EPILOGUE : WHICH ONE IS THE REAL ME?

POV - EVANGELINE HOPES

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"Today is your last day here," Officer Harry said softly, smiling as though he were offering me a farewell gift instead of a death sentence.

I returned the smile, empty and practiced. “Tomorrow, I’m leaving for the state mental health care center. The court says I must stay there until I’m ‘cured.’ And if I’m not… well, then I’ll be their permanent guest.” My voice sounded casual, light even, as if I were talking about a weekend getaway. “Two security guards will accompany me at all times,” I added, but no one needed reminding.

When I stepped out of the courthouse, the media swarmed like vultures to a carcass. Their cameras flashed, and their microphones were shoved into my face, their words sharp and dripping with judgment. Most of their eyes screamed disgust. Hatred. Fear. I smiled wider, because what else could I do but smile? Officer Harry shielded me, guiding me into the cold, metallic belly of the prison transport vehicle. Beside us, Mr. Albino coolly addressed the press, laying out facts with his usual poise.

“Of course he won the case,” I thought bitterly. That was his gift—winning.

Then they came—my friends. Bill, Tiara, Odin. Their presence carved a jagged hole in my already fractured heart.

“Cheer up, it’s just your fate. You haven’t lost anything,” I told them with a wink that trembled at the edges. “Thank you for staying until the end.”

“Eva…” Tiara sobbed, shaking her head. “I’m so sorry. I couldn’t save you.”

“You did your best,” I whispered, wiping her tears away. “You were never meant to fight this war alone.”

Bill clenched his fists, his voice unwavering. “I’ll find a way. I’ll bring you back, Black Devil.”

I chuckled softly. “That sounds so like you, Boss. Thank you.”

“It’ll be boring without you, Black Witch,” Odin murmured before wrapping me in a hug that caught me off guard. For a fleeting second, warmth blossomed in my chest as I returned his embrace.

“Raven... you’ve always been the kindest among monsters,” I teased, but my voice cracked with emotion. “Thank you, all of you.”

“Officer,” I finally said, my voice steadier than my spirit. “Please take me to the car.” I turned back once to look at them, imprinting their faces into my memory. A lump in my throat rose as I realized this would be the last time I would see them like this—free, untainted by the storm I carried within.

I searched the crowd, but neither Zeraf nor Uncle were there. Somehow, that absence carved deeper wounds than I expected. Why does it hurt so much? Why does it feel like I'm already dead?

I won’t cry, I told myself, clenching my fists. I won’t cry.

That night, I lay in my prison cell, staring at the darkness above, as if it would whisper answers. The ceiling, a canvas of my regrets, watched silently as I pieced together the puzzle of my life.

The mastermind. The murders. My father’s death. Miranda’s lifeless eyes. My abnormality.

It all unraveled, thread by thread, until the truth lay bare before me.

I killed my father.

Not in a haze, not in some fit of uncontrollable rage—but through a carefully orchestrated manipulation. He was forced to pull the trigger under the mastermind’s command, but my bloodstained hands were not innocent either.

The mastermind had sent evidence—my mother’s mysterious death, Myla’s rape, the corrupt monsters in the city’s highest ranks—to the court, the police, and every major news outlet. The revelations sent shockwaves through Lahorla City. Powerful men were dragged into the spotlight, their masks ripped away.

During those two days, whispers filled the prison walls. I was no longer just the girl who lost her mind—I was the cursed child, the pawn and predator of a much darker game.

Officer Harry told me about the secret room in my home. My private lair. A shrine to the mastermind’s legacy. It had been there all along, hidden from even me, the unwilling host to a demon I couldn’t control. “If the mastermind used their genius for good, things would have been different,” Officer Harry mused.

But monsters rarely choose redemption.

Then came Zeraf. Unexpected. Uninvited. His usual warmth, gone. His charm extinguished. He looked older, like the burden of loving me had aged him beyond recognition.

“Why did you come here?” I asked, voice hollow.

“Because I love you,” he said, raw and defiant. “Even if it takes centuries, I will wait for you.”

I stared, stunned. “Zeraf, don’t be stupid. Go live your life. Don’t chain yourself to me.”

“Shut up!” he snapped. “You don’t get to decide that. I love you, whether you want me to or not. You’re not alone, Eva. I’ll fight this darkness with you.”

He kissed my forehead, his touch gentle despite the storm in his eyes.

I turned away, choking on the weight of his devotion. “Goodbye, Zeraf...”

That night, alone in my cell, I broke into pieces. Silent tears blurred my vision as the truth settled over me like a suffocating fog.

I remembered now—the foggy memories returning like shards of glass piercing my mind.

The darkness isn’t around me.

It’s inside me.

The monster wears my face, speaks with my voice, laughs with my joy. I am not fighting it; I am it.

The world worships pretty masks. Monsters walk among us, dressed in silk and smiles. They wait, patient and silent, until your guard drops—then they devour.

I was devoured long ago.

And now I’m the one devouring.

I fooled myself into believing I was pure. That the little girl inside me was still untouched by all this filth. But that’s a lie. My purity is a mask, and beneath it are fangs and claws and eyes hungry for chaos.

The monster inside me wears many faces—and one of them is mine.

I am one of them, after all.

❤️THE END❤️

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