They say that killing is illegal.
I say sometimes it's a necessity.
I'm not a killer, I'm a judge. A judge for people, whom the law couldn't reach. I am a judge, maybe unusual but one nevertheless.
𝗜 𝗮𝗺 𝗮 𝗵𝗶𝘁𝘄𝗼𝗺𝗮𝗻.
They call me a murdere...
A new character (Nicole) is going to be mentioned in this chapter. She'll be introduced later and everything will be explained.
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🎴𝚃𝚑𝚊𝚗𝚔 𝚢𝚘𝚞 𝚏𝚘𝚛 𝚛𝚎𝚊𝚍𝚒𝚗𝚐🎴
🎴𝚅𝚘𝚝𝚎&𝚌𝚘𝚖𝚖𝚎𝚗𝚝🎴
🎴𝙴𝙽𝙹𝙾𝚈🎴
🎲 ✯ 🎲 ✯ 🎲
"We all are products of our past, but we don't have to be prisoners of it."
🎲 ✯ 🎲 ✯ 🎲
[Y/N's POV]
I lazily open my eyes feeling the soft filaments of a carpet under my fingerprints. As I lift my head I realize I'm in a large corridor, red carpet covering every inch of the floor, dark green and red wallpapers cover the walls as a massive crystal chandelier hangs in the middle of the high ceiling illuminating the huge paintings on the walls.
My attention drifts to one particular painting, which is covering the whole wall. On the large canvas is painted a family of four. A slender man in a black tuxedo, black shining hair slicked back neatly as his emerald eyes glow while he smiles widely, dignity and authority radiating from his posture.
An elegant woman with blonde hair and soft, feminine features, dressed in a white dress is standing right next to him, smiling like her husband. Green diamond earrnings and necklace embellish her soft pale skin.
Between them there's a teenage boy with blonde hair like his mother's and green gleaming eyes like his father's, he too is smiling, while holding his little sister's hand next to him. She's not older than three with blonde hair, darker than her brother's but with the same green shining eyes, she too is smiling.
A kind of smile that lasts as long as the camera flashes. Fake.
At the first glance, the blood relationship between them is obvious. The children inherited the most striking features of their parents, blonde hair, and bright green eyes. The portrait itself is pure perfection, it seems like a royal family portrait in an ancient castle.
Delightful isn't it?
But sickening when you know it never took place in real life, nauseate when you know it's the same mask the family showed to everyone. The girl in the portrait never once in her life saw her mother. why? You may ask. Her mother died while giving her birth. The girl in the portrait never saw her father smiling genuinely, at least never to her.
