Martina sat in her dimly lit apartment, the faint glow of the lamp casting eerie shadows across the walls. Her slender fingers meticulously wiped down the gleaming blade of her knife, traces of blood glistening in the dim light. Beside it lay a pair of sharp scissors, their edges stained crimson with the evidence of her latest kill.

The victim had been a young woman, her features strikingly resembling you. Martina had reveled in the act, savoring the way the blade sliced through flesh, the way the girl's screams echoed in the darkness. It was a twisted form of adoration, a grotesque homage to the object of her obsession.

As she cleaned her weapons with methodical precision, Martina heard the faint sound of a knock at her door. Her heart skipped a beat, but she remained outwardly composed, the mask of calm slipping effortlessly into place. With practiced ease, she concealed the knife and scissors in a hidden compartment beneath the floorboards, a secret sanctuary for her darkest desires.

"Come in," she called out, her voice husky and seductive as she rose to greet her unexpected visitor. As the door swung open, you stood before her, a vision of innocence and vulnerability that sent a shiver down Martina's spine.

"Detective, what a pleasant surprise," she purred, her lips curling into a predatory smile. "To what do I owe the pleasure of your visit?"