DEVIANT HEARTS| HEESEUNG

9-Crimson Hands

I badly need my sleep. Not my beauty sleep but my sleep-just fucking sleep.

I woke up at seven in the morning, my sleep restless and fraught with vivid dreams. my mind was consumed with worry, constantly searching for any sign that he was alright, while my cell phone desperately sought a signal. It was then that an urgent call from the warden, Jake Carter, shattered the silence, informing me that something had happened to Heeseung. Without divulging further details, he instructed me to rush to the prison immediately.

Shit, now I need to get there before my normal hour I

As soon as I stepped inside the prison walls, I felt a rush of adrenaline coursing through my veins. Today, time seemed to warp, as the normally 40-minute walk took me only 15 minutes. my feet pounded the tarmac with an ungraceful heaviness, lacking the fluidity they possessed just moments ago. my throat felt dry, my head heavy and my eyes burdened with exhaustion.

I quickly made my way to the warden's office, the worry etched deeply on my face along with the detective of the case Zane Smith, and Jake. The sound of the door slamming shut resonated with the tempest of emotions raging within me. And there, at that moment, my eyes landed on Heeseung, sitting on a chair with handcuffs restraining him.

I froze, my body refusing to move, as my gaze fixated on his hands. The sight was horrifying. His hands were undoubtedly covered in someone's blood, an indelible stain that no one could erase. The thick, cold flow of blood coated Heeseung's fingers, it was fucking blood- but in a brilliant shade of crimson. His eyes watched his fingers move as if he was captivated by the new color of his skin. It felt no different from wet mud, yet it wasn't.

Strangely, instead of feeling repulsed and eager to wash it off, Heeseung felt laughter building up inside him—a joy unlike any he had ever experienced before. Killing, it seemed, was his forte, and he reveled in it. It was his thing.

But for me, it was a harsh reality.

Heeseung had harmed someone, or worse. He had become a monster in my eyes, and I blamed myself for not seeing through his deceptive appearance. There was no kindness within this boy who now looked at me with a sly smile, a grin spreading across his face, revealing unnaturally white teeth. At that moment, his true motives were laid bare—he was a mocker, deriving pleasure from inflicting torment on others.

"Oh, my stupid therapist came," Heeseung sneered, his smile widening as I approached them. Sunghoon, standing behind the black-haired boy, mirrored my confusion and shock.

"What happened?" I managed to find my voice, though it sounded foreign to my ears—low and hoarse. Dizziness overcame her, a knot forming in my stomach at the sight before her.

"Hey, everyone, you're acting as if I killed him. I just played with him a little bit, after all, he was the one who asked for it," Heeseung laughed, his demeanor reflecting a disturbing enjoyment of our horrifying encounter.

He was deriving pleasure from the pain he had inflicted? Could he truly be this heartless and cruel?

"He stabbed Yoovan to death. Yoovan was fatally injured, but we had to call an ambulance," Zane informed me as I took a seat beside him, facing Heeseung.

Yoovan? The name reverberated in my mind, and I struggled to comprehend the gravity of the situation. Why would Heeseung do something so horrific?

"And why would you do something like that?" I asked Heeseung, my eyes locking with his, my voice trembling. My stupid question.

At that moment, his smile faded, and he leaned forward,

his gaze intense.

"Why? Disappointed, Miss West?" Heeseung's words sent a chill down my spine, and my body shivered involuntarily under his penetrating stare.