MEXICO CITY (WHERE THE DEVIL IS ON THE LOOSE).– Oh my! My dear friends who love the morbid and the uncensored truth, if you were among those who felt a pit in your stomach yesterday when you saw that image with the cut-off text circulating, let me tell you, you weren’t the only ones. The gossip spread like wildfire in your aunt’s WhatsApp groups, on Facebook, and even on TikTok. Everyone was asking, “Who was the scoundrel?”
The image was simple yet devastating: a blurry photo of a stunningly beautiful, vibrant young woman, and below it, the deadly caption: “Young woman dies at the hands of her…See more .” That damned “See more” became the gateway to the hell that Brenda “N” experienced, a young woman of just 24 years old who had her whole life ahead of her and who ended up on a cold slab in the morgue for trusting the wrong person.
We, who don’t shy away from the details and get right to the heart of the story, investigated thoroughly to bring you the real deal. And brace yourselves, because if you thought this was just another case of domestic violence, you’re very wrong. Things are much more serious and reek of sulfur.
To understand the magnitude of this tragedy, you have to know who the victim was. Brenda wasn’t just another statistic in this blood-soaked country. She was the cool neighbor who always said hi, the graphic design student who worked her fingers to the bone at a coffee shop to pay for her studies, the loyal friend who always had some advice.
She lived in a working-class neighborhood, one of those where people work hard. Brenda dreamed of being a fashion influencer; she loved makeup and was always well-groomed, even though she didn’t have much money. But, as happens to many of us, life got complicated.
Rumor has it that Brenda was feeling down. Her boyfriend, a guy named “Brayan” (you can imagine what kind of character he is), had dumped her for someone else, and to top it all off, she’d lost her job. Brenda was desperate, feeling like the world was closing in on her and that she was under a terrible curse. And that, my friends, is where the real villain of this horror story comes in.
Desperate for a quick solution to her problems, Brenda started looking for help in shady places. A “friend” (one of those you’re better off not having) recommended a guy. He wasn’t a psychologist, he wasn’t a priest, not at all!
He was one of those charlatans who advertise on lampposts with fluorescent signs: “Love spells performed, curses removed, loved ones brought to you on their knees and humiliated.” A self-proclaimed “Master of the Occult,” a “High Warlock” from Catemaco Region 4, who operated out of a damp, smelly little room on the outskirts of the city, filled with votive candles, upside-down saints, and the scent of strange herbs.
Brenda, in her naiveté and desperation, fell for it hook, line, and sinker. She went to see him. The guy, a fat man in his fifties with fake gold rings on every finger and a gaze that could undress you, charmed her with his cheap smooth talk. He told her that someone had put a really strong “black magic” on her, that she had a dead person attached to her back, and that if she didn’t get a “deep cleansing” done urgently, her life was going to be ruined.
Fear is the best business for these con artists! Brenda took out her meager savings, borrowed money, and even sold her cell phone to pay for the sessions.
Here’s where it gets ugly, folks. If you have a weak stomach, you’d better skip this paragraph.
The fateful appointment was Tuesday night. The “Master” told Brenda that the last session had to be special. A “ritual of liberation and rebirth” to cut off all the bad vibes. The condition: she had to go alone, without her cell phone, and wearing white.
No one knows exactly what happened within those four walls of horror during the following hours. Neighbors say they heard strange chanting, drumming, and later, muffled screams that they mistook for someone being drunk.
But the reality was Dantesque.
According to the first expert reports leaked to this newsroom (because we have ears everywhere here), the so-called “ritual” got out of control. The guy, probably high on some substance or drunk with power, overpowered Brenda.
What was supposed to be a cleansing ritual turned into a torture session. There were beatings. There was extreme violence. Traces of strange concoctions he forced her to drink were found. The room was in complete disarray, as if a hurricane had swept through. Brenda fought for her life; there are defensive wounds on her arms, but the “jackal” was stronger and more insane than she was.
In the end, the cause of death was brutal and merciless: mechanical asphyxiation. The coward strangled her with his own hands, those same hands with which he promised to heal her soul.