It was a crisp early morning when Matamis, a well loved transgender man in Bantayan, walked the familiar path to the public cemetery. He carried a small candle, his daily offering to honor his late grandfather, whom he often credited as his source of strength. The streets were eerily quiet, the faint chirping of crickets the only sound accompanying his steps.
As he reached the cemetery's rusted iron gate, something caught his eye a shape on the ground, lying just inside the entrance. At first, he thought it was a bundle of rags discarded by someone too lazy to walk further into the cemetery. But as he got closer, dread tightened his chest. It wasn't rags,
it was a body.
Matamis froze, his candle slipping from his trembling hands. The body was that of a teenage girl, her school uniform dirtied and torn. Bruises and shallow cuts marred her pale skin, and her long hair was tangled and streaked with blood. In her hair, a plastic ID card was partially visible. Matamis's knees buckled as he forced himself to kneel beside her. He didn't need to check for a pulse to know she was gone.
Sgt. Alvaro Morales arrived minutes later, his unmarked car pulling up silently to avoid drawing attention. Matamis sat on a nearby bench, pale and visibly shaken as he recounted what had happened.
"I I just wanted to light a candle for Lolo. Then I saw her, lying there…" Matamis's voice cracked.
"She's so young. Who could do this?"
Sgt. Morales crouched near the body, careful not to disturb the scene. His experienced eyes scanned for clues. The injuries mirrored those of the first and the second victim, whose body had been found weeks earlier in the plaza and in the town pier: Her legs and arms were bound behind her back with a thin, nylon rope, and her clothes were torn indication she was raped, ligature marks on the neck, and cuts across the arms, likely inflicted to torment. And a deep wound on her left shoulder.
The detective carefully removed the ID card entangled in the girl's hair. It read: Laura Sanjorjo, Atop Atop Bantayan Cebu.
"Another teenager," he muttered grimly.
His stomach churned as he realized that whoever this predator was, they were escalating.
He turned to one of his officers.
"Contact her family in Atop-Atop. They need to know."
The discovery, again sent shockwaves through the island of Bantayan. With a third victim found, panic gripped the communities. Parents, terrified for their children's safety, demanded answers.
The mayor called for an emergency meeting at the town hall, where tempers flared.
"This is the third teenager in less than a month!" a mother cried out.
"What are you doing to stop this?"
"We're implementing a curfew," the mayor declared, his voice strained but resolute. "Starting tonight, all teenagers are to remain indoors from 6 PM to 4 AM. We will also increase police patrols in public areas."
But the announcement did little to calm the crowd. Fear hung heavy in the air, and whispers of a serial killer began to circulate.
Back at the crime scene, Sgt. Morales continued to piece together the evidence. The location was deliberate: the entrance of the cemetery, a place associated with death and mourning. This killer wasn't just taking lives; he was sending a message.
The detective thought about the similarities between the three victims: they were young, females, and found in highly visible public locations. The killer wanted his work to be discovered, to provoke fear and chaos.
For the residents of Bantayan, life changed overnight. The once vibrant plaza now emptied by sundown, and the streets that had once buzzed with life were now silent and foreboding.
Matamis, though deeply affected by his discovery, threw himself into helping the community. He joined neighborhood watch groups and even organized nightly patrols near the market and plaza.
"We can't just live in fear," he told his neighbors.
"We need to stand together."
But even with their efforts, a dark cloud loomed over Bantayan. For every parent who locked their door at 6 PM, there was a nagging fear that it wouldn't be enough.
In his office, Sgt. Morales studied a map pinned to the wall. It was marked with the locations where the bodies had been found the plaza, the pier, and now the cemetery. He traced a line connecting them, trying to find a pattern.
The killer was careful, but Sgt. Morales knew he couldn't hide forever.
"He's slipping," Sgt. Morales murmured.
"Leaving her ID?
That wasn't planned. It's only a matter of time before he makes a bigger mistake."
But time was running out.
The killer was growing bolder, and the fear that there could be a fourth victim loomed large over the town boundaries.
For Bantayan, the once idyllic town now felt like a prison, its residents trapped by an unseen predator who thrived and lurking in the shadows.