Interrogation

Cillian's eyes fluttered open, his senses muddled as he tried to make sense of his surroundings. The dull ache coursing through his body seemed to radiate from every fiber of his being. He groaned, his head pounding in rhythm with his heartbeat. Blinking against the harsh light, he realized he wasn't in a hospital room, as he would have expected after the blow he'd taken.

His confusion deepened as he surveyed his surroundings. The sterile, featureless walls and the single table and chair in the center of the room felt more like an interrogation chamber than a place of healing. The last thing he remembered was the argument with his family – his parents and his brother. The memory was a foggy blur, fragmented and distant.

suddenly the door opened , breaking Cillian's trance. Two figures entered, their footsteps echoing in the stark room. The older one, Inspector Ramirez, exuded an air of authority, while the younger, Detective Foster, had an intensity in his eyes that sent a shiver down Cillian's spine.

Cillian's voice trembled as he addressed them, his throat dry and scratchy. "Where... Where am I? What's happening?"

Inspector Ramirez's lips tightened into a thin line as he regarded Cillian, his gaze unwavering. "You're in an interrogation room, Mr. Cillian. My name is Inspector Ramirez, and this is Detective Foster. We have questions."

Cillian's heart pounded in his chest, each beat a reminder of the growing unease within him. "Questions? About what?"

Detective Foster's voice was as cold as steel. "About the events that took place in your family home, Mr. Cillian."

Images flickered before Cillian's mind's eye, disjointed and fragmented. An argument, voices raised, emotions running wild. His family—his parents, his brother—all of them a part of the chaos. His father's rage, a searing slap that sent him flying across the room

Cillian winced at the memory, the pain of impact resonating anew. "I... I remember arguing with them. But after that..."

Inspector Ramirez leaned in, his voice measured and stern. "After that, Mr. Cillian, you unleashed unimaginable violence upon your family."

Cillian recoiled, his eyes wide with shock and disbelief. "No! That's not possible. I would never..."

Detective Foster produced a small device, and a projected screen flickered to life, illuminating the room with chilling clarity. Cillian's heart sank as he watched the footage, his own actions unfolding before him in stark detail. He saw himself getting up unsteadly from the floor and walked towards his school bag and take out an injector from his bag, a substance he couldn't recall possessing and injecting something . Cillian felt his heavy heart as he watched himself doing things that he has no recollection of doing. But what followed that left cilian thinking he was having a nightmare .

His father, a D geade pioneer someone who could punch through a wall easily, strugglingto escape form his grasp. His mother and brother, desperately trying to subdue him, to no avail. He watched himself strangle his father, felt the weight of the moment as his father's life slipped away.

Tears blurred Cillian's vision as he witnessed the culmination of his actions. His mother's final, desperate scream pierced the air, the sound etching itself into his very soul. And then, the unthinkable—the image of his hands, stained with blood, impaling his own mother.

He watched with a shattered heart His brother's futile attempts to stop him, someone who killed two awakened people and the bone-chilling snap of bones breaking beneath his wrath. Cillian's own voice, warped by rage, filled the room as he delivered blow after merciless blow and finally with a horrific cruch snapping his brothers spine. Cillian stared at himelf standing beside his limp brothers body laughing maniacally , His brother's pain, his cries, the helplessness in his eyes—all of it seared into Cillian's consciousness.

The video concluded, leaving Cillian hollow and shaken. The room seemed to close in around him, the weight of his actions pressing down upon him like an insurmountable burden. He turned his gaze to the investigators, his voice a mere whisper. "I... I don't understand. I couldn't have..., this is all one big joke right ? "

Detective Foster's gaze remained unwavering, unyielding. "Unfortunately no, Mr. Cillian. your family is dead and you did it ."

Cillian felt the world crumbling arround him.

Cillian's fists clenched, nails digging into his palms as he struggled to make sense of the horrors he had witnessed. "But why? How... How could I have done that?"

Inspector Ramirez leaned forward, his voice unwavering. "That's what we need you to tell us, Mr. Cillian. We need an explanation"

Cillian's head spun with a whirlwind of emotions—rage, grief, disbelief—all of it colliding within him like a storm. He took a shuddering breath, his voice barely audible. "I... I don't know. i would never do such a thing .. I .."

Before Cillian could finish detective Foster interrupted him

"there is no point in denying it on top of the video there are blood tests showing the use of illegal enhancers and we even have reports from two pioneers with investigative powers corroborating what happend and ruling out any external intervention. The only thing remaining is whether you admit to it or not

so what will it be? "