I sat in that room, staring at the screen where Colin’s face was etched with desperation.


    I knew that when provoked, Colin would go berserk and turn to self–harm – his twisted way of


    punishing himself was to inflict pain upon his own flesh.


    Within those four walls, Colin refused to respond to the doctor’s queries. Instead, he banged his head


    against the wall with force as if to shock himself into tranquility.


    “You did it, didn’t you? You killed Phoebe. You locked her in a ss cab. I remember back in the


    mental institution, how you used to hoard those little dead critters you were so fond of. You were afraid


    that kitten would leave you, so you snuffed out its life, turned it into a specimen. and stashed it in your


    so–called safe ce. The bird, too.” The doctor pressed on relentlessly.


    He was determined to wring the truth out of Colin.


    “You were obsessed with Phoebe, but she was never yours to im. She fell for Dexter, and that’s why


    you had to eliminate her, isn’t it? So she’d be yours forever, encased in that ss. cab. Am I right?”


    The doctor’s voice boomed through the room.


    Colin’s trembling frame stiffened, and for a moment, he locked eyes with the doctor, his forehead


    smeared with blood from his self–inflicted wounds.


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    I knew Colin was on the brink; the walls were reying his tormented past, a hell he had never


    forgotten.


    And the doctor? He didn’t let up, not for a second.


    “Dexter, let me go.” I red at Dexter, my eyes rimmed with anger.


    “He’s a psycho! What’s there to even care about?” Dexter seemed to lose hisposure, pointing at


    the screen for me to see. “He ends up killing everything he cherishes. If you stay with him… you’ll meet


    the same fate.”


    My gaze shifted back to Lamont, who persisted in tormenting Colin, pushing him to confess to being a


    murderer.


    Madmen, all of them.


    “Dexter, you’re the one who killed Phoebe…” My voice was low, a ploy to distract him.


    He winced and averted his gaze as if in pain, staring back at the screen. He needed to hear Colin admit


    to killing Phoebe…


    Seizing the moment Dexter was distracted, I bit through the restraint on my wrist, grabbed a stick from


    the ground, and swung it at Dexter’s head.


    09:34


    It was my first time striking someone, and fear mixed with my resolve.


    Perhaps my strength wascking because Dexter wasn’t knocked out. He fell to the floor, his hand


    coming away from his forehead stained with blood, his expression darkening.


    I stepped back and bolted.


    Back in the room.


    Lamont kept at it, relentless. “You’ve been fixated on Phoebe for years, haven’t you? Even in the


    mental institution, you’d call out her name in your sleep. You’ve been plotting her death all along,


    right?”


    Lamont eyed Colin, whose gaze suddenly darkened, and he stepped back, fear creeping into his


    stance.


    Colin remained silent until Lamont retreated. Then, with a sudden move, he grabbed Lamont’s cor,


    yanking him close.


    His voice was a hoarse whisper, barely audible. “Not… true…”


    With a swift motion, Colin smashed Lamont’s head against the wall, knocking him out cold.


    Wiping the blood that had trickled to his eye, Colin stood up and smashed the projector, his gaze icy as


    he stared towards the camera.


    When I burst through the door, Colin’s gaze was still chillingly cold.


    But the moment he saw me, the ice in his eyes melted into vulnerability. He just stood there, shaking so


    slightly it was almost imperceptible.


    “Phoebe…


    His voice broke as he called my name, head bowed as tears fell like pearls, dampening the gray hoodie


    that clung to his frame.


    I was frozen, taking in the chaos, the unconscious Lamont on the floor.


    “Phoebe, I didn’t kill anyone.” His first words to me were a plea of innocence.