Reverie [The Distortionist x reader]

Chapter 2

(Art by haphazard-shu on Tumblr)

Nobody's gonna blame me for that

Impossible, impossible

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Location: 5th Avenue, in front of Elsner's Sew Shoppe. Time: 18:21. Victim: Nancy Elsner. Murderer: Christopher Pierre. Motivation: ?

You close your notebook, sighing at the big question mark dirtying the page. It is extremely annoying as a journalist to have information missing, but the blank will soon be filled. You are waiting for Christopher's judgment to commence.

It is still a while before the trial would begin, but you need the extra time to prepare yourself to see the bastard who killed Nancy. You can't do anything else the whole morning anyway since you are so anxious.

You'd talked to some cops out front to get the main information. You also had already interviewed witnesses and nobody could tell you any more than the police. Only a few details were clarified; what happened before the murder and after.

This Christopher seems... erratic. That would be a nice way to put it, from what witnesses told you. Was he drugged out? Was he just insane? You will find out.

As you sit on one of the audience's benches, trying to come up with questions for the lawyers and detectives, someone tugs on your sleeve. Over your shoulder, you saw a boy with curly black hair.

He looks about fourteen and is dressed very strangely; he has a blanket draped over his torso and a bandanna covering the lower half of his face. His eyes are disconcerting, but you can't tell exactly what puts you off about them. Rationally, you can tell they are normal.

"Good morning, miss," the boy greets with an unidentifiable accent. "Or, since it's only an hour 'till noon, should I say 'good day'?"

You chuckle at his question, still being a tad startled from his abrupt approach. You turn around completely to talk to him better. "Good day, then. My name is miss [L/N]. What should I call you?"

"Hmm..." He takes one hand from under his blanket and scratches his covered chin. "Charon, I guess."

"Are you not from around here?" you ask. It would explain his weird attire, accent, and name.

"Not really," he shrugs. "I came from Greece."

You smile. "Alright. Do you know where your parents are?"

"I wanted to talk to you." Charon tilts his head, ignoring your question. "Did you want to know more about Christopher Pierre?"

"Yes, actually." You open your journal once more and ready your pen. "Do you know anything?"

"A few things," he hums. "Chris wasn't in the right state of mind when he committed the murder. Of course, no murderer is, but I don't think he realized he was killing a person."

"Oh? How do you know that?"

"I was there when it happened," the boy giggles. Immediately after, he brings his hand up to his bandanna. "Oh! I shouldn't have laughed. I'm sorry. But he was talking to his reflection in the sew shop's display window before he broke it and hopped in, and he was talking about shadows following him. I was pretty close..."

"Thank you. Do you have any other information?" you asked, scribbling on your notebook.

"A bit more... But you'll get to know all the rest in the trial. Good luck with your article!" He turns around and walks away. You could have sworn you saw three hands protruding the blanket's cover, but at the next glance, there are only two.