One year in prison

That's just long enough to turn an innocent man into a real criminal ..... and a criminal into a real monster. In the dark dungeons, you smell nothing but shit and hear nothing but your own voice fucking with your head. You become incapable of feeling either hunger or pain and you disgust the scum around until you accept the fact that you are one of 'em.

Getting away with a political assassination was never easy. But i knew they would never let me go waste like that.

They know I am irreplaceable.

Return of the demon

One year in prison.

That's just long enough to turn an innocent man into a real criminal ..... and a criminal into a real monster. In the dark dungeons, you smell nothing but shit and hear nothing but your own voice fucking with your head. You become incapable of feeling either hunger or pain and you disgust the scum around until you accept the fact that you are one of 'em.

Getting away with a political assassination was never easy. But i knew they would never let me go waste like that.

They know I am irreplaceable.

2:25 a.m.
“You are weak but your weakness is rare”.
These words still echo in the deep recesses of my mind. I remember few years back, after many tiring cross-examinations, hypnotic interviews & idiotic tests they revealed that my weakness went beyond the usual categories of ‘greed’, ‘thrill’ and ‘lust’. And even in my semi-conscious state I did not fail to notice the sadistic smile on their face as if it was something they were hunting for a long time.
It’s the two hours from now that I struggle the most every night. This anxiety would engulf me like the mist of Kvaldir. It will play tranquilizing music and at the same time flash memories from the unpleasant past. And yet every morning I wake up with a different nauseating feeling.
Funny, ancient pharaohs looked forward to the end of the world. Hoping the corpses would rise and reclaim the hearts from the golden jars.
Tomorrow is important and I am holding breath in anticipation.

9:30 a.m.
My head is aching with vivid memories of the incident last night. I can still smell fresh blood. The face of that man just before collapsing is flashing before my eyes. I have wondered what it is like to be afraid? What triggers fear? Is it the pain or the threat of pain? And how different is it from anxiety?
One thing is certain. It is based on illusion and future thinking. “What if there is someone behind that curtain?” “What if his threat is real?” Some cry with desperation and some beg for mercy with a choking voice. Actions can never be predicted in such situations.
There’s only one thing in common - they are all afraid.

11:40 p.m.
I stabbed him three times in the stomach.
I could still see parts of his body quiver for minutes before he succumbed to death. He was a strong man but his face was pale with the same expression – fear. This time it took more than usual and the death wasn’t clean either.
I loved it.