Dead After Our New Year's Blind Date

My New Year’s Day blind date opened with a demand: two kids in three years. My response? “Are you in a rush to die?” That was enough to make him storm out. But when I went to pay, the waitress informed me that my date hadn’t just skipped out on the bill—he’d added a table’s worth of limited-edition specials before he left. “The total comes to $3,800, miss. How will you be paying?” I tried calling Mark, but his phone went straight to voicemail. He was ghosting me. Left with no other choice, I gritted my teeth, paid the bill, and sent a text message wishing his entire family a very special kind of hell. I had just gotten home that evening when the police showed up at my door. “Mark is dead. And you were the last person to see him alive.”

1 The words hit me like a physical blow, and for a second, my mind went completely blank. My first thought was a chilling one: Did my curse actually work? “Dead? How did he die?” “Based on our preliminary investigation, Mark hanged himself in his home. A neighbor found him and called it in. The medical examiner places the time of death about an hour after you two parted ways.” I met Detective Miles’s gaze, a cold dread creeping up my spine. “So you think I killed him? Officer, you’ve got the wrong person! I’m innocent!” I pleaded. “I admit, things got a little heated at dinner, but we’re adults. I wouldn’t kill him just because I was angry. Besides, there are cameras all along my route home. I didn’t have the time to kill him.” “Are you sure it was just ‘a little heated’?” I nodded without hesitation and recounted our conversation. Detective Miles cut me off. “But according to our information, that meal cost you over three thousand dollars, and you paid for it all yourself. Witnesses at the restaurant said you were yelling at him quite fiercely.” “Damn right I was yelling!” I shot back. “He deliberately ordered a ton of expensive food before he left, sticking me with the bill. What, I’m not allowed to be angry about that?” Sensing my agitation, he tried to calm me down before sliding a bank statement across the table. “Half an hour ago, Mark’s entire bank account was emptied. The funds were transferred into your account. This would have been approximately ten minutes after he died.” He leaned forward. “We checked the street cameras. There’s a fifteen-minute gap where you were in a CCTV blind spot just before you entered your building.” I froze. “So what are you suggesting? That in those fifteen minutes, I went to his house, overpowered a grown man, staged a suicide, and then just casually walked home like nothing happened?” The timeline was absurd. No normal person could move that fast. Detective Miles seemed to realize this, too, and shifted gears, asking me how Mark and I met. Being treated like a murder suspect was starting to wear on me. “It was a blind date,” I said, my voice tight with frustration. “You know how it is, Detective. Once you pass thirty, the dating pool shrinks. I wasn’t looking for a whirlwind romance, just someone reliable to build a life with.” “So I asked my best friend, who runs a matchmaking agency, to keep an eye out for any high-quality candidates.” “She introduced me to Mark six months ago. He was a manager at a big tech firm, made over $40,000 a month, owned his house, his car… On paper, he was perfect. We’ve been seeing each other for the last six months.” I let out a long, weary sigh. “But today, I was planning to officially break up with him. He must have thought I was going to propose, because he launched into this whole list of demands.” Detective Miles tapped his pen on the table. “You said Mark met all your criteria. So why were you breaking up with him? Or was this about his money from the very beginning?” I hesitated, a flicker of unease crossing my face. He saw it and pounced. “You’re the prime suspect in his death. The only way we can find the real killer is if you tell us everything.” I sighed. “His resume was perfect, but he was… rigid. Like I told you, he wanted me to quit my job after we got married, have two kids in three years, and be a perfect little housewife. We weren’t even officially a couple, and he was already trying to check my phone and control who I saw.” “I tried to end it three months ago. He begged me, promised he would change. He didn’t.” I chose my next words carefully. “And in terms of intimacy, there was an urgency to him that was unsettling. I even suspected he had a violent streak. Once you see red flags like that before you’re even married, why wouldn’t you leave?” The detective seized on my last point. “You suspected he had a violent streak?” I nodded. “I was almost certain of it. He was just good at hiding it.” He continued to grill me with questions. Thankfully, I was able to find a shop owner on the street who remembered seeing me during that fifteen-minute CCTV blind spot, confirming my alibi. With a perfect alibi, the suspicion on me temporarily lifted. As I was leaving the station, I met his appraising stare. “From the look on your face, you seem disappointed that I’m innocent.” Detective Miles just stared back at me, his voice flat. “I trust my gut.” I let out a dismissive laugh. “Your gut? Then maybe you should break that bad habit, Detective. Cases are solved with evidence, not feelings.”

2 A heavy rain had begun to fall. I pulled the umbrella I’d packed out of my bag. For once, the weather forecast got it right. On the way home, I couldn’t stop thinking about why Mark would die. A flicker of guilt sparked within me. Could my rejection have hit him so hard that he decided to kill himself? But he never seemed that emotionally fragile. I got home, my mind a storm of questions, and went through the motions of getting ready for bed. As I reached for my towel, the small embroidered whale on it sent a jolt through my brain, like a bolt of lightning. I suddenly remembered something from a month ago. I’d seen a series of strange scars on Mark’s arm. At the time, he’d brushed it off, saying he’d just scraped it. I didn’t think much of it. But now, recalling the image, I realized those marks weren’t from a scrape. They looked like they were carved with a knife. And the shape… it was a spouting whale. A gut feeling told me this could be the real reason for his suicide. I threw my clothes back on and rushed back to the police station. This time, a female officer took my statement. I carefully explained my new theory. After she finished her notes, she took a call, then offered me an apologetic smile. “Ms. Jensen, I’m afraid you’ll have to wait a bit longer. Detective Miles and his team have found a major breakthrough.” Her words made my heart hammer against my ribs. A sense of foreboding washed over me. Half an hour later, Detective Miles returned with several other officers, their coats soaked from the downpour. His eyes immediately locked onto mine. I met his gaze calmly and spoke first. “What did you find, Detective?” Before he could answer, a younger officer next to him gave me a reassuring smile. “We found something that might explain why Mark committed suicide. My colleague said you suspected he might have been involved in one of those ‘Blue Whale’ online groups, the ones that manipulate people into self-harm?” I nodded. He held up a phone. “The M.E.’s report just came in. There are healed scars on Mark’s forearm, consistent with long-term self-injury. We also found this burner phone. Based on the chat logs in this group, it looks like he was being manipulated by this Blue Whale organization, step by step, towards suicide.” “But why?” I asked, confused. “Why would they do that?” The young officer’s voice was filled with disgust. “They’re lunatics. They have this twisted belief that life is suffering and only death can wash away your sins. It’s an illegal cult. They used to target teenagers a few years back, but after a major crackdown, they disappeared. I can’t believe they’re back.” I stared at him, letting it sink in. “So… you’re saying Mark was brainwashed by this group into killing himself?” “Absolutely,” the officer said with conviction. “These people are masters of manipulation.” Hearing that, a wave of relief washed over me. “I hope you catch them all,” I said earnestly. “What they’re doing is monstrous.” But just then, Detective Miles spoke, his voice cutting through the room. “Ms. Jensen, I still think there’s more to Mark’s death.” I turned to him, puzzled. “But you’ve ruled it a suicide, haven’t you?” He looked me straight in the eye. “The Blue Whale challenge has always targeted minors. Mark is the first adult victim we’ve ever seen. Don’t you find that a little strange?” My expression remained perfectly calm. I offered a small smile. “A strong sense of suspicion is a good quality in a detective, I suppose. But like I said before… you need evidence.” With that, I opened my umbrella and stepped out into the storm. The cold rain lashed against my face, the drops stinging my skin. I looked out at the torrential downpour and lowered my eyes. A storm like this could wash away so many things that were never meant to remain. And so could time.