A secondary narrator-
the interrogation room was filled with absolute silence. The room was small and lit by fluorescent lights. In the center was a metal table with chairs on either side. Only a file rested on the table. The police officer closed the file, placed his hands on the table, and looked at the man sitting across from him.
"Why did you do it?" he asked. His voice was flat—not angry, not soft—just expecting an answer.
Darian lifted his eyes. They were red, clearly from lack of sleep. His lips trembled. "For my brother," he said almost in a whisper.
The officer stared at him for a few seconds. He took a deep breath as if weighing the weight of that answer. "You've said that many times," he said. "But what were they going to do to your family that made you kill them to protect your brother?"
Darian shifted uneasily in his seat. He swallowed hard. "Will you… believe me?" he asked.
The officer's eyebrows furrowed slightly. "Tell me what happened. If we find evidence, maybe your brother will forgive you. Your sentence might be lighter."
Darian bowed his head. He said nothing for a while.
Breaking the silence, the officer raised his eyebrows. "So," he said, "you did this without being sure?"
Darian shook his head no.
The officer leaned forward a bit in his chair. His voice lowered but was firm. "Look… I understand you want to protect your brother. But why did you dismember their bodies? And now you need to tell me what your family was trying to do."
Darian's eyes suddenly changed. The fragile look was gone. His tears stopped, and his gaze turned cold. He parted his lips but stopped himself from speaking.
"He doesn't know what kind of family we have," he said. His voice carried both anger and broken resignation.
The officer frowned, confused. He slowly stood up straight from his chair. He was more alert now. "What do you mean?" he asked, his voice both curious and tense.
Darian opened his mouth to reply. But at that moment, a gunshot rang out in the room.
The sound echoed sharply, deafeningly loud. A dark, deep hole appeared in the center of Darian's forehead. His eyes remained open as if about to speak, but his body slumped backward into the chair.
The officer reflexively looked for his gun, but it wasn't in his hand. The social worker was holding a gun, expressionless. He lowered the barrel to the floor. Darian was dead from a single bullet.
The officer stared in shock. "Monan?" he said.
Monan raised his head and smiled. The officer jumped up quickly. But what stood before him was not human. Monan's eyes were bulging out of their sockets, swinging loosely on his cheeks. The sight made the officer's stomach turn.
Footsteps came from outside the door. Police were trying to enter. The officer realized—if the door opened, not only he but everyone inside would die.
"Don't come in!" he shouted.
Monan's smile faded. His face turned icy serious. "I told those people from the start that a second child would be harmful," he said. But the voice wasn't female—it was a deep, echoing male voice.
The officer's eyes widened. Monan smiled again, as if enjoying his fear. Then his body began to change. His arms and legs grew longer, his hair shortened. His shoulders hunched, and his body became grotesque and terrifying.
The officer backed away slowly. His voice trembled but he kept shouting, "Get everyone out! Not a single person should stay!"
Before he could finish, the creature lunged at him and tore off his right arm in one swift motion.
The officer screamed in pain. The walls of the precinct echoed with his cry. Blood dripped rapidly to the floor. Still, he kept yelling, "Get out quickly! If you come in, I'll report you to the chief!"
Outside, the police were evacuating civilians. Hearing that, the officer relaxed slightly. But when he looked back at the creature, he saw its yellow, sharp fangs. Its mouth was open wide enough to swallow the officer's head in one bite.
That was the last thing he saw.
rian's pov
The gunshot shattered the tense silence, echoing through the cold hallways. My breath caught in my throat. I was sitting just outside the interrogation room, every nerve on edge, every second stretching unbearably long.
My heart hammered painfully in my chest as I strained to listen—heard the sharp intake of breath from the officer, then silence, then a chilling scream that froze my blood.
Suddenly, shouting erupted from the corridor. "Get out! Everyone get back! Clear the area!" The urgent voices of police officers rang out, their commands sharp and frantic.
A cold wave of dread washed over me. I wanted to bolt inside, to run to Darian's side, but something held me back—fear, disbelief, helplessness. I gripped the edge of the chair tightly, nails digging into my palms.
"Darian," I whispered into the empty air, voice trembling. "Please be okay. Please…"
The footsteps pounding down the hall grew louder, frantic shouts echoing from within. "Move! Move! Get away from the door!" the officers yelled desperately.
I wanted to scream, to yell for help, but all I could do was sit, paralyzed by the horror unfolding just behind that door.
My mind raced, replaying every moment, every word. Why? Why did it have to come to this?
Tears welled up, blurring my vision. The weight of the unknown was suffocating, but deep inside, a fire ignited—a fierce, desperate hope that maybe, somehow, I could still make a difference.