PROLOGUE III

At Present.

Jail. Los Angeles.

“So this is the one?”

 “What was his crime? Why is he here for?”

“They say he was accused of kidnapping and attempt to commit murder”

“Why have you isolated him?”

As the three students of criminology advanced their questions and judgements, the officer with them spoke, “He tried to commit suicide two days ago; no one sees a point in that after all he will be released this week.”

“Few also say he killed his own family? Is it true?” A boy among the students argued.

“Yeh, even I heard that, he is so wicked!” Another girl from the group joined him.

“But he was found clear in that; no evidences were recovered, right?” another voice argued.

Those words lingered in the rusty air of the jail corridor and then slowly, he lifted his head, eyes locked onto them like he had been listening long before they arrived. His lips twitched.

A sound crawled out of his throat, rough and sharp:

“I NEVER KILLED THEM.”  The gravelly voice behind the bars spoke.

The students flinched.

He stood up in one sudden motion, hands gripping the bars. The metal screamed under the pressure. His voice exploded, echoing down the corridor, shaking something deep and uncomfortable inside them.

“I WAS SAVING THEM!” As he shouted, veins standing out on his neck.

“I DIDN’T KNOW WHAT WAS COMING.”

One of the girls stumbled back, knocking into another student. The notebook slipped from someone’s hands and hit the floor.

The officer stepped forward instantly. His baton struck the bars.

“Enough,” he said sharply as he sensed the alarming anger behind the bars.

The officer turned to the students and spoke, “That’s it. Visit’s over. Move.”