⠀⠀⠀| madness °
The evil did not appear in the shape of the worst nightmare, it looked like the most beautiful lie in flesh and blood. As once, he was said to be the favourite of God. At least that was until he lost his mind in madness and fell off his home into the burning fire of the hell.
It was actually a tale told to many, just so the seed of fear could be planted in innocent hearts. It was an excuse to save the child from the sin that spread around the crowd, however, the forbidden only made one more curious than ever. It pulled the innocence away and allowed the boy to meet evil.
“Aren’t you going to talk today as well?”
The raindrops hit the lucent surface of the window with the most horrible sound one could ever hear. Therefore, it also happened to be the only reason for Park Jimin to find himself in front of it, his eyes filled with dull emptiness.
He did not even display the signs of discomfort and just leaned his head against the cold surface, from where he could see the rain clearly. His body warned him about the coldness and sent shivers down his spine, however, neither of those gave enough excuse for Jimin to pull away. He liked the cold weather anyway and that was a much better option than him to face the other men that awaited a reaction from him.
“We don’t have the whole day, child.”
The rough, masculine voice once again echoed in Jimin’s ears, this time with full of rage as well. Such that, it seemed like Jimin’s serenity pushed the other man over the edge and swallowed every calm trait he owned. The more Jimin made them wait, the more annoyed they became.
Therefore, it took only a couple of more minutes for one of them to lose control and despite the protests of his colleagues, walk towards Jimin.
“Look here, you little devil,” the man called as he grabbed each side of the chair and turned it so that he could force Jimin to look at him. “We don’t have all day, so tell me,” said the man as he used a threating tone.
Jimin, on the other hand, just tilted his head front to take a closer look at the man. He still had those dull eyes and soft features, yet there was something about the twenty-year-old lad that made the other’s blood freeze. He seemed way too calm for someone that washed his hands with the blood of the innocent.
“Why did you kill them?
The question was quite easy to answer actually, or probably that was what the police thought when he came to the lunatic asylum to visit Jimin. They just wanted to hear what pulled him into the madness that he did not hesitate to murder his own friends with his bare hands and a sharp knife.
“Why did you kill them, Jimin?”
Jimin did not give them an answer, however, as he just stubbornly embraced his silence and built tall walls around the weakness he tried to hide. He did not mention his fear, did not tell them that even now that he recalled the night he met the evil, he still saw his hands washed by the blood he once called a friend.
“At least tell us your story,” sighed the police at the end as his colleague warned him to not get angry. It was neither the right place nor Jimin was the right person to be able to control through rage anyway.
“Or should I tell you,” added the same man, this time with a venomous sarcasm in his tone as he reached for the file that stood on the table all these time.
He did not blink his eyes or showed a sign of hesitation and instead, just opened the file that was filled with documents and pictures of the tragic murder.
Pair of young dancers were found dead in the studio, cruelly covered by blood. The murderer is their supposed to be best friend.
“You visited the studio at ten AM in the morning and stayed for nine hours there. Victim, Hoseok arrived just minutes before your arrival and left an hour after you did.”
The man began to read the file as if Jimin was not aware of what he did or where he was. Then again, maybe he indeed did not know because it had been awhile that Jimin fell into an endless hole of the time and still did not hit the ground.
“Then you came back at the middle of the night, stayed there for an hour or maybe called the other two with an excuse,” added the policeman before he pulled the pair of pictures of Jimin’s friends, who lied on the ground, lifeless. “How long did you plan all of these?”
Jimin did not part his eyes from the pair of pictures that were thrown over the table. Instead, he locked his gaze on them and looked how different his friends looked, covered by their own blood. He knew that police by then expected him to say anything; maybe begged them to hide the pictures or forgive him for what he did.
Either way, it was right to say that they failed to hear such a comment from Jimin, who just looked at those pictures with such a gaze that one would think he wished to swallow all details in his mind. He did not flinch, did not break his gaze away and just looked at the tragedy he created with his own hands.
“So?”
The police man once again began to lose his patience, which Jimin did not even seem to be bothered about. As he allowed every single question to echo through the room and left each of them without a clear explanation.
What was there to say anyway? Especially when people watched a couple of camera records and came to the conclusion that Jimin was the artist behind the art made with blood, sweat and tears.
They believed in what they saw anyway, did not question it. A criminal was needed and Jimin was chosen as the one.
However, no one knew that he was not alone there. No one saw the people he did as they were believed to exist only in his mind. An imagination that Jimin created, just so he could find an excuse for his sin and avoid the punishment.
Then again, maybe it was because that neither of them noticed a dark room with little air and food was still a better option than the cell Jimin locked himself in his mind. As there only existed loud voices that talked about everything he heard and everything he wished to not hear. The same voices that hunted him slowly and painfully.
Who in the world am I? Ah, that’s the great puzzle. Curiouser and curiouser!
“You probably don’t even regret what you did,” said the other man suddenly as he successfully pulled Jimin out of his bubble of thoughts and reminded the real world that awaited him outside of it.
“Is that why you’re not telling us?” the same question was repeated right after.
“Why did you kill Alice, Jimin?”
This time Jimin actually tilted his head up and allowed a sick, tiny smirk claim a spot at the right corner of his plump lips. He allowed the angelic innocence to be replaced by a sinner and this time actually talked. Maybe for the first time ever since the police visited him in his room.
“You mean why did we kill her?” he asked and tilted his head to the side like a little child.
His eyes had the glint of amusement when Jimin caught the way police flinched under his gaze. Maybe because he no longer knew who talked to him or maybe because he finally saw what a fallen angel looked like.
Then the answer came out;
“Because...why not?”
