Before he could come any closer, an older officer grabbed his arm and pulled him back.
"Calm down. Let him speak. He doesn’t seem mentally unstable. He didn’t try to run after committing these murders, so there’s probably more to this than we think."
The young officer hesitated, his jaw tight with resentment. "You’re saying he has a valid reason for wiping out his own family? What could possibly justify that?"
"Revenge," the older officer said quietly, his gaze fixed on me. "It’s got to be revenge."
For the first time, I felt a flicker of something close to acknowledgment. I met the older officer’s eyes, impressed by his intuition.
He was right. The motive wasn’t simple.
It had taken me 25 long years to uncover the truth—a truth so dark it had consumed me entirely.
When the officer finally agreed to my request, I let out a sigh of relief. The tension in my body eased just enough for the overwhelming exhaustion to take over. I collapsed to the ground, consciousness slipping away like water through my fingers.
In my dream, I was transported back to my childhood.
I stood in a tiny walker, clutching a Transformer in my small hands.
My parents trailed behind me, their faces lit with warm smiles.
For a fleeting moment, our family seemed perfect—like the happy ending of a story.
But the dream shifted. The warmth faded, replaced by my mother’s cold, indifferent voice:
"If you’re sick, you’re sick. Who doesn’t get sick? Stop making a fuss. No need to check. Trust me—I’ll find a doctor to see you at home."
My reply was cautious, almost pleading:
"Mom, I’m really in pain..."
"Mom, why have you changed so much since getting married?"
...
Suddenly, ice-cold water splashed onto my face, jolting me awake.
When I opened my eyes, I was being wheeled into a hospital corridor. My body ached, and my mind was clouded, but the cold voice of a policeman cut through the haze:
"Elysia is in there," he said, pointing to the intensive care unit. "Look at what you’ve done to her. Look at what you’ve cut her into!"
His tone grew harsher. "She hasn’t woken up yet, so how can she talk to you? You’ve seen her now like you wanted—so tell us your motive!"
I dragged myself toward the glass door of the ward, each step heavy with exhaustion. Through the glass, I saw Elysia’s pale, lifeless face on the bed.
Quietly, I shook my head. "I’ll only tell Elysia. If I wanted her dead, I would’ve killed her at home."