"And when you see something that perfect, almost unnatural, you'd want to break it, right?"
Seemingly pondering whether he needed to answer, the assistant remained silent for a moment. He took his time until Damian Slate repeated the question, that he finally replied with an uneasy, tense tone.
And Damian Slate, seemingly oblivious to the unease in his assistant's voice, continued speaking as if nothing was amiss—or so it appeared from the voice recording.
"Yes, and that's what I did, I stepped on the gas with all my might and trampled on them."
"And you know what's hilarious?"
"The man, noticing at the last moment, tried to shield the woman and seemed to die instantly. But the woman, who didn't die right away, though barely conscious and in a terrible state, started crawling toward him, holding his hand and touching his face."
"You know? I was even moved myself and thought I should drive over her again, she shouldn't be left alone ."
"It's really not right!"
After shouting theatrically, his voice lowered again as he continued.
"In the end, before I could make my decision, she lost consciousness. Talk about disappointment!"
The voice recording continued, with Damian Slate reminiscing about his satisfaction and the overwhelming euphoria he felt at that moment, before casually returning to bragging about his other cars.
But Christian couldn't hear the rest. He couldn't register anything in his mind. His bloodshot eyes remained fixed on the screen, his chest heaving with barely contained fury as his hand clenched into a trembling fist.
A first, so tightly held, that his nails dug into his palms, drawing blood that dripped slowly onto the desk.
Everything fades with time.
Even if they don't disappear completely, they eventually leave behind only faint traces.
That was what he had believed until this moment.
He thought that, although he was determined to find the culprit responsible for the accident and make them pay, it was still a resolve no where near what he was feeling now.
He didn't feel himself boiling in furry before, after all.
Or perhaps his feelings had merely become stagnant, lying dormant and waiting for something to ignite them. And hearing this voice recording... it did just that.
Christian felt his once-dormant emotions ignite, burning brighter and hotter than ever, as if they intended to consume him along with their flames.
At first, Christian had truly believed it was just an accident, a hit-and-run by a cowardly culprit. He never imagined it was actually a murder.
A murder, committed by someone who would get drunk and blabber about it as if it were some grand achievement. Someone who spoke of it in that zealous tone, making it painfully clear that he wasn't just drunk on alcohol, he was even more intoxicated by the twisted satisfaction of what he had done.
If it wasn't like that, he wouldn't have gone out of his way to recount every detail of the incident, like some kind of twisted report, as if fearing someone might miss the full picture of his so-called "accomplishment."
Christian, unable to calm down even after time had passed, finally stood up. The suffocating tension in the room pressed down on him, and he decided to head to the roof to breathe in the fresh, open air.
But just as he was about to leave, he noticed his bleeding hand. He froze, staring at the crimson stains and the shallow crescent marks his nails had carved into his palm.
In the end, he just grabbed a handful of tissues, stuffing them against his wounded hand, and then left his room.
Now, standing on the roof of his house, watching the sun slowly set, with the oppressive heat of the weather pressing down on him, Christian didn't let himself focus on these things. Instead, he tried to calm himself and gather his thoughts.
'I can't do something impulsively, only to regret it later.'
'I should try to be even more cool-headed, more logical, in this kind of situation.'
Christian repeated these words to himself, as though he were trying to hypnotize himself, clinging desperately to reason and restraint, determined not to let himself make a rash mistake.
He felt like he was going crazy, after all.
More than an hour later, when the last ray of sunlight had barely faded and darkness began to settle in, a voice finally broke the silence.
"Chris, what are you doing here?"
Snapping out of his reverie at the sound of his sister's voice, the first thing, Christian thought about was how he should brush things aside, as he have no intention of letting her hear the voice recording.
"Nothing, just getting some air."
And Annabelle, observing her brother's expression, his forced smile, and the slightly angry tone in his voice, immediately knew something was wrong. Her expression darkened as she spoke.
"Chris, we've already talked a lot, both yesterday and today. Do you really plan to start hiding things from me again, just ?"
Annabelle did her best not to force her younger brother with her tone, but she also didn't want there to be any distance between them again. So, seeing him close his eyes and remain silent, she waited.
"I found evidence related to the incident with our parents."
"And it turns out it's a murder case, not an accident."
"So, I was shaken a little."
Christian tried to present the facts to his sister without bias, not trying to make things bigger or smaller than they were.
He felt like she was right after all, there was no need to hide things from her. It was just that he didn't want her to hear the voice recording.
As he'd thought, Annabelle seemed a little taken aback at first, but after a moment, she simply nodded and said in a calm tone.
"Well, I thought as much."
And Christian couldn't help but question this time.
"It's simple. It was a possibility since the accident happened, and I had thought the same with that policeman."
"Most importantly, I actually went to the place where the incident happened, once."
"And for it to be an accident, it felt a little unnatural."
"But since there was no evidence to prove that, it remained just a possibility, until you confirmed it now."
It was Christian's turn to be taken aback by his sister's logical conclusion, and he couldn't say anything in return.
So, seeing him , Annabelle was unable to watch him any longer, and came to his side, hugging him tightly. The embrace helped him more than anything else, as it seemed her presence was the only thing soothing enough for him in that moment.