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Joseph flexed his large tattooed hands— opening and closing them, rolling his wrists around as the cold steel of the tight handcuffs used to secure him to the table dug into his wrists and made them sore leaving red indentations in them. It was going on three hours he'd been chained up to that table like an animal, left in an empty interrogation room to succumb to his own thoughts and guilty conscious — a tactic used by detectives to crack criminals but the joke was on them because he didn't have a conscious.

What they didn't know, was how powerful Joseph's mind was. After so many years of mental anguish and torture her molded his mind to be the strongest part of his body. He did something that not very many people were capable of, mastering the art of dissociation. Joseph was able to flip his mind off and on like a light switch— though physically there, he'd be mentally absent. It enabled him to not feel the feeling of guilt, of remorse. It enabled him to not feel anything— to stay sane in most situations where people were on the brink of insanity, on the brink of mental break. It enabled him to be calm and collected. It enabled him to think more clearly in times of extreme stress.

Though his mind could be a mental hell at times from all the years of trauma he sufficed as a child, it also served him as a safe place where he was able to hide himself where no one could get to him, like putting up an emotional barrier.

Looking around the room, he spotted a surveillance camera to the rear left of him. He stared into the lens knowing there was someone on the other end staring back at him, watching him.

Detective Miller folded his arms over his chest watching Joseph through the departments closed circuit television, observing his body language but Joseph didn't show much of that. He sat still like a statue and it frustrated Miller. " What are we waiting for?" Angelina asked, removing her eyes from the grainy screen to her mentor. " Is someone going to question him?"

" Burk, get in there. I want to watch this," Miller instructed another detective to go in and interrogate him, his eyes not leaving the screen. Miller had 20+ years on the homicide squad and had worked in close proximity with hundreds of criminals. He'd thought he'd seen it all but he hadn't met Joseph yet. Miller could tell there was something different about Joseph, something off yet something that intrigued him. He wasn't like other criminals and Miller could tell by his demeanor and body language.

The sound of the door opening and closing prompted Joseph to look up, a relatively young looking detective entered and sat across from Joseph with a manila colored folder in his hand. " My name is Detective Burk and I'll be conducting your interrogation today," Burke said, taking a pen from his suit pocket and clicking it.

Joseph stared at him silently with a scowl on his face, tilting his head to the side as he watched Burk jot a few things down with his ballpoint pen. A faint smirk tugged on Joseph's lips, he could smell fear like a shark could smell blood in the water and he could tell Burk was nervous to be sitting across from him. Burk cleared his throat before looking up and meeting Joseph's cold intense glare, his hooded brown eyes so dark they almost looked black.

" Can you start with your name for the record?" Burk asked, adjusting his red tie.

Joseph continued to stare at him for a few more seconds letting the eerie silence in the room linger on for a little longer before parting his lips to speak. " Joseph Combs, June 17th, 1994,"

" Thank you. Joseph can you tell me where you were the night of December 5th, 2021?"

" Joseph Combs, June 17th, 1994," Joseph said again, his eyes piercing into Burks blue orbs like a sharp knife. If looks could kill, Burk would be dead. Burk furrowed his brows, twisting his head ever so slightly out of confusion before letting out a small chortle.

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