The Evil Half

Opening

The room is dark with a single lamp light, reflecting off of their faces. The only thing that can be heard is the sound of his chains against the metal table and he's humming to himself as if he wouldn't be 6 ft underground in 72 hours, well, 71 now. She sits so elegantly, to beautiful, too bright for a room this dark. Her eyes, her dark pools full of emotion are closed, momentarily hiding her anger and frustration not to mention her hatred for this particular man; if he can even be called that still. This man should never be seen as anything other than a monster, one of the cruelest man has ever seen.

" Are you done?"

" What? You didn't like the personal concert? I feel like I should give an encore. " He smirks in a way that send shivers all down my spine. It's an unusually frightening feeling as if even though this man has thick chains grounding him to the other side of the table, I'm not safe." You seem like your in a good mood but you do know that's you're going to be dead in the next 72 hours right? I'm just here to help you. If you tell me the names of the rest of your victims, I'll make sure that everyone gives you the credit you deserve as the most notorious serial killer of our generation."

I'm their last resort. They've done everything from threatening him to bribing; none seeming to crack his sealed lips. He has too much pride for that. He'd rather go knowing that they will never know where their loved ones are. He'd rather die knowing that people will never know if their loved ones are alive or not, with an unreasonable and dying hope that maybe, just maybe, that they are completely unrelated to his killings. This sadistic man would rather die knowing that complete strangers, the families of his multitudinous victims, are forced to live the rest of their lives in anxious misery than to be given credit for his undoubtedly large number of killings.

" I don't know little one. If I give them up, you'll be done with me and I'll be all alone for the next three days. I'd much rather spend what little time I have left with a beauty like yourself. " He jokes trying to reach for my hand but the chains keep him in place, sounding loudly against the metal table.

" I don't have all day Joker. As much as I enjoy entertaining you, I have places to be, bills to pay and what not so I'd appreciate it if you don't waste my time."

I pull out my file full of gruesome pictures laying them out side by side, row after row.  The pictures seem to keep going, as if they'd never end. They told me not to show him these, that he's only get turned on by looking at pictures of his supposed victims but we're at the end of the line. I've never been one to follow orders anyways.

" What did you do to them." Some of the people, their pictures are familiar. A girl from that corner store; a man who stole a car from 7nth street, a man killed with two shots to his chest.

" I don't know what you mean sweetheart. I've never seen these people in my life." He shrugs his shoulders without a care in the world and unlike what they told me, he doesn't even spare the pictures a single glance after an initial scan. " Let's get one thing straight Joker, I'm not here to accuse you or frame you. We already know you killed every single one of these people. I just what to know what and why and where." That's a lie.

We gathered all the information we could along with all the murders and missing persons from the moment of his first killing until now hoping and praying to get answers. There's nothing to connect these murders and or kidnappings to this sociopath because he has no definite signature and no eye witnesses. He could have very well gotten away with it all if he didn't let himself be caught. That's, what pisses the higher up off, he turned himself in after a dozen or more murders, or at least more than a few, all the while showing no sign of guilt or remorse. I'm pretty damn sure he turned himself in as a kind of power move to prove that we never would have caught him, to watch us scratch our heads and try to piece together a intricate puzzle practically blindfolded.

We all know in our gut, everything points to this man as the killer of close to a hundred missing or murdered people but we have no real proof, only evidence that could be mistaken as whispering wind. All but one, his confession to killing 2 people which was enough to put him behind bars and land him with his death penalty. 72 hours is all we have to drag the truth out of him and I'll fight tooth and claw until his cold body is buried six feet under the ground.

" Sweetheart, I'm not your average man, you're not going to be able to trick or trap me. At this rate, all your going to get from me is how I'd have treated you so, lets say preciously, if I would have been able to get my hands on you and I assure you, after that, I'll definitely be the only man you'll be able to think about." Along with his sickeningly sweet smile, it's hard to tell if he's threatening me or just wasting my time. All I know is that after seeing pictures of all of his kills, I've spent numerous nights unable to sleep at all.

Another detective stands to my left listening uncomfortably to our conversation, his eyes darting all around the room to distract him from the gruesome pictures spread out all over the table.

" Fine, I have one question them." He seems to show a little bit of interest in this.

" Did you know who he was, the second victim you confessed to killing, or was he just a man to kill to get our attention?" It was never released to the media that he was an undercover cop. No one knew, it was a mission strictly confidential, the only man who knew the details of that cop was the chief of police himself and now myself. Not even him, Doflamingo, should know that the man he killed was a cop, unless the cop himself revealed it himself.

The evil man smirks, as if he were waiting for this question all day.

" You mean Corazon? Of course I knew him."