Labelled as cunning and a sharp-witted psychopath, Jack Kinley has his way of getting away with his murder crimes. A serial killer who roamed free in search of his new target, Alice Simone, will come to discover a lot of mysteries untold.
#14 bill...
Jack came back in his apartment after several hours. It was 1 in the morning already. He put his clothes in his washing machine and dressed like his normal clothes. He stared at his hands.
He thought "What have I done?"
He broke into cold sweats. He had the uncontrollable feeling of being paralyzed and suffocated. He looked around his apartment and that's when he realized he was now all alone.
He had never felt more alone which brought more desolation to his soul.
There was a misty haze on the horizon of his mind. He could feel the hard painful lump in the back of his throat as tears began to form in his eyes. Slowly, his breathing hallowed itself and an intense pain struck the top nerve in his head. It certainly shouldn't be anyone else's responsibility to fix the problem because that can only be done by the person who's experiencing a panic attack.
He was haunted by his past, like voices were whispering in his ears in an endless loop, reminding him of what he did.
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It started to make sense to him, in one revolutionary moment after another, cascading out of control, luring him further and further from the self he once knew.
Before he knew it, he was shouting for help, fearing his demons nobody can hear and nobody knows.
He fought to reclaim over his body, shocked by the sound of hysterical sobs escaping from deep within his chest.
He shouted, "You did this to me! I'm a cold hearted mess! Because of you! All of you!"
He covered his face with his shaking hands and continued screaming.
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He was terrified of himself. He kept saying, "What have I done?... what have I done?"
The strange thought that once sunk him into new realities, never leaving a trace or a clue they had taken hold, come and go like they did before. Each is a florid daydream, not viewed like a movie but lived in first person.
It was against the critical and cynical wall of sneering superiority that had become a part of who he is. He shattered into a person barely capable of surviving. His mind became a static, thoughts make no sense, replaying horrors that were once forgotten. Before he knows it, he was sitting on the floor. His limbs were unwilling to work at all.
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