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The Lonely Killer

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18

I left his body where it fell.

The blood still clung to my hands, dried and cracking like fragile memories.

I didn’t bother cleaning it off.

I didn’t care.

But my mind—it wouldn’t stay quiet.

I kept hearing his voice.

It was never about the killing… was it?

I paced the small room I’d holed up in, walls closing in, shadows too loud.

The knife sat on the floor, but it felt useless now.

Why didn’t he fight back?

Why didn’t he pull his gun?

Why didn’t he arrest me?

He had me. Right there.

I Was the killer.

The monster.

But instead of stopping me, he… tried to save me.

Save me from what?

Myself?

The idea made me laugh—a bitter, broken sound that echoed off the walls.

No one ever cared about me.

Not at work.

Not in life.

But him?

Why did he care?

He could’ve been the hero.

The detective who caught the killer.

The headlines would’ve loved it.

But he didn’t.

He looked at me like I was something more than just a murderer.

Maybe that’s why I killed him

Because he saw something in me that I refused to see in myself.

Now he’s gone, and his words are the only thing left.

Detective

You’re slipping.

I thought killing him would silence that voice.

But it’s louder now..

And it’s mine

*Thank-you*

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Updated 42 Episodes

Part 2: 1

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