𝐈𝐋 𝐌𝐀𝐋𝐄 È 𝐆𝐑𝐀𝐍𝐃𝐄 𝐄 𝐕𝐀𝐒𝐓𝐎 - [ 𝖢𝖴𝖱𝖱𝖤𝖭𝖳𝖫𝖸 𝖱𝖤𝖶𝖱𝖨𝖳𝖨𝖭𝖦 ]

𝐏𝐑𝐎𝐋𝐎𝐆𝐔𝐄

"The truth is, every monster you have met or will ever meet was once a human being."

Screams and pleas echoed across the chamber, the man on the hard cement ground kept begging for his life, not wanting to die in this way, not wanting his life to end with him on his cold, dirty floor. His eyes averted to the figure sitting in front of him, praying to find any signs of sympathy on his face, that was when he realised.

This person before him had no such thing as sympathy or a heart, or even a soul.

"With a soul that was as soft and light as silk."

He watched as his underlings continued to beat the man in front of him, his black eyes oh so cold, so cold that there was no trace of a single warmth. He leans back against the red velvet armchair, his fingers mindlessly tapping against the wooden armrest while his other hand fiddles with the lighter, sipping it between his fingers. The shiny gold lighter gleamed slightly under the light, showing the symbol that was beautifully carved on it by the careful and experienced hands of the owner's father.

He looked so gorgeous, so alluring despite being under the chamber's only light source, the light shone right upon him, making him look just like an angel that came straight from the skies above, setting his foot down on the filthy grounds of the earth.

His tanned skin was a beautiful shade of honey gold, his cat-like eyes filled with promises to fulfil the one's deepest and darkest desires. Full of empty, seductive promises. His lips look so soft and innocent, yet what comes out of it were whispers of dirty lies and secrets, dark promises and harsh commands.

He reminds me of a rose: a dark red rose.

So beautiful and enticing on the outside like the petals, yet so dangerous and painful on the inside like the thorns on its stalk.

So dangerous yet so beautifully complex.

"Someone stole that silk from their soul."

"Mr D-Deangelo, p-please I beg y-you, s-spare my life." The beaten man sobs, crawling to Deangelo's feet and kneels in front of him.

"I still have a family-" The man's words were cut off by a sudden laughter, laughter filled with coldness, enough to send chills down one's spine.

"Family? You dare to mention family to my face?" The man trembles at the deep voice, his eyes darted to the ground, not daring to look Deangelo in the eye.

The tanned man sighs briefly, staring at his captive, "I wonder how your daughter would react if she were to find out you took part in a murder, the murder of the man that is considered a national hero."

"And turned them into this."

The man shook his head profusely, pleading Deangelo for mercy, to leave his family alone, to not let his daughter or wife know the truth. The said man didn't spare him a single look of belief , just raising an eyebrow and a smirk on his lips.

"You are a doctor, Dr Luigi. Aren't doctors supposed to save lives?" Deangelo asked him mockingly, spreading his legs slightly while trying to get comfortable.

"You were a remarkable doctor, my father spoke highly of you. He gave you so many opportunities and invested so much into you. Yet you stabbed him in the back just because you simply became greedy." Deangelo bellowed, anger and rage laced in his voice, his eyes glaring daggers at the doctor.