The Boy Called Death (Part 2): THE SUSPECT

June 28, 2012
By demonslayer125 SILVER, Omaha, Nebraska
demonslayer125 SILVER, Omaha, Nebraska
8 articles 0 photos 0 comments

Favorite Quote:
"I have been impressed with the urgency of doing. Knowing is not enough; you must apply. Being willing is not enough; you must do" - Leonardo da Vinci

The room the police used for questioning was plain and white with a lamp over a table. Two chairs stood, one on each side for judgment. He liked it. A smile slipped upon his lips if just for a second as he relished the thoughts swarming through his head. Judging was his thing.
“Sit down, sir,” Detective Fields ordered in his deep, stern voice.
The boy sat obediently. There wasn’t any reason to try rebelling or making things difficult. Eventually these people would understand everything. He didn’t understand a lot of things that had happened to him but that was before he realized his true purpose.
Detective Fields took out one folder, placing the others with him, and spread three pictures of the victims in front of the boy. All their faces were pale and disfigured like they’d literally been scared to death, or something evil had mutated them. But Kieran wasn’t evil. He was far from it. The detective might just learn. When he stared down at the pictures of the family, he twitched at the work done on them. Even if it was his, he was still getting used to the expressions frozen eternally on their faces when he took their lives.
He didn’t plan on admitting guilt though. They deserved to be killed. He wasn’t sure about specifics but everyone deserved to die in the end. Humans were all nasty sinners damned to hell. “What happened to them? Why do they look like that?” he asked.
“That’s what I’m asking you, Kieran,” the detective’s thick brows, softened by grey, furrowed down. His expression was set in a serious frown.
“Is this a joke?” Kieran cocked his head. The name was given to him a long time ago when he was put up for adoption. The boy’s dark brown eyes widened and he leaned forward to look like he were insulted and in disbelief. The metal table was cold to the touch as he braced his pale hands on its edge.
Detective Fields refused to falter. Kieran didn’t think he would. “It’s no joke, Mr. Vermeer,” his oppressor growled. “We got your finger print off the stair case. You made a mistake. We’ve caught you and you can’t do anything about it. There’ll be a nice little cell for you to stay behind bars the rest of your life. I don’t care if you’re a juvenile. You know, the other men thought you were just a little child but we both know you’re not. You’re capable of so much more than a normal boy, right? So what’d you do?” The detective had been given the lab results a week ago and there were still no clues to the cause of death. There wasn’t any poison in the liver or other blood vessels through their bodies. That scratched out the possibility of euthanasia.
“You think you know everything, detective?” Kieran blinked. His tone was mocking but not arrogant. He wouldn’t get over-confident so soon. “Then tell me. What do you know? I was invited to the place that day and me and the boy played video games. They invited me for dinner and after that I left.”
“They knew you, yes. That’s the only reason they’d let you into their house,” Fields calculated the scenario as he spoke. “But your story simply doesn’t make a very great alibi now does it?” The man leaned forwards and Kieran could smell his breath. Cigars and a tuna sandwich…
“How can you disprove my alibi? It’s flawless. Even if my fingerprint is the one on that rail, how would you know when I put it there? The family’s dead now so you don’t have any witnesses. Look, call my mom and ask her where I was at the time of their murder.”
“Oh we would,” Fields started and then glanced down at the stack of files he’d placed before himself. Kieran couldn’t tell exactly what they were but he could spot a blurry, black and white photo of him taken maybe six years ago. That was concerning. Was that a passport photo or something?
“But,” the detective’s voice brought Kieran’s attention back. “According to these files here, you don’t live with your birth mother. You’re an orphan aren’t you?”
Kieran gave no reply. The man already knew the answer and Kieran didn’t want to waste his breath.
Detective Fields cleared his throat and straightened the papers. Doing that wouldn’t make those stupid files look any more credible. “We looked through the organization’s files on you and traced your path between different families. You seem to be a good boy with them so you haven’t transferred much. Your first adoption was back in 2000 when you were only three. So who had you up until then?” The detective stared Kieran in the eye. Stupid man thought looking him in the eye would spill all the answers. It wouldn’t.
“My birth mother, of course. Who else would have had me so early in life?” Why would the detective ask such a stupid question? Kieran couldn’t remember his birth mom but it made sense because he’d been so young. Once in a blue moon he’d try thinking back to get imaginary pictures or digging for the slightest memory of her, but there were none. Occasionally, he had dreams; strange dreams where he imagined himself on a table and above him was a bright circle of light. It was cold and he was scared. He didn’t know why, he just was. Something bad was going to happen, something painful. In fact, this room was starting to look strikingly similar: a metal table and a lamp overhead. Just when the dream showed him a door opening to reveal someone, the only thought that inserted itself into his mind was destiny. He knew he had a destiny; a great one that only he could fulfill for the world. He wasn’t going to question how it came to him. It must’ve been God. Simple as that.
“Let’s see…you’re fifteen now, or so says the orphanage. You don’t look too strong but that could be your advantage now, couldn’t it? People wouldn’t expect you to cause harm. Well, your peculiar appearance might make you a bit standoffish but other than that, they have no reason to fear you. You could choose any victim, low or high risk. So why did you choose the family that was close to you? Or if you were going to choose close people, why not choose to kill your foster family? Perhaps that’d be inconvenient since you still need them to provide for you,” the detective pondered aloud, still gazing at Kieran.
“I’m not a killer.” I am an angel. Angels weren’t killers. The only killing they did was in the name of God. It was for man’s own good. That’s what Kieran was doing.
“Yes you are! Look at them! Look what you did! You killed them! Admit it! We have it all on tape!” The detective’s fist slammed on the table but Kieran wasn’t startled.
“The Dennings don’t have security cameras in their house, detective,” he said coolly, taking the man’s anger in stride. “Stop wasting my time. You have zero evidence against me and I have a solid alibi.” Kieran pushed the chair back and started to stand, when Fields spoke again.
“No you don’t.”
Kieran paused. “You can stop bluffing now. If it’s really necessary, I’ll get a lawyer to prove my innocence. Really, I guess I should’ve done that from the start since you obviously don’t listen to reason.”
“We called your foster mom and she said you weren’t home during the span of time we assume the family had been killed. So we asked for the numbers of your friends and called them. Those who answered said you weren’t with them.”
What? He’d told that woman he’d be at a friend’s house and then he’d told the friend to lie. Kieran would make sure to extract vengeance on that jerk the moment he got out of this hole.
“It’s true. So we’ve got you spot on,” the detective said affirmatively. “Now you can both admit your guilt and get a shorter sentence or we’ll just pound you and you’ll get to serve three life sentences. Do you understand, young man? Tell me. What did you do to that innocent family?”
Guess the answer was out. His alibi had failed him and he hadn’t thought it through enough to create other suspects for the police to dawdle with. Kieran leaned forward and put his hands on the table. The handcuffs chain clattered and he hissed, “If I told you, detective, then you wouldn’t understand. Furthermore, you wouldn’t be able to stop me from doing it again.”
Rather than pull away, Fields went head against the challenge with a furious growl. “Try me. I will send your butt to the darkest pit Manhattan’s prisons has. See how great murdering will go for you then.” Before the detective could take another breath, Kieran’s pupils dilated. Then crimson red blossomed to cover his entire eye, leaving him pupil less. The light overhead wobbled and the room shook. At first it was a quiver, and then it was a more noticeable tremble. Kieran’s shadow spread across the room like a living thing with swirling and undulating black tentacles swam up the walls.
Detective Field’s eyes widened to the size of golf balls and he fell out of his chair the second he tried to stand out of the way. It wouldn’t matter what he did. Kieran would still get him. The sound of screaming and shouts came from behind the wall. Those people must be seeing everything through the camcorder. Let them see. Let everyone see. He was the angel of death and justice would come for them all.

The author's comments:
Please forgive any errors pertaining to grammar or sentance structure, or any contradictions that have not yet been corrected. Enjoy!

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