The room was tightly sealed with soundproof walls. A single, pale yellow light hung from the ceiling, swaying slowly as if breathing wearily.
He awoke with a start, trying to understand what was happening, who we were, and swearing that he had never wronged anyone.
I made them put him back to sleep while we waited for the damned doctor.
Damn it… the thought of killing him raged through my mind like a relentless hurricane. Anger surged in my chest, almost suffocating me, whispering that revenge would bring me relief, that one blow would end all this burning.
But amidst my racing heart and ragged breaths, something else resisted…
A faint voice asked me: What next? Will blood extinguish this fire, or fan it even more?
I stood on the precipice of a dangerous moment, the urge to act impulsively battling the remnants of reason that tried to hold me back before I fell into an irreversible darkness.
I tried to catch my breath and calm myself down.
I called Michael and told him I was with him and if he wanted to come.
He told me to do what i want, but that I had to record everything and make him confess.
After the gang's doctor arrived, I told him I would torture him in the worst way possible, that he had to stay alive, and that I wouldn't show any mercy, so he should prepare himself.
I ordered them to hang him up and leave.
I cut his feet, and he woke up with a jolt of pain, his eyes darting around in the darkness as if he'd just been born into an unknown world. He was breathing rapidly. I let him talk… muttering broken words, swearing he knew nothing, trying to convince me with a voice trembling between fear and denial.
Blood trickled slowly onto the floor, tracing a dark line under the dim light, while I watched in cold silence. I leaned over him and said, without hesitation, that I would drain every last drop from his veins if he didn't confess everything.
At that moment, it wasn't just the fear shining in his eyes… it was the reflection of something else within me, something that began to question whether I truly held the reins, or whether darkness was guiding us both.
The session lasted five hours.
At the end, he died from the shock caused by the surgeon.
I called Michael and told him he had confessed to everything, and what he said matched the report.
He asked me how he died. I told him he regretted being born.
He said, Good. Take care of everything.
I hung up and sat thinking about my next move.
I ordered the men to cut him up, put him in a box, and leave it in front of the minister's office.
It didn't mention anything on the news because he had already covered it up. He knew Michael would rebel and that he was coming.
I called Michael, and his voice sounded tired. I asked him where he was.
He said he was at home.
I went home after finishing all his tasks.
I looked for him, and he was on the bed, clutching her bloody dress. He was asleep, smiling.
He had been dreaming about her.
Damn it. He was happy after all this time.
Why are the Gods so cruel?