In a dimly lit concrete room, three people sat around a table.
Two individuals, clad in police uniforms, occupied one side, while a boy sat alone on the other.
The boy, with his disheveled black hair and vacant blue eyes, seed detached from his surroundings.
Traces of dried tears streaked his cheeks, and his hands were bound with handcuffs. His clothes were stained with dried blood.
"Ahem," Detective Martinez cleared his throat, breaking the silence. "Let's go over this once again."
Turning his attention to the boy, he continued, "Inder Sephtis, age fifteen, a student, with a clear criminal record. Is this information correct?"
The boy nodded without eting his gaze.
Detective Martinez acknowledged the response before proceeding. "You were found at the scene of the cri, covered in blood, with your family mbers... deceased."
At the ntion of his family, the boy flinched but kept his gaze fixed on the table.
"There were reports of three gunshots from your house within a span of five minutes," Detective Roul added, producing a sealed packet containing a gun.
".....And the gun has your fingerprints." Detective Martinez finished as his gaze bore on the boy.
"We need you to tell us what happened that night, Inder," Detective Roul urged, leaning forward.
"You... have all the proof you need," the boy replied, his voice calm and devoid of emotion. "Why are you asking all this?"
"We can't help you if you don't tell us the truth," Detective Martinez responded, his gaze steady.
"I... I killed them," the boy confessed, his voice wavering slightly. "That is the truth."
Detective Martinez and Detective Roul exchanged a somber glance, acknowledging the weight of his confession.
Despite suspecting it from the evidence, hearing it directly from him was chilling.
"Why, Inder?" Detective Roul inquired, his tone laced with sympathy.
But Inder remained silent, his gaze fixed on the table, his emotions concealed beneath a facade of numbness.
"....Both your parents had clean records," Detective Roul continued, pressing for more information. "Your father was a regular office worker, and your mother was an ordinary housewife."
Inder flinched again at the ntion of his parents, but the detectives ignored it.
"We need to understand what led to this, Inder," Detective Roul persisted, tapping his fingers on the table. "Why did you do this?"
Once again, the boy remained silent, refusing to answer.
Detective Roul sighed tiredly, then retrieved a photo from the evidence and placed it on the table.
"Do you know her?" he asked, prompting Inder to look at the photo.
It depicted a girl around his age, with disheveled odsain black hair and eyes, and a beautiful smile.
Inder gazed at the photo but didn't respond.
"Senara Azenor, your classmate," Detective Roul continued, studying Inder's reaction. "Do you recognize her?"
"I... I know her," Inder finally replied, his smile bittersweet, conveying a mix of emotions, primarily sadness.
".....She was found dead in your house," Detective Roul inford him, his gaze unwavering. "In the sa manner as your parents, shot with a gun."
Inder hung his head low at the detective's words, as if trying to deny the reality he was facing.
"....Her mother was inford about her death," Detective Martinez said, causing Inder to tremble. "She told us that she entrusted her daughter's safety to you."
He again remained silent, his eyes starting to blur with tears.
"....She wants to et with you, Inder," Detective Martinez inford him, prompting him to look up.
His breath caught in his throat at the ntion of Senara's mother wanting to et him.
"I... I can't," he whispered hoarsely, his voice barely audible as he struggled to contain his emotions. "I can't face her... I can't face anyone..."
"You killed her daughter and you're refusing to face the consequences?" Detective Roul scoffed at him.
"It's not confird, partner," Detective Martinez interjected, looking at him sternly. "Don't speak as if he's already guilty."
"He's already admitted it; we're just wasting our ti talking to a psychopath," Detective Roul grumbled, letting out a frustrated sigh.
"I... I didn't want any of this to happen," Inder muttered, his voice choked with emotion.
"But it happened!" Detective Roul interjected sharply, his tone accusatory. "You killed your own family and an innocent girl. Don't act like you're the victim here."
"Stop it, Roul, he's only fifteen," Detective Martinez interjected again, looking at Inder.
"And that makes it even worse!" Detective Roul stood up abruptly, glaring at the boy.
"Do you even know how much that girl's mother was crying, hugging her dead body? Do you even realize how many lives you've destroyed?"
"Roul! That's enough!" Detective Martinez stood up as he positioned himself between Inder and Roul.
"Fucking physopath."
Roul stord out of the room, slamming the door behind him.
"Sigh..." Detective Martinez sighed as he looked at Inder, who sat with his head hung low.
"Don't lose hope, kid," he said, prompting Inder to look up. "The mont you lose hope, everything will start to crumble, and your life will lose its aning."
"It's not a nice thing to say to soone who has lost everything," Inder replied, his vacant eyes staring at him. "I... I inherited the sin, and I beca a monster."
"Inder—"
"You know, Detective," Inder interjected before Martinez could finish, "you know what my mother's dying words were?"
Martinez remained silent as he noticed tears sliding down Inder's cheeks.
"S... She told that I... I shouldn't have been born in this world," Inder said as he once again hung his head low.
"M... Maybe she was right."
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