It was a name I'd fought to keep buried in the shadows, a name that held the weight of every violent deed, every life I'd taken. And now, the world knew.
News had spread like wildfire, splashing my face and my name across every screen, newspaper, and social feed. I didn't need to see it to know:
"Medusa, the murderer of rapists,"
"Self-Proclaimed Vigilante, Now, Caged,"
"Owner of the famous KopiKopi, a killer turned out to be."
"Heart Stealer, the Killer of Rapists."
And worse. The very name that had once given me power now hung over me like a death sentence.
The guards pushed me forward, leading me to a small, cramped cell. As they released my wrists and locked the bars, I felt the suffocating weight of my new reality settle over me.
I sat down on the edge of the cold metal bed, my eyes adjusting to the darkness around me. The faint, muffled sounds of distant murmurs and shouts filled the space, reminding me that I was no longer in the world outside.
Suddenly, I heard footsteps and turned to see a guard staring at me through the bars, his eyes narrowed with a mix of disgust and fascination.
"So you're Medusa," he muttered, a cruel smile tugging at his lips. "Ganda. Sayang. I would've fucked you but I hope you're ready. People out there are dying to see you brought to justice."
I held his gaze, fighting to keep my face expressionless, but inside, I wanted to cry, I was hopeless, rock bottom.
I have been exposed, and I ruined Jazz, and I let down those who supported me. All because of my selfishness. Every thought pushing me deeper to relentlessness.
A murmur from one of the nearby cells caught my attention. "Medusa, huh?" a rough voice drawled. "The woman who thinks she's judge, jury, and executioner."
I didn't respond. Instead, I closed my eyes, drawing a breath and letting the silence wrap around me. This prison cell was nothing compared to the prison I'd carried within myself, the weight of every life I'd taken never pressed against my conscience.
I was more pre-occupied with how Jazz expressed his emotions for the first time, and it still hurts. His disappointed look at me hurts.
The guard's radio crackled to life. "She's wanted in the courtroom. They're fast-tracking her case," a voice announced.
"Already?" he replied, sounding almost amused. "Guess they really want her head."
"You can call a lawyer. Medusa."
"It's pointless." I whisper to myself, the room opens and Potato comes in, "Heart!" She reached over the prison bar, but I couldn't even motion myself to hold her hand. I didn't want her to stain herself because of me.
After minutes, of her trying to talk to me, I never replied. "I'll call you a lawyer." Potato says as she gets drawn out by the guards.
It's pointless. Miyuki. It's over for me now.
They shackled me again, this time even tighter, and led me through the winding halls toward the courtroom. I could feel the eyes on me, the judgment from every corner. The guards, the inmates, the officials—they all looked at me as if I were something to be purged, a blight to be erased.
