?” She said.
“I’ve already got it all figured out, my dove,” he said racing towards her and cupping her face before placing a kiss on her lips. “But we have to get you out of here. Get dressed.” Sophia nodded and unwrapped her body from the towel. Nic continued to grab what essentials she needed including a fake ID and a plane ticket.

Nic was a hitman for the Santorini family. Sophia was a crime analyst for NYPD. She had discovered a serial killer in the city killing men of Italian descent. Little did she know that Nic was the killer. One evening in a drunken fit, Sophia angrily confronted him about the murders as she realized that the killer she had been hunting down was in her bed every single night. Nic explained to her to that he killed the men out of revenge for killing his father and other male mafia members, leaving him an orphan. The situation tugged at her heartstrings leaving her confused and scared. She was actively helping in the investigation while unknowingly sleeping with the killer. Does she turn him in, or does she let him continue killing? Without the help of Sophia, the NYPD was able to trace the murders to the man who hired Nic to take out the victims.

“She’s helping, Nic. Don’t you see?” Anthony said leaning across a dinner table poking a fork in Nic’s direction.
“She’s not,” Nic said calmly. “She’s trying to draw the attention away from us.”
Anthony gave a steady glare to Nic before wiping his mouth with the white cloth napkin and slapping it on the table.
“Then what’s this?” He said pulling out his phone and accessing a surveillance camera, shoving the screen into Nic’s face. It was a video from earlier in the day of NYPD detectives and armed officers at his doorstep. “Anthony Santorini! This is NYPD, open up!” Nic could hear the officers call on the video.
“They found me, Nicky. She. Is. Helping. Them. And if you don't take care of her, we will. I promise you that.”



Sophia tugged on a pair of jeans and a dark grey Henley. She let her curly locks hang down her back, still soaking wet while Nic continued to pack her bags.
“I don’t understand,” she said tugging on a pair of boots. “Aren’t they going to come after you if they find out that I left?”
“I’ve already got it taken care of, he said pulling up a picture on his phone. It was a body face down in a muddy pit surrounded by woods laying in a pool of blood. The clothes were Sophia’s. Her eyes widened as they shot from the picture to Nic.
“This is where I was this morning.”
“What the f*** did you do?” She asked quietly and aggressively. “Don’t worry,” he said tucking the phone back into his pocket. “I didn’t kill an innocent woman. It’s a sex doll. The ones that have silicone skin and real human hair. I got one, put it in your clothes, stabbed it a bunch of times, and poured red-colored corn syrup on it. It’s a fake. I show this picture to them, they will think you’re dead.” Sophia stood stone-faced to Nic as he continued to pack her bag. Her small hand gripped on his large bicep, forcing him to stop.
“And what if they find out that I’m not dead?”
The two stood gazing at each other - both feeling the pit of their stomachs dropping and their hearts leaping up into their throats.
“Then we’ll cross that bridge when we get there,” Nic said quietly.
Before Sophia could blink, they were at the airport. Her flight in a fake name was paid in full with cash from Nic. They both stood outside her terminal. She had to board her flight to Dallas in a few minutes. They stood close as if they were the only ones in the airport. Nic ran his finger along her cheek, wiping away a small tear that had found its way down. Nic said nothing to comfort her. He didn’t know what to say. All of their dreams the couple had planned together were now gone and this was their final goodbye.
“I don’t want to go,” she whispered finally looking up to him with red shot eyes from crying. His lips twisted and pressed together, keeping himself from getting too emotional.
“I know, dove.” He said letting his velvet voice soothe over her. “I don’t want you to either.”
“Come with me, then.” She said pulling on his jacket, bringing them closer. “I can’t lose you, too.”
“You know I can’t.” He said cupping her heart face into his large palms. “One day - one day we will meet again.”
“Flight 1098 to Dallas is going to now begin boarding...”
More tears fell from her eyes as Sophia began to lose her composure.
“Come find me, please,” she begged as she pressed her face into his chest, staining his shirt with her tears.
“I will. I promise,” he said stroking her new short hair she created in the bathroom and kissed her hard on her forehead. Sophia forced to pull her face away from Nic’s chest. As she did, he brought her face to his one last time kissing her and feeling her soft lips. Sophia wrapped her arms around his torso, feeling his warmth, his strength. Their kiss trailed off into smaller, lighter pecks as she began to pull away.
“I love you,” he whispered.
“I love you, too.”
Sophia turned and she was gone.

One year and nine months later, Sophia had long settled into her new home in the city of Dallas, Texas. It was a city not too obvious for her to go to, but not too obvious to easily find her. She obtained another criminal analyst job with the city’s police department and was living her life as best as she could while still constantly looking over her shoulder. Going back into law enforcement as a career was a risky decision, but it was all Sophia knew. She hadn’t heard from Nic or Anthony. She hadn't heard from NYPD either. Sophia assumed Nic took care of that loose end for her too. The sunlight danced in between her sheer curtains, letting the rays sneak through and illuminate the floating dust particles to mimic tiny snowflakes. Slowly she stirred, rolling over and picking up her phone to look at the time. 6:43 a.m. A light groan escaped her throat as she slapped her phone back onto the nightstand.
“I don’t wanna,” she complained rubbing her tired face.
Unwillingly, Sophia rose from her bed and began her morning routine. Showering, quick cup of instant coffee, bare minimum makeup, and finally dressed before heading out the door to work. The substation reeked of marijuana and heroin. Another drug bust must have happened overnight - again. Sophia had grown used to the stench at this point.
After an uncomfortable elevator ride with other employees whom Sophia didn’t know, she finally made her way down the hall and to her desk. As she sat, she discovered a large manilla envelope on her desk. She felt a rock sit in the pit of her stomach.
“Please don’t let it be from Anthony,” she thought as she picked up the envelope to examined it. There was no indication of who the envelope was from or why it was on her desk. She held her breath as she began to slowly open the envelope, praying it wasn’t a picture of an executed Nic. Her small hands trembled as she pulled out the papers from inside. Just reports.
Sophia quietly released her breath. “Thank god,” she thought. Her eyes scanned over the report and her brow pushed together in confusion. With them in hand, she made her way to her sergeant’s office and lightly knocked her knuckles on the door.
“Hey, Sophie, what’s up?” He said. Sophia hated Sophie. She was 25 - not 5. He only merely glanced up at her when she entered his office. Instead of replying, she just simply held up the reports and said nothing. The silence got his attention.
“Ah, yes. Have a seat,” he said. “And shut the door."
This was important. Every time he asked her to shut the door, she was either in trouble or she was about to be “voluntold” to work something big. He clasped his chocolate hands together.
“How much of that have you read?”
“Barely skimmed it,” she said laying the papers in her crossed lap. Sergeant Henderson leaned back in his chair.
“We have been getting reports like this for several months now. Women have been disappearing only to be found at different locations throughout the city. It appears they all have been a part of some sort of ritual as a sacrifice - some voodoo sh*t that I... I’ll save you my rant.”
“Thank you," she said with her eyes now dancing over the reports and scanning the images of the women.
“We would like your help. These ritual locations are constantly changing, and we can never predict where the next one will be.”
Sophia sighed returning the reports back to her lap.
“How soon do you need it?” She asked looking slightly bored.
“How long do you need?”
Sophia shrugged and glanced out of his office window, peering at the surrounding building's rooftops. “Four hours?”
“I’ll be waiting,” he said.
Sophia lightly nodded as she exited Henderson’s office and returned to her desk. She put in her headphones, turned on some music, and began working.

There was a formula Sophia used to determine the next crime of a series. And it was all done by mathematics. She read through each report and documented each one into a spreadsheet - finding the similarities and the differences. From there she plotted the locations on a map, then laid a grid on top, obtaining x and y-axis points. These would help her determined the next location. After hours of reading reports, performing basic math, and studying the trend, Sophia was ready to present her findings. She gathered her map, her spreadsheet and her reports and made her way back to Henderson's office.
“Already?” he said a little surprised raising his eyes from his computer screen. “It’s only been 2 hours.”
Sophia silently shrugged. “Well, alright, let’s go.” He said raising from his desk.
“Go where?" She asked, her brows pushing together again as she followed Henderson out of his office and out of the intel department.
“To homicide.”
Her heart leaped into her throat again. This wasn't the first time a homicide division has asked for her help. The last time was in NYC and she prayed this wouldn't be the same outcome.
As Henderson and Sophia reached the floor below them where the robbery and homicide unit was located, she was met with a team in a large conference room they called “the war room.” A large map of the city was sprawled out on the far east wall and chalk markings of where the previous rituals had taken place. The meeting stopped once Henderson and Sophia entered the room.
“LT,” Henderson said stepping aside and presenting Sophia. “Sophie Bennett has some intel for us,” he said stepping aside.
“It’s Sophia,” she whispered as quietly as she could before glancing down to her papers. “So after going through all of the reports, I’ve determined that the next location of the ritual is going to be somewhere in the vicinity of Colt Creek Avenue.” She said tossing down a small picture of a google image overlooking the street. “I can't pinpoint exactly where, but no more than 1/4 of a mile in all directions. Probably a club of some sort. The missing woman, Carolina Godreau is probably going to be the victim. She’s been missing for 6 days now and she’s probably been tortured every single day since.”
“Why her though?” one detective piped up. Sophia shrugged.
“No clue. None of the other female victims have anything in common with each other. They don't live in the same areas, they don’t have similar jobs, ethnicities, religions, nothing. It appears to just be random. If there is a pattern, I wasn’t able to find it.”
“How accurate is this prediction of the location?”
“68% percent,” Sophia said confidently. The lieutenant scoffed and chuckled.
“That’s not very reassuring.”
“That’s as high as you're going to get. I’ve determined this prediction through math. I’m not psychic. If you want to ignore this, then fine. The next murder will not be on my hands - it’ll be on yours.” She said giving him a cold stare. It was unusual for a civilian to speak to a ranking sworn officer in this manner, but Sophia was raised to stand her ground by her father - a military father. The lieutenant stared back waiting for Sophia to blink or glance away but she didn’t. The detectives, including Sergeant Henderson, played ping pong in looks between the two waiting for one of them to react.
“When will the next murder happen?”
“Tonight,” she said matter of factly. “Each time of death has been just before midnight.”
“So you’re saying if we find the location on Colt Creek Avenue, just before midnight, we could save this woman?”
“Yes.”
“Do we have any suspects?”
“You’re homicide, you tell me.”
Another staring contest between the two. Sophia raised an eyebrow - the lieutenant twirled a pen in between his large chubby fingers before leaning forward.
“Let the Sheriff know. We’re going tonight. I was CSC teams on this, and I was SWAT when we have the location pinpointed. I want an extra deputy with Sophia, and we need to get her a vest. Charlie, make sure we have EMS on standby when we go out. We're going to end this tonight.”
The detectives stood and began to scramble to make arrangements for the sting to happen. Sophia became unsettled when he discussed getting a vest for her.
“Wait, what?” She said following the lieutenant out of the War Room. “Sir, I don't think I should be going.” He stopped in his tracks and turned to face her. His large frame towered over her and his muscles seemed ready to rip his shirt apart.
“You are the only one who’s been able to help us find the next location. Our own analysts couldn't do this. You’re going. Sarge?” He said his eyes raising to Henderson. He quickly nodded.
“Yes, sir. I’ll make sure she gets a vest.” The lieutenant’s eyes fell to Sophia again. “Be here at 6:30.”


Sophia sat uncomfortably in the front seat of the black SUV. The vest consisted of metal plates that weighed on her shoulders and made her an easy 30 pounds heavier. She sat in the vehicle with a deputy who wished he could have been anywhere else at the moment. They drove around Colt Creek Ave for hours and the sun had long set. It was just outside of Dallas along Main St. She was looking for any signs of where the location would be. Sophia caught the figure of a person making their way to an alley, pushing past a gate.
“Up there,” she said to the deputy. He rolled his eyes and inched the vehicle forward. By the time they had reached the spot, the gate had already been closed.
“What does that lead to?” she asked examining out of the window. The deputy shrugged.
“I don’t know, this isn't my district,” he said, annoyed. Sophia scoffed and exited the vehicle.
“Hey! Bennett!” the deputy called out to her in a half-assed attempted to keep her in the vehicle. Making sure no one else was watching, Sophia quietly made her way to the gate and lightly pushed it open to peer inside down the alley. A metal door with a small window had just closed and a small light flickered above.
“Bingo.” She whispered before making her way back to the vehicle. “Found it,” she said opening the door and hopping inside. The deputy, now alert pulled out his radio and gave their location, calling for the others to join them. It was 11:23 p.m. and they were running out of time. Mere minutes had passed before everyone began piling in front of the door. SWAT reached the door first.
“Don’t give them a warning call. Bust in there,” the SWAT Captain said over their earpiece radio.
Sophia could hear over the radio “3. 2. 1."
“SHERRIF’S OFFICE. EVERYONE ON THE GROUND NOW!”
Sophia could hear the commotion of women screaming and loud shuffling and thud of chairs being knocked over and bodies hitting the floor from those who tried to run.
“We got her,” one stated over the radio. “Female victim. One stab wound to the chest, have EMS en route.”
Sophia's heart sank. They were too late. As the deputies and SWAT team cleared the room, Sophia snuck her way in. Her eyes scanned the room and saw her lying there with the knife still in her chest. She felt her stomach turn, suddenly remembering why she couldn't be a nurse or a doctor. She was astounded at the setup. Candles, unfamiliar markings, and pentagrams. An odd scent filled her nose and Sophia tried to identify it but couldn't. A symbol on the altar caught her eye. She had never seen it before. Pulling a pen from the vest, Sophia quickly drew it in the palm of her hand. Her head began to spin with the legalities of this case. Were all of these people accessory to murder? They didn't do anything to attempt to stop it. But then again, they didn’t perform the act of piercing the knife into her. So are they just witnesses? What if the victim was here of her own free will and this was a part of their religion? Would this be violating the constitutional right? She couldn't make any sense of it as she began to wander and linger around the room. A figure caught her eyes. He was eerily calm as he stood in the chaos of the room. Sophia locked her eyes onto him before the SWAT Captain approached her.
“Sophia,” he said breaking her gaze. “We need to get you out of here.” He said leading her by laying a hand between her shoulder blades. Sophia glanced at the man again before being led out of the crime scene. She met with the homicide lieutenant whom she learned his name was Lanier. He had a look of defeat on his face.
“You were right,” he said leaning against the vehicle she arrived in with his arms folded across his chest.
“Yea, I know,” she said tucking her hands in between her vest and her waist. She turned and glanced back at the scene behind her.
“Can I go now?” She asked. Lt. Lanier nodded.
“Yea. I’ll have Sullivan take you back to the office. You can leave your vest with him.

Sophia plopped onto her couch with a freshly opened beer in her hand. Her head hung low for a few moments - wishing they could have been there a moment sooner. She looked into her palm again staring at the symbol, now slowly erasing. Sophia quickly sketched it out on a small sticky note and slapped it on the front of her files. Her eyes stared at the symbol almost as if she was waiting for something to happen. She made it a personal goal to figure out the riddle of all of this.
 
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