"Hi, I'm what you would call crazy, insane, delusional. I'm not. It's all mistakes, lies, each lie coming out of the witness's mouth. I never killed her. I was instructed to."
"Who instructed you to do this?"
"Me."
"You instructed yourself to do this?"
"You laugh, I did. He did, to be exact. It was him holding the knife, gliding it gently into her chest."
"Who's he?"
"Me. I told you. It was me."
"You told yourself to do this?" This was calmly stated by the clean-shaven man in a dark blue suit.
"Yes."
"You realize you just contradicted yourself. By stating someone instructed you to do this, you were implying someone forced you to do this."
"Oh but they did."
"Who forced you to do this, we need names. If someone forced you to do this, you won't have to go to jail."
"But I want to go."
"Why would you possibly want to go."
"Because he said prison's nice."
"Who said this?" The man in the suit was starting to get frustrated.
"Me."
"You're crazy!" A gruff voice echoed throughout the brown room.
"Oh, but I'm not. I'm not a demon, a killer, a monster. Labels are what society asks of you, something that shall eventually destroy us all. You claim me as mad, yet you don't understand yourself. Insanity is so simple, yet complex, all it takes is a brutal murder, a fired gun. Anyone can be a so-called "monster", yet there is few of us. Why? I'll tell you. The so-called "ordinary" people act like I'm the crazy one, yet, think of it. Everyone is insane, some people just embrace it more than others."
