“Because I came from you, does that mean I’m capable of killing? That I’ll be addicted to blood? That I’ll get off on torturing people?”
The kid had questions.
I didn’t blame him.
He’d only heard one side, and it wasn’t mine.
“Why did you hate my mother?”
Now, that was a story worth telling.
But, to do that, I had to bring the kid back to the very beginning.
When the killing and the blood and the torture had all started.
When I was truly happy.
When I was first called a Monster.
A Prisoned Spinoff Duet, #3