♤PROLOGUE♤
08/10/2013, 8:45 AM
Shadow spire Correctional Facility
Interrogation Room
Chained like a savage beast, they were rendered helpless. Heavy shackles clinked against their legs, chains hung from their waist, and handcuffs dug into their wrists. Outside, police swarmed the building, a gun poised against their temple, a silent promise of violence looming in the air.
Yet, beneath the weight of their restraints, a flicker of indifference danced in their eyes. Nothing mattered anymore. The world had lost its color, its meaning. As the detective stepped into the room and took a seat across from them, the air thickened with unspoken tension.
With a steaming cup of dark coffee cradled in his hands, he crossed one leg over the other, placing the cup on the table as if it were a barrier between them. For the first time in a long while, uncertainty gripped him.
A strange stillness enveloped the room. Every instinct screamed at him to lunge across the table, to reach for the life that pulsed within them. But he fought against it, forcing himself to maintain composure.
Rage simmered beneath the surface, burning bright in his eyes as he leaned closer. “So, you killed those people?”
“Yes!” Their voice sliced through the silence like a knife.
“You tortured them?”
“Of course!”
“Why?”
“What do you mean, why?” they shot back, sarcasm dripping from their words.
“Why did you kill those people?”
“For fun, of course!” They paused, a wicked smirk creeping across their lips. “My first victim? I killed him for personal payback. He had it coming. No, he deserved it.” Their grin widened, a glimmer of satisfaction lighting their eyes. “He could’ve stopped when he had the chance, but he chose not to.”
The detective fought the bile rising in his throat, his pulse quickening. This would be over soon, but the air felt thick and suffocating. He drew in a shaky breath, forcing himself to stay calm as he pressed on.
“But what about the others?”
“When I started this, I only wanted justice for myself,” they said, their tone shifting, almost nostalgic. “But then I found it exhilarating, finishing it faster.” They leaned back, the chains rattling softly. “You know how it feels when you buy a new video game, and you’re so damn good at it? You kick everyone’s ass!”
“They weren’t a video game! They were humans!”
“For me, they were. It was addictive—so damn fun. You should’ve heard their screams; it was a sweet lullaby when sleep wouldn’t come.” They burst into laughter, the sound echoing off the stark walls. “The desperation—the drama! Popcorn, please!”
“You’re sick!”
“Thank you! But, if it’s any consolation, I wanted to stop. I just didn’t have to—there’s a difference.”
“Do you think you did the right thing?”
“Of course! They were animals!” They straightened in their chair, defiantly meeting the detective’s gaze. “They deserved everything that happened to them and more. The fun part? I’m not sorry about it.”
“If you had a chance to relive it again—?”
“I would’ve kept them alive for a month!”
“And what would you have done with them?”
“Tortured them—for an entire month! Every day, every hour, every second! Until their bones turned to ashes.”
Silence enveloped the room like a thick fog. He held their gaze, peering into the abyss that lay within their eyes. It was dark, raw, and utterly unfiltered. They didn’t give a damn at all.
They pointed at the detective’s steaming cup of coffee. “Are you going to finish that or what?”
Ignoring the taunt, he leaned closer, heart pounding in his chest. “What if your accusations against them were false?”
“Then, oops!” A sadistic laugh escaped their lips, a sound that scraped against his sanity.
“Do you feel guilty?”
“Nope, not at all. Why would I be?”
“Answer the goddamn question!”
“No, I don’t feel guilty—actually, I don’t feel anything at all. I’m not here to apologize for my crimes. I did what was right and fair. None of you did anything about the wrongs you all saw! You all pretended not to see, hear, or speak!” They slammed their hand against the table, the sound reverberating in the small room.
“That wasn’t your call to make!”
“IT WAS!”
“But why?”
“The magician never gives away all of his tricks.” They smirked, a glint of mischief in their eyes.
“What the hell does that mean?”
“They were only as good as the world allowed them to be. They were garbage—someone had to take them out.”
“But that wasn’t your decision!”
“That’s the beauty and the benefit of being damaged.”
“Excuse me?”
“When you have nothing—you have nothing left to lose.”
