Fallen To The Red Gaze
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Ongoing41m
Last published Sun, Dec 23, 2018
Death. It is inevitable. It is the fate of everything that lives. When it comes too early, it is misunderstood. Those who deliver death are called killers. What we see as inhumane violence, they see as a work of art. Their transformation could be in the spur of the moment or it could be a slow planned out process. Those who have delivered multiple deaths are serial killers. Society fears them, for one day death could be delivered to them.
There is always more than one side to every story. This story speaks of a finished case. There were two detectives on the case, one with a traumatic past, the other still a newbie on the field. Warren has worked many cases before, but this is the first one with his new partner, on an uncomfortable turf, and after so many changes to his life. Protecting the people is a heavy job, but it's what he's always been good at. How many shall die before the Red Man is caught?
The Red Man has no past, but knows he exists and has perhaps existed for a while. He dislikes so many things, and there's no sense in hiding it. Actions always speak louder than words. He does what he wants. Is that wrong? Perhaps, but that doesn't stop him. Will he get caught, or is he simply to mysterious to be found?
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The door opens and closes thirty times in five minutes, the table clutters endlessly. What's happening? Why am I being held by two officers in the corner of a counseling clinic? Is this an interrogation ground now? Shadows race past me, like mirages in a desert, faces flicker into view only to vanish the next second. The officers speak, but I can't hear them. My senses are failing me. Something inside me is taking control, and I might faint. If I wake up in a hospital, will this still be a nightmare, or something scripted? The city woke to devastation. The news spread like wildfire-Dr. Nadia, a champion for human rights, had been murdered in this very clinic. Yesterday, she voiced her fear for her life; no one listened. Now, she's gone. The press churned out articles minute by minute, TV channels broadcast live updates, and the internet roared with outrage. Police teams haven't slept. Top agents were deployed. That's how I met Inspectors Carla and Javed-while being held as both the prime suspect and the sole witness to this chaos. Dr. Nadia wasn't just a leader; she was a symbol of hope. She fought tirelessly for the oppressed, for justice, for rights the government ignored. Yet, she seemed to know her time was near. A week ago, she hinted at it but continued her fight. Yesterday, she paid the price-her life. Now, the city mourns her loss, consumed by guilt for ignoring her cries for help. The last time I saw Nadia, she was here, in this clinic. She didn't want to live. She seemed tired, desperate for respite. How does someone so adept at convincing others to hold on end up wanting to let go? Her death feels like a betrayal. She trusted us, and we failed her. I failed her. Now, it's on me to prove this was no accident-a cold-blooded murder. Or was it?
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