I decided to go away from the Psychopathic-esque stories and try something else that's more lovey. However, I'd really like some CnC on it because I'm quite iffy about it myself, and want to know how I can make it better.
Also, I've been making this for a few weeks so I didn't just do this all at once.
Spoiler for Prologue:
The interrogation room in the police station was dimly lit by the overhead light that continuously swayed from side to side with seemingly no motive behind it doing so. The walls looked as though they were smooth, like granite. The male knew that the floor was concrete, based on the fact that he was barefoot and he could feel the ice cold texture on the soles of his feet. The chilling draft in the small room went through the rips and tears of the male’s shirt. His hands were behind his back and cuffed as he sat upright in the old wooden chair. They were told the male was far too dangerous to be left with his hands free. His jeans were intact, although the knees had brown stains from the dirt. His head was down, so that only his deep black hair could be seen.
He sat in front of a moderately sized mahogany table, void of any clutter. There was an empty chair opposite of him, and at the far wall was a one sided window, where members of the police were taking turns looking at him.
“So that’s the guy?” One of them asked the special investigator, who to this point had been silently watching the male’s movement.
“Yes,” The investigator replied simply, “That’s him.”
“He’s been wanted for years, but nobody could ever find him,” The rookie police officer continued, “They called him ‘The Ghostly Figure’.”
“Oh shut your god damn mouth, rookie,” The investigator snapped, glaring at the rookie and then the growing crowd, “Go back to your work, all of you!”
All of the officers who had been watching the male inside jumped in fear and scurried off back to their posts without another word. The authority of the special investigator was evident. But it was not out of respect. It was out of fear. A man who had been in the deep forests of Vietnam, with more battle scars than one can count, now a veteran investigator who had no issue with smacking around criminals, or even some of the officers if they were incompetent enough. That was enough to fear him.
“Insolent fools,” He muttered, his eyes moving back to the male behind the window. He hadn’t moved at all. He had just been sitting there, his head down. For some reason unbeknownst to him, the fact that he was doing absolutely nothing was an annoyance to him. He finally decided that it was about time to ask him what the hell happened.
He walked to the door of the room, pushing the key into the door. The once silent interrogation room was filled with the sound of the door being unlocked, followed by the investigator swinging it open. He stepped inside quietly, before closing the door behind him, locking it, and sticking the key in his front pocket. He walked confidently to the male that sat before him, sitting down in the wooden chair that was previously vacant.
The investigator had his best poker face on. There was no indication to his emotion based on his expression. His cold and calculating brown hues analyzed the male who had been on the wanted list for years. His gray and thinning hair, accompanied with the wrinkles on his skin was a clear sign that he was aging. While he never disclosed his age to anybody in the police force, he had to be at least in his sixties.
His cold eyes squinted as silence once again befell the room. It was not the silence like before. Before, it was a cold and lonely silence. The silence of someone who had been broken and battered. This silence, was tense. A quiet battle of who would speak first. And the investigator lost.
“So,” He began, his voice booming and echoing off the walls, “I’m not going to be calling you ‘The Ghostly Figure’ the whole time. I’m going to use your real name. Logan”
His ears twitched at the sound of his name. There was only one other person who had called him by his real name recently; and she was dead now. Knowing that, he did not adore another person allowing his real name to come out of their mouth. However, he continued the silent routine anyway.
“So, Logan,” He continued, his voice as cold as the room itself, “How about you tell me what happened on June 12th, 2014? Or rather, every other murder you’re being held accountable for.”
Silence. Logan kept his head down. He didn’t feel like speaking about what had happened, especially not to somebody like him. A man who’s mental stability had been beaten and battered to the point that his emotions had been sucked out of him, as well as his common courtesy. He didn’t deserve to know the truth of the matter. He would not believe anyway.
However, the investigator was persistent. He leaned over the desk, his hands slamming against the edges of the table. “Logan, do not make me get angry. What. Happened. On June 12th.”
“What happened to Kacy!”
His ears twitched once more, at the sound of her name. He had no business calling her by her name. A smirk curled on the investigator’s face as he realized that he was beginning to anger the male in front of him.
“Come on, hot shot,” He slammed his hands against the table once more, “You gonna tell me what happened?”
A few more moments of silence. The investigator was about to speak up once more, before Logan lifted his head up, his glance befalling on the aging man. For the first time, his face was clearly seen.
His lips were contorted into a slight frown, although the level of his anger and resentment could not be transferred into one facial expression. His eyes were a sea green, glimmering even against the dim light hanging above the two males. His complexion was stunning, his face vacant of acne or blemishes, aside from the man-made wounds on his tanned skin. His face was covered in deep cuts and dried blood, along with various bruises.
When he opened his mouth to speak, his voice was almost intoxicating. It was deep, but not booming like the other males. However, the way he talked could tell the story that he felt as though he was an authority figure as well.
“So, you want to know what happened?” He began, his voice calm, but with an undertone of quiet rage.
“Well then let me start at the beginning”
Spoiler for Chapter 1:
I guess I don’t really have to go through my tedious childhood with you, now do I? It was rather average, to say the least. I didn’t kill animals in the bathroom and show sociopath tendencies like you people want to believe. Nothing out of the blue happened. At all. It wasn’t until I was older that I realized what type of power I had.
I had just turned eighteen years old. I was getting ready to head off to college. My bags were packed, I had said goodbye to everybody. My mother, who was in her fifties at the time, was ready to see me off as I headed into the world on my own. I hugged her tightly in my arms.
And then it happened.
A vision, it must have been. I suddenly stopped in my tracks, as I saw the event unfold before my eyes. My mother, being attacked from behind by an unknown assailant. Stabbed in the back with a sharpened knife. My mother had a past of moving cocaine and various other drugs for gangs back in North Carolina, and apparently some rival gang members finally had caught up with her. The unknown assailant stabbed her multiple times, before kicking her into my body, as I hit the ground with her on top of me. Blood dripped all over my body as she had been stabbed in the majority of her vital areas. She was already dead.
With the snap of a finger, I was sent back to reality. She wasn’t dead. She had pulled away from me, looking at me and silently wondering what was wrong. I was relieved, but only for a moment. I saw the same masked assailant, coming up behind her. I tried to stop it. Tried to pull her away. But it was too late. The same event that had occurred in my vision happened the exact same way. I watched as the male ran off through the back door, dropping the knife next to us as he sprinted into the forest. After the paralysis due to fear had ceased, I rolled out from under my mother, now drenched in her own, crimson blood.
I glanced over at my mother. Her body unmoving. Her eyes were glossy. I could see the stab wounds on her back. There had to be at least fifteen of them, oozing out blood as it pooled around her. There was my mother, a kind and gentle woman with a checkered past. She made up for it over the course of the eighteen years of my life. She didn’t deserve such a fate. But there she was now, dead. It felt like an eternity, that I sat on the ground, hands to my face, tears rolling down. I wasn’t only grieving for my mother, traumatized that she had been killed before my very eyes. I was fearful. Fearful of what I had. It was different than only a few minutes ago. I felt as though there was…much more power coursing through my veins. How was I able to see her death? It was like déjà vu. I saw this wrongful death occur only moments before it actually did. I saw it, and it was so clear. Now I felt like a completely different person.
I must have lost track of time. I could hear the police sirens at the front of my house. I imagine with both the front and back door wide open, and the screams from my mother before her death tipped people off that something bad was going on. I was broken from my massive daydream, and looked around. I slowly came to the realization that I did not look in a keen position. Blood was all over my body, my clothes. And there was a kitchen knife next to my foot. I tried to get up and leave as quickly as I could. It was too late. They had opened the door. Saw me running away. My father was there too, having come home early from work after the police called him. He was shocked to see me running out the back door with blood all over me, as police chased after me. I never had a problem. Not with school, with life, with anything else. The fact that I had murdered my own mother in cold blood was too much for him to bear. The officers, not knowing of her past, figured that because I had ran, that I was the culprit of this heinous action. Maybe my father knew in his heart that I wasn’t the culprit, but he was too broken to realize it. I had to go on the run. I could no longer be seen by anybody. For I was a wanted man.
Over the years, I had gotten good at stealth. The first couple of months I was seen by multiple people, and they called the police officers. I had almost slipped up and been caught by them too many times. It was mostly because my ability to see when people were going to perish got me into very bad situations. I would try to save them, only to be seen looking like I had committed yet another murder. But…it wasn’t me.
But, after a while of being on the run, I got better at hiding. At keeping myself incognito as I walked through the streets. I got good at it to the point that if someone were to see me one moment, and go to call the police officers, the next moment they would glance over and see me gone. That was how I garnered the name “The Ghostly Figure”. Because I was really like a ghost. Crossing the states unnoticed. Going through the U.S.A without being noticed. As my ability at stealth grew drastically, so did my abilities. If I even glanced at a person for too long, I could witness the exact date and time of which they would die, and envision how. Sometimes if the date was close to the present, I would stick around and steal a local newspaper on that date to see if I was right. To this day, I can’t believe I was right every single time. It was only every once in a blue moon I tried to help somebody, on the odd notion that maybe, just maybe, this one wouldn’t back fire on me. Of course, it did. Every single time.
By the age of 26, I was more than used to the life I had been dealt. However due to me consistently helping people, the police still were constantly looking for me. People would see me and call the police. They would come, and I would be gone. I couldn’t slip up anymore, for they were prepared to take me dead or alive for the “crimes” I had committed. I was so used to this life, that I began to imagine myself doing this until the day I die. T
he funny thing was, I really didn’t give a fuck. My morality and optimism was gone. It was like I expected to be lonely all my life.
It wasn’t until one day, April 11th, 2014, that I changed my views. It was a moonlit night, and I was walking through a back road trail of West Virginia. Even with everything that had happened to me over the past eight years of my adult life, I still sometimes enjoyed going through a trail. Looking up at the rustling trees as the moonlight peered through them to give me light. The faint noises of owls, night birds and other nocturnal animals. It was very soothing, and fitting for a quiet night such as this. I was so intoxicated by the beautiful night, that I didn’t realize where I was walking. I bumped into a figure, causing it to fall down with an oof.
“Oh! I’m sorry” I said. I looked down at the ground and quickly helped the person up, not wanting for them to see my face and recognize me. The face was illuminated by the night sky. It was a woman. A beautiful woman. Unblemished face, light blue eyes with cinnamon brown hair, accompanied with a pair of thick glasses. “
“It’s okay,” She replied, her shy and nervous voice somehow intoxicating me. It was the first time in a long time where my heart began to pound, and my stomach was tied in knots.
“I’m Kacy”
Spoiler for Chapter 2:
She was absolutely stunning.
As the light of the moon illuminated further, I saw her faded blue jeans, and her loose shirt with the letters washed away. Her cinnamon brown hair was messy and at her shoulders. Her blue eyes twinkled like the ocean. She was like an average every day country girl. Beautiful, and not prim and proper. Except this beauty was multiplied by a hundred.
She seemed to be just as dumbfounded as I was as she looked me up and down. However it wasn’t any fearful bewilderment as if she had recognized me yet. She was just…staring at my body. I guess anybody who had recognized who I was, never took the time to look at my body before they called the police. My T-shirt was tight against my torso, but I had intentionally ripped the sleeves off to make it more of a tank top. I guess my abdomen WAS something to look at. Rock hard abs, and pretty appealing biceps. My jet black medium length hair and sea green eyes seemed to make me a bit of a stud too.
Kacy soon regained her composure and looked at me, which was when I noticed her flushed cheeks. “I like to walk around here at night…y’know, to get a feel of the nature around here. I never see anybody else around here.”
I smiled in response, my face still turned slightly away from hers. “I’m not a commoner. Just…wandering around.”
Her face contorted into one of concern. “Where do you live?” she asked.
I chuckled at the thought of even living somewhere, “Nowhere.”
“Nowhere? You just walk around with no home? When’s the last time you’ve even eaten something healthy?”
I was silent, and my shoulders slumped. It was in that moment that I realized it had been years since I actually had a home. It had been years since I ate something that wasn’t a bundle of plants that could quite possibly be poisonous. Or a bunch of bugs out of tree bark. Or some random animal that I cook on the fire and hope I don’t get worms or parasites from it. I really was an unhealthy man.
The female smiled genuinely and pulled on my tight tank top, snapping me from my daze. “Come on, I’ll give you some quality food, a shower, and a change of clothes.”
I didn’t really have much of a say in the situation at this point, and with a feigned sigh, I followed her through the winding back roads, and to her home.
***
The house was rather large in size. She had told me it was a three bedroom two-story house, with a bathroom both upstairs and downstairs, accompanied with a large kitchen, dining and living room. What was odd to me was she was the only one living in this house. The nearest neighbor was at least a half-mile away from her home, meaning she was in complete solitude. Her home was surrounded by a large field and woods all around, with the exception of the back road. It was a beautiful house that nobody else got to see.
It’s also upsetting that nobody is here to taste her cooking. My god, it was simply amazing. The gargantuan turkey accompanied with the mashed potatoes, rolls, and green beans was astonishing. It was the first time I had been truly full to the point of popping in a very long time. She also let me have my first hot shower in years, and gave me a brand new loose-fitting T-shirt and some jeans that were intact, not ripped up and sullied with dirt stains. She said they were her brother’s clothes before he moved out two years ago. I felt like I was a guest at a hotel or something, I was being treated so well.
I had come downstairs after my shower, changed and hair still damp from the violent water droplets, and she was sitting on the couch watching television. How she got reception this far from civilization was beyond me. I sat on the other side of the couch, and she scooted closer to me. I almost walked away out of instinct, but I quelled said instinct and just let it happen.
It was that night where the both of us fell asleep on the couch with the television on. We had both fallen asleep on each other, which was sort of comical when we woke up and both jumped. After that night, I decided I would stay and live there, as well as keep her company. Odd, the Ghostly Figure staying in one spot. However she didn’t know it was me, probably because nobody had ever been able to pinpoint my exact features, much less get a picture of me. Plus, it was nice, being in a home again.
As the weeks passed on, she and I gradually grew closer to one another. We would spend time talking until the sun rose up from the trees to greet us. She rarely slept in her bed, now opting to sleep on the couch alongside with myself. Our friendship continued to blossom, until one day we decided to take it to the conceptual next level.
She had walked in to the bathroom to drop my new set of clothes off just as I had stepped out of the shower. The mist didn’t do much to cover me, so she pretty much had seen everything. We both exchanged constant apologies, which lead to us having an awkward moment as we sat on the couch later on. Soon after, she admitted to me that she liked how I looked without any clothes on. Actually, she liked me in general.
Long story short, the night had ended with her asleep in my arms, our naked bodies intertwined with one another as the night came to an end. That was when the friendship blossomed into something beautiful. For we both felt the same the moment we met one another on that trail. Our hearts pounded. Our stomachs were tied in continuous knots. Heads blurred. It was like we were both high school kids again. To be with her, made me feel as though I was a human again. That I wasn’t this man on the run, with an irrational power that even I could not yet figure out. To be in her arms, made me feel like I wasn’t such a monster after all.
It wasn’t long before it all crashed and burned, however.
She was cooking something on the pot in the kitchen, and I was on the couch, watching her from afar. Even if she was only in a long shirt that could be classified as a glorified nightgown and in a pair of underwear, with a messy bun and no attempt at looking good on this particular day, she always caught my eye as a beautiful woman. Someone I adored just looking at.
She was just finishing up whatever was in the pot, before she turned to me. “Honey, I made your favorite!” She called.
I looked over at her and my lips curled into a smile. “Oh wow, reall-”
I stopped. My eyes widened with fear as my mouth went agape. I had done something that I somehow managed to not do the whole time that we were living together. Done something that would destroy the temporary veil of sanity I had created for myself. I did what I never wanted to do, because I never wanted to see what I was about to see.
I looked…into her eyes.
Spoiler for Chapter 3:
I froze up, utterly paralyzed in fear. The vision hit me like a battering ram to the torso. The breath exited out of my lungs as I saw the various images. The house, in a flurry of orange hued flames. Firemen, unable to put the home out as it crumbled to rubble. Kacy, simply a charred corpse on the ground. I watched as the doctors ran over to her, calling her time of death the moment they saw her. Her delicate, light blue eyes was the only part of her body that was intact. Tears. Tears rolled down her burnt face, before she finally went limp, and the eyes glossed over. However, I couldn’t see the date. With every other person I was able to see the exact date and time. With her, it was a mystery.
Just as fast as the vision came, I was taken out of it. My mind came back to reality, and Kacy was on top of me, attempting to shake me out of my daze. By the burnt smell that elicited from the kitchen, she must have kept whatever was cooking on to come see what was going on with me. The look of concern in her eyes, and her screams to try to make me come to…for that split second, I was actually happy. It’s odd, when I had just seen the love of my life’s death before my eyes. But, for that second, I realized that she cared enough about me to drop whatever she was doing and make sure I was alright. She was so concerned, so worried about me. Nobody had ever been that way with me.
I groaned to make it known that I was out of whatever daze she thought I was in. “How…Long was I out?”
She let an exasperated sigh of relief escape from her soft lips. “A few minutes….Logan what happened?”
I visibly gulped at the question. I didn’t want to lie to her, but I also was terrified to tell her the truth about me. The fact that she hadn’t realized yet was thanks only to my stealth and the fact that nobody has truly seen me. Telling her who and what I was accused of being might turn her away from me. It might…make her kick me out. On the flip side, if I lied to her now and she found out later on in life, it would ruin everything. No, I had to tell her the truth now.
She got up from atop of my body and sat down next to me, bringing her hand to mine and intertwining them. She squeezed.
I sighed and spoke slowly, “Kacy…I know you don’t watch the news very much…But, you know of the ‘Ghostly Figure’, right? The one that had supposedly crossed through the U.S., killing people?”
Kacy nodded slowly, her face expressing the growing curiosity she had.
A deep frown was plastered on my face as my gaze fell to my feet. I let out a loud, long sigh. “Well…I’m the Ghostly Figure.”
Her eyes looked as though they were about to pop out of their sockets, and her mouth hung agape for a moment. Once she regained her composure, she began shaking her hand. She stood up from the couch and began to back up from me. “No…No it can’t be. Your lying”
I got up and stood erect opposite of her, and she began to back away further, clearly frightened of me now. “No, I‘m telling the truth…No, Kacy, But I didn’t murder all of those people! I have this…power.”
She shook her head rapidly, and when I tried to walk closer to her frame, she outstretched her hands and pushed me back near the couch. Tears were rolling down her face. “What other lies are you going to tell me?!”
“No..No I’m telling you the truth! I can…I can see when people are going to die. Those ‘murders’ that I committed were only me being at the wrong place at the wrong time!”
“LIAR!” She backed into the back wall of the living room, the tears now flowing like her eyes were two faucets, “Don’t come any closer!”
“Kacy…Baby please, think about what we have!”
“I don’t KNOW what we have anymore Logan! I thought I knew you! I thought..I thought I loved you.”
I had to fight back the tears that were beginning to well in my eyes. Thought she loved me? What the hell did she mean by that?! “Kacy…You know that you DO love me.”
Realizing that I was no longer attempting to come any closer, she crossed her arms, and looked down at the ground. We were face to face, only a few feet away from each other, and she couldn’t even meet my eyes. Frankly, neither could I at this point. “I do love what I thought was you….I don’t know if I love the Ghostly Figure..”
Her words were like daggers, digging their way deep into my heart, shattering it into pieces. I had never felt the beautiful feeling of love until I had first met her, and I had never felt the pain of heartbreak until that moment.
“Kacy…Baby…”
I stopped, for the second time in ten minutes. Kacy clicked her tongue. In her mind, I was probably just trying to convince her of my abilities by becoming “paralyzed” once again. However, that wasn’t why I had stopped. I heard something. It sounded like a bunch of cars stopping. I couldn’t tell, because the curtains were closed and the sun had already set. Night had fallen. But when I heard the noise of car doors being closed, my eyes widened.
I’m not sure if it was out of instinct of being on the run for years, adrenaline, or both. But the moment I heard the car doors be slammed shut, I took no chances. I ducked to the ground as quickly as I could. In that same moment, I heard the window just behind me break, and a bullet dig into something. When my eyes darted forward, Kacy had just started falling to the ground. They had shot her when they expected to shoot me. When that had finally sunk in, my eyes widened.
“KACY!” I roared to nobody in particular as her body crumpled to the ground. Time slowed, as I watch her completely fall to the ground and writhe in pain. My emotions were overtaking me, leading me to think asinine thoughts. She could not die. No, not like this. Not this way. Not because of him. As time came back, It was then that a flurry of bullets began to go through all of the glass windows, showering the back walls and television with lead. No longer caring due to the love of my life being hurt, I crawled over to her as quickly as I could. I then sat up, ignoring the atrocious smell of burning food and the ear piercing sounds of gunpowder exploding and bullets hitting the wall above me. I cradled her body in my arms, looking into her delicate blue eyes. They looked tired. Ready to sleep. But I wasn’t ready to let that happen. I couldn’t let that happen.
“Kacy…Kacy honey, speak to me,” I said frantically, shaking her in my grasp.
“Logan…” She replied quietly. I looked down from her eyes to her body, looking for the bullet wound. My stomach dropped as I realized that the bullet had dug into her chest. It looked like it went into her heart. This theory was only intensified when she coughed up blood after speaking my name. It didn’t seem like she was going to live much longer.
“Kacy, baby, you have to stay with me okay?”
A faint smile crossed her expression as the flurry of bullets continued it’s onslaught, destroying the wall I leaned against, but not managing to graze me once. “You know…I’m not going to live. And…you know their here for you. Go. Run out of the back door. Leave me.”
“No!” I replied quickly, shaking my head along with my answer, “I’m not going to leave you like this, Kacy. You just need to STAY WITH ME.”
She shook her head slowly, as if it pained her to do so. “Logan….I’m dying. You just…,” She went into a coughing fit, crimson blood spurting from her mouth and staining the hardwood floor as she coughed like an old woman on the verge of death. I was paying so much attention to her, I didn’t even realize the shooting had stopped. I hadn’t even realized that the pot of food was now in flames, spreading to the stove it was on. It would soon spread to the kitchen, if nobody tended to the flame soon. “You just have to leave…Logan, I love you. Go.”
Hearing her say “I love you” to me, was bittersweet. It was sweet because I now had confirmation that, even though she knew who I was and what I was being accused of every day, she still loved me, no matter what. The bitter aspect was that it sounded like a final goodbye. I knew she was going to die just as much as her, deep down. But I was in denial.
After she had spoken that last word, our front door was rammed open, destroying the lock and taking the wooden door off of one of it’s hinges. Fully armed S.W.A.T men flooded into the home, at least thirty of them clad in the best armor and weapons the police station could give. The way they didn’t shoot me right then, told me they wanted me alive, and that they knew I would dodge the warning bullets. My sea green hues widened as I glared at them, and had no time to react as they yanked me away from Kacy’s dying self. As one attempted to pull me away from her, I growled and kicked him in the side of the head. Once he let go, I ran off, managing to make it out front to the dirt and grass.
Unfortunately, even in their armor, they were much faster than me. They caught up to me within seconds and at least ten of them tackled me to the ground as if I was a quarterback and they were the linebacker. All of the air left my chest as their weights piled onto me, likely breaking a few of my ribs. I tried my best to squirm out of their grasp, but just because I had a super power, didn’t mean I had super strength. For the most part, I was just as human as everybody else.
One of the SWAT members handcuffed me tightly, before all but one stood up. The lone person lifted me up to my feet.
“Try to run off, and we’ll just capture you again. There’s no point.”
He then turned to one of the men. “A few of you go to that girl, and call the fire department too. There’s a big fire in there.”
I looked over my shoulder at the house. The windows were glowing a deep orange-red color, as the fire began to make it’s way around the house. Somewhere in my heart, I knew that the house would crumble. Because I saw it. In my vision. I didn’t realize that Kacy would die so quickly after I had seen it. Maybe…Maybe I could have prepared if I had seen it sooner.
In all of my emotional distress, I once again attempted to run for the woods to the side of them. However, the SWAT member had just turned his head to me when I began to run, and he brought his large hand down on the top of my head. The forceful impact immediately knocked me unconscious, and I crumpled to the ground. I still don’t know how they found me, and frankly, I don’t think I ever WILL have the pleasure of knowing such a thing. The last thing I heard was them reading me rights. The last thing I smelled was a burning fire. And the last thing I saw was the house up in complete flames.
Spoiler for Chapter 4:
“And, now we’re here, Mr. Investigator,” Logan finished, his eyes glaring at the aging man at the opposite end of the mahogany table.
The male hadn’t spoken for the entirety of Logan’s long, drawn out story. He only listened to the man he was interrogating, and now was taking in everything he had said. Powers to see death? What was this, Final Destination? This couldn’t be right. He was just a cold blooded murderer, and a pretty good liar. Yeah, that’s what it was. There was no way he was just at the wrong place at the wrong time, for every murder committed under his name. It was completely impossible.
Logan seemed to note the investigator’s lack of belief, and craned his neck forward. “Do you…Think I’m a liar, Investigator?”
He stared at Logan, his expression changing into a frown. His hand reached up to run through his graying hair. “Son, I was in Vietnam. I’ve seen a lot of crazy shit. Done a lot of crazy shit. But what you’re proposing is fucking impossible.” He replied in as calm of a voice as he could muster.
Logan’s lips curled into a slight smirk, and he scoffed in response. “How the hell could I come up with such a complex lie, mate?”
“How the hell did you manage to not be seen by anybody for eight years?”
His eyes narrowed, but his smirk stayed, unmoving. “Touché.”
The investigator let out an exasperated sigh. He didn’t expect to be in this interrogation room for as long as he had been. An hour, he’s been sitting here listening to this psychopath ramble on about his magical powers and why they made him innocent on all counts. He needed to get home, put some coffee on, and go the fuck to bed, after hearing the bullshit coming out of this fucker’s mouth.
He leaned back against his small wooden chair, pushing it until it was only on two legs. A habit, it was. “Here’s how I see it Logan. You, sir, are lying through your god damn teeth. In my eyes, you’re guilty on all counts. In my eyes, you killed Kacy Grimes. Not a stray bullet.”
His long staying smirk transformed into a deep frown at the accusation, and a small snarl escaped from his lips. “Now you and I both know that is a lie. You can accuse me of killing everybody else, but YOU KNOW that they killed her, NOT me.”
The investigator let a small chuckle escape from his lips, “And who are they going to believe, Logan? Me, a Vietnam veteran and decorated police investigator? Or you, a serial killer who‘s barely 26?”
At this point, the male was beginning to seeth with anger at just how corrupt this motherfucker was. He was going to let Logan rot in jail for not only the murders that they think he committed, but the murder that they KNOW he DIDN’T commit. Yet, this guy was perfectly fine with it. It didn’t phase him one fucking bit.
He let out a loud yawn and stretched his arms up and over his head. He then stood up from his chair, neatly pushing it in as he looked at Logan ,nodding to him. “Well, I have to get home and get some sleep. It was absolutely fabulous talking to you, Logan.”
He chuckled once again before turning and walking towards the door, almost with a skip in his step. In times like these, where he could make somebody’s life as miserable as his was in the war, he loves his job as a private investigator for this place.
“You’re going to die.”
The aging male stopped in his tracks at what seemed to be Logan‘s passing comment. He rolled his eyes, seeing as he’s heard this one before. He turned to Logan with a feigned smile, and tilted his head.
“Really now? What, did you look into my eyes? Did you ENVISION me dying and when I’m going to die? Oh, do you see a fucking ORANGE TIMER above my head telling me I’m about to DIE?!”
Logan was silent for a moment, before he replied in a calm, malevolent voice. “No…,” He began.
“I just am good at persuading people.”
“Wh-”
Before the investigator could even say one more word to retort Logan’s statement, The deafening sound of an explosion filled his eardrums. The tinted window and the concrete wall behind him combusted and exploded outwards. Chunks of concrete and glass rammed into the investigator, forcing his old and frail body to go flying farther than a man in his prime would go. He hit the wall behind him with a noticeable thud, falling to the ground back first. His ears were ringing, and it took him a few moments to regain the composure he had lost. Searing pain coursed through his entire body, keeping him in his place. He didn’t want to move, in fear that he may break or fracture something further. After what seemed like an eternity, he turned his head to the left, where Logan was supposedly sitting.
But he was gone. The chair had tipped over and the handcuffs were on the ground, broken in the middle.
The little fucker. He must have grabbed a piece of concrete and slammed it into the chain link and ran off during all the commotion. He got away. Logan was more clever than he had let on.
To the severe pain of the aging male on the ground, he lifted his head up a tad so that he could see the office-like room that resided next to the interrogation area. Papers were scattered every which way, and the explosion had knocked over filing cabinets and desks. There were no casualties, from what he saw. Surprising, since one concrete chunk to the head and your skull could break. As a matter of fact, he didn’t even SEE anybody in the office. All of them were gone. Did they all go home? Was he really with that kid for that long of a time?
A police officer walked into his field of vision, with a 9mm pistol held tight in his grasp. Upon closer inspection, it was Clark,, the rookie police officer he had yelled at a little while ago. His hat was off, but his uniform was. There was no soot or rips in it, like he hadn’t even been here for the explosion. He walked into the office, before turning to the right and walking towards the investigator lying on the ground, unable to move much of anything.
“You weren’t here for the explosion?! What the fuck, you were supposed to be doing paperwork!” Even in his disabled state, he still loved to yell. Especially at him, since he was there.
However, Clark was silent. He only looked down at the investigator. It looked like every bone in his body may have been broken, his legs and arms jointed in ways they shouldn’t have.
“Jesus, stop with the silent treatment, you weirdo. Did you at least capture Logan?”
More silence.
When the investigator was about to say something, Clark’s foot lifted up, stomping onto his torso. He howled in pain, his eyes widened with fear and staring at Clark. Why was he doing this.
His gun was then pointed to the male below him. A slight smirk crossed his face, and he scoffed. “Who’s the fool now?”
BANG!