It has healed pretty well, hasn’t it? Right here, below my blind eye. You can still see that white scar, even if it’s fading little by little each day. Of course, I wish I didn’t have this to begin with. Seeing it every morning in the mirror doesn’t exactly bring back good memories, does it?
And now, we are back here again. All this time served, yet you just wouldn’t let it be. Going on and on about that Tuesday night. Wouldn’t you like to know what truly happened? Does it not say on my file you have there? Had you not read about it, when my ruined face was plastered all over the front page news?
Cold, irrefutable facts, condemning the heartless man who has no love for his own child. My side of things means nothing, when the world has already decided that they know everything about me. Inhuman. Sadistic. Psychotic. And they are right too. What sort of father kills his own son anyway?
All these time spent cuffed before you. And I still don’t know what I can tell you to make you understand, Doctor. If you really want to know, first, tell me. Do you believe in… the impossible? I don’t mean to be cryptic. But I have a feeling that my honesty may erode what little trust we have between us.
Hell, you already think I’m insane, don’t you?
Since you insist, here it is. The truth. I am talking about werewolves. Not the ones you see on the telly. But the ones in reality, capable of devastation and not control. Monsters. Until you have a grasp of the world beyond ours, you would never genuinely understand.
… Is it too late to ask if this is off the record? You’ve got to help me out. I’m risking it all here, Doc. Leaving behind a reason for you to commit me, so I may live the rest of my sentence within four cushioned walls in The Institution. No thanks. I’m all good with my cosy prison cell.
What’s that? Now, you are pushing it. Believing me is the first step into the void of no return. What will others say, knowing that you are just as guilty of madness as a child killer like me?
Then again, I am all too familiar with this act of yours. Like all white coats, you’d say anything to get answers that may justify my prison term. I don’t believe for a second that you’ve ever looked into the eyes of true evil, or you’d have known that I was only doing the right thing.
God, it is my child I’m talking about. My blood. When did I become like this? He was no more than seven years of age, and the sole remnant memory of my late wife. I miss him, more than you know. But if you had seen his horrible face that night of the full moon, right before he had blinded me with his claw…
Only the dead wouldn’t have fought back, and men like me don’t die easy. The next thing I learnt was the haunting sensation, of my serrated knife sinking into young flesh and soft bones.
If only I knew who turned my son into that monster, I would…
I know that look on your face. It says it all. Hopeless, delusional, insane. But crazy is how man have always labelled the inexplicable. Rituals, the Big Bang, and human evolution. All mysteries with answers that take a little imagination and a leap of faith.
Just like werewolves.
Now, fair’s fair. You wouldn’t let me do all the talking, would you, Doc? There are so many things I want to know about you. After all, there must be a reason why you had so desperately wanted to take on my case. Besides, every time I think about that night, I seem to recall a little more.
So, tell me. What is it about your interest in a man like me? How did you get that dirt I see beneath your nails? And I think we will call it even, if you could answer me this. What were you doing there outside my home, that Tuesday night?
Daily Prompt: Commit