Cases Uncovered

10 | A Great One's Fall

"Tell your secret to the wind, but don't blame it for telling the trees."

- Laila from A Thousand Splendid Suns

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Chapter 10:
A Great One's Fall

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RAINE

"I-I know what happened to your wife and child," I stated firmly, though the struggle to keep myself awake was overwhelming. "The fate of the f-five survivors who were on that minibus is n-not their fault."

"You don't understand what I'm going through," he retorted.

“It doesn’t matter; the police are onto you,” I replied, my fingers pressing against my throbbing head as I fought to stay alert through the haze of exhaustion.

"I don't care about that. After playing with the remaining survivor, I'm ready to surrender," he declared confidently. "You've disrupted my plan, so now you might be my final opponent."

“What game are you playing? Are you out of your mind?” I demanded, my eyes darting away as I struggled to hold his gaze.

He reached into his trouser's pocket and handed me something with a blurry figure of a gun. "Do you know how to use that?" he inquired, taking a seat in front of me.

I'd never held a real gun before; my experience was limited to a dart gun, as I wasn’t allowed to own a real firearm like the one he might have handed me.

"What's this for?"

"The chemical I injected you with — it causes intense pain, dredges up long-buried memories, and triggers self-destructive impulses. Its effects vary depending on the strength of the person," he explained. "Now, I wonder what will its effect be on you?"

The haunting memories of the past clung like unyielding chains, pulling me into a pit of despair.

"I know... I know you wrote that note," I declared, my voice trembling with the fear coursing through me. Tears threatened to spill, but I steeled myself, refusing to be overwhelmed.

"As you speak, you're only killing yourself slowly," he warned.

I slumped against the table, anger and sadness tightening their grip on my heart, desperate to break free from the haunting memories that flashed before me.

"You have Post Traumatic Stress Disorder, so you're not in control," I retorted. "Your mind is a battleground, and you're just trying to survive."

"You're brave, huh. That chemical affects older folks differently then," he taunted. "You should have been knocked out by now!"

Whispers and echoes filled the air, voices from the past intertwining with the present. My parents' words from that tragic day echoed in my ears, along with my sister's desperate pleas.

"What he said is true. You're the final obstacle in my plan," he added. "I should have listened to him from the start."

"H-He? Who is he?" I asked.

"He's apparently one of your fans," he replied cryptically, his words sending a chill down my spine.

The distant wail of approaching sirens reached my ears, a reassuring sign that Mrs. Nuñez and I would soon be safe from the chaos.

"Why the grin? Losing your marbles, are you? That's the chemical working its mischief," he said, rising from his seat and glancing out the window.

"The police are here! Looks like you're losing this game," I spoke. "You didn't succeed in making me take my own life."