One shots

Insanity~ Gerard

Don't ask what this is cause idk. I got bored.

I make my way inside, right into the interrogation room. I take a deep breath before entering, preparing myself for the moment I've waiting so long for.

Behind those doors is the man I've been investing and studying for years. And we finally caught him.

I looked at him through the one way glass. It almost felt unreal being so close to him. He glanced up at me, brown eyes connecting with mine, sending a twinge of unease through my system. I shake my head and open the door, entering the room.

"Ah, hello my dear. Am I safe in assuming you'll be my interrogator for this evening?" He smiles, winking at me.

"I'm here to talk." I state flatly, slapping my files down onto the table.

"Well then, I know you'll have your questions, ask away!"

"Why did you do it? What made you become what you are?" He smiles, practically radiating arrogance.

"Blunt, I like it. Please tell me my dear, what am I?" He asks, voice smooth, alluring. I pause as he continues, leaning forwards into the table. "Go on. Tell me."

"Tell you what?"

"Tell me I'm a bad man."

"You're a psychopath who deserves to be locked up. You're not a bad man, you're a monster." I spit, he rolls his eyes.

"Oh mon chere, you flatter me!" He leans back in the chair, draping his arm over the back. "I'm just the way the doctors made me."

"The doctors didn't make you murder and torture all those people. I'm not even sure they can help you, but they'll try. Besides, sane or not you're gonna be locked up for a long time."

"Preach all you want but no one's gonna save me. Locked doors and padded walls. It's all just a joke." He laughs. I sit down across from him. "So give me all your poison, give me all your pills, give me all your hopeless hearts and make me ill."

"Quite the poet aren't you." I say, he smirks again.

"Sister I'm not much a poet but a criminal."

"Can they not be one in the same?"

"Not in this situation my dear." He reaches up, swiping his hair from his eyes.

"So? Why did you do it?" I question. He smiles again, dragging his lip behind his teeth before releasing it.

"Well, it wasn't the money and it sure as hell isn't just for the fame." My patience was growing thin with him.

"Then why?" I ask, he seems to take amusement in my persistence. He leans forward, placing his cuffed hands on the table.

"I did this so maybe I'd live this everyday. Touched by angels as I fall out of grace," He smiles. "It's for the bodies I claim." This man truly is a psychopath, and a murderous one at that. But there's something about him. I shake the thoughts from my head, I can't let him get to me.

"How long have you been doing this?" I ask.

"Oh sweetheart. I've been killing before killing was cool."

"So what, is killing just a sport to you? Taking lives means nothing to you? You just lust for blood, don't you?"

"Not sport, almost an addiction I'd say. I have tried to stop. God I made so many promises that I'd stop. That I'd quit this lifestyle." He smirked. "I tried, but I spent so many nights just laughing and crying. But I lied. Another knife was put in my hands, and another stain was made. I'm dirty babe." I glance at him in confusion.