Content Notice: This chapter contains Depictions of non-graphic violence, interrogation under duress, and psychological trauma.

"I'll find out who did this." That's what he told his daughter.

"I swear, I'll avenge your mom."

But she didn't answer. She didn't cry. She just stood there, watching as the medics left what was left of her mother, wiping up whatever had thickened on the floor.

"Someone did this, thinking they'll get away with it."

"They won't."

Hours later, he sat across from another girl. One they found with the knife. The one who had blood on her hands—but none of it was hers.

The room was quiet for a long time. Dry. Not cold, not warm. Just a blank box with four walls and a metal table. Lili sat there with her hands bound behind her and her legs strapped to the chair.

Her lips were split from earlier. Her eyes—tired, hollow, emptied by a long night that never ended.

He asked her name, even though he knew it. She said it anyway.

He asked her what happened, even though he knew. She denied it anyway.

"It's not me." she said. "I had nothing to do with it, I swear. Please—"

He cut her off. "You have no imagination, have you?" It was the fifth time she'd said those exact words.

"I am not lying." she pleaded. "I am not... Please, you have to believe me. You know me."

"No. I do not." he said, cold. "Not anymore."

"I didn't kill anyone, believe me. I am innocent. I was here all night. Ask him behind you."

"You might not be the one who did it." he said. "but you know who did."

She continued denying. Her voice broke with desperation. "I swear, I have no idea."

He walked toward her. His footsteps fell heavy in the silence of the room.

"You're wasting my time." he said calmly. He placed his palm on her face, covering her mouth, and pressed his fingers tight against her skin. "You will speak."

She tried to speak. She couldn't.

His voice dropped, deadly calm. "A life was taken from me. And I'm not stopping until I take one in return. If you don't want it to be you, speak."

He freed her mouth. Then...

The first punch. A clean hook to her face, to the side that still had skin on it—the side that could still feel pain. His hit was powerful, filled with the rage of an old man, fighting for what he had lost, as if he could undo it.

Her tiny body couldn't handle it.

She collapsed with the chair, hitting the metal ground.

"Speak." he said, kicking her guts.

"Speak!" he yelled. "Who are you working with?"

She couldn't speak. The gut punch stole her breath.

But she tried. She tried, but no sound came out. He crouched down, to hear it.

Then, a hoarse voice Forced itself out of her.

"I told you. I told you before."

"No." he said quietly. "You have not."

"I told your friend behind you. Go ask him."

He grabbed her hair, pulling her up.

"Say it again."

"Lukas. Lukas, something. The soldier." she whispered, barely able to get the words out. "The man from the first murder. I saw him around... a few other sites. He was always there."

Outside the room, the father spoke to Erdmann. "Lukas. What do you know about him?"

"He's the other major suspect." Erdmann said. "He was there, At the first murder site, and a few others. But he's got some alibis. Not strong ones, but still. He's been seen by others. I've spoken to him a few times. But so far, we have nothing solid to make a move."

"What do you mean, 'nothing solid'?" His voice rose. "What about all the damn cameras around? Didn't you see anything? Anything at all? Do you even know what's happening around you?"

"I only got one set of eyes, my friend." he tried to calm him down. "And somehow… somehow, the cameras malfunctioned. Every single time a murder happened, they just stopped working."

"Have you figured out why? Or who's behind it? Have you found anything?"

"Unfortunately, no. No one can explain it. Sometimes, the cameras just stop working, or certain parts of the footage get deleted. But it's always done with valid credentials."

"Who's credentials?"

"That's the strange part, isn't it?" Erdmann said "the credentials are mine. Yet, I have no recollection of deleting footage."

"How could someone else is have them?"

"No idea. The only other person who knew them… well, he's long dead. Or at least, he should be. Commander janz."

The father cleared his voice. "I'm going to need a list of everyone who was at the site of the first murder. All the frequent faces around crime scenes, and everyone this girl has interacted with since the murders started."

"You got it, boss," Erdmann said, already pulling something up on his tablet. "The list's ready. Names of the suspects, their routines, some background on each. I even trimmed the fat—ruled out the ones who've been solidly cleared."

He paused, shrugging. "It's not much. I'm no detective, like yourself. But I did what I could. As for the people she's interacted with? We've got days of footage. All there. It'll take more days to get through—maybe a third of that if we fast-track it."

Erdmann continued. "But unfortunately I do need to sleep."

"rest all you need." The father responded quickly. "I'll start without you."

more violent on patreon