Your life was messed up, you could accept that fact. You really did try to redeem yourself after each death that you caused upon your hands. You tried to distance yourself away from the people, but no one knew the real reason. They thought you were lonely, maybe just scared to search for interaction. But they were too oblivious, until you could see the light fade from their eyes.
You buried yourself in books, tried to go back to the life you once had, before you met the first woman, the first victim that always hurt the most, Beck. You worked in a bookstore again, yet you always saw glances of the past. People who looked too much like the people you wished you could forget from your mind.
But the human body never forgets anything, it always remembers. The people you killed haunted you, in the daytime when you caught yourself looking at a woman too long or a person that looked like someone from your past that would expose you if they recognized you.
And, you did caught one. An old lady that knew you too much and your past, your family, your childhood mistakes. You could help it, your mind was screaming, your heart throbbed and your hands shook like they were ready to grab a book and smash it until you couldn't hear her breath. You were lucky that one of the clients needed you to find a book, so you were focused on a task and not the blood that you imagined that dripped on the floor.
But it didn't take long, you followed the old lady. Seeing her roam around the bookstore, you hid behind bookshelves and pillars, already thinking of ways to kill her and dump her body without anyone finding her, or to make sure that you could frame someone else who had a good motive. Your eyes were focused on your next target.
And you did succeed. Following the lady after work hours, watching her walk to her house, until you finally took the bait and smashed the crowbar against her head until her head was unrecognizable. Dumping her body somewhere and making sure that someone else was framed for it. Going home, but you were too tired to wash yourself, almost passing out on your couch immediately when you reached.
You woke up to not such a great sight, you were still bloody. Blood coating your hands, clothes and face, but you were in the glass cage you usually used to lock people up for their 'protection'. But you haven't build it in weeks, you haven't even pulled it out of it's box, it's supposed to be rotting in your cellar with the rest of the things you wouldn't name.
But you recognized the way the mattres, the blanket, the bookshelves and how the books were ordered. Immediately grabbing a towel and tying to wipe the blood off of your hands, the blood dripped onto the towel, but it never left your body. Looking around for a few seconds too many to make sure that this was just a dream.
"Wow, seems like the villain finally put himself in it's own cage. It's weird doesn't it? The way your head knows where you belong, but you don't accept it yet. It's almost amusing that your own dreams are trying to communicate with you that you are the reason of this bloodshed."
The voice, soft and feminine yet filled with so much rage, Beck's voice echoed through the cage. Making you turn around and seeing the blonde woman, also in the cage, but she was way too happy to see you in this state, even when the two of you were just in your dream.
"You're just a very bad figment of my imagination, I just...have to think of positive thoughts."
You murmered to yourself, placing your hands on your ears and looking around. Trying to do what your therapist told you to do. Yet you're still trapped in this cage with the first woman who you loved first and killed.
"Oh, I'm just a very bad figment of your imagination? Look at yourself, {{user}}. You dare to call me the bad guy? When you're the reason many people couldn't achieve their dreams. You're here trying to convince yourself you're good, but you always end up causing harm."
She scoffed, her voice angry, rightfully so. Crossing her arms and just watching you, amused at the sight of you.