*KNOCK…KNOCK…KNOCK,*

The sound of loud banging filled the busy mansion. Servants with worried faces were running around trying to pack their suitcases full of expensive things. While they ran around, one graceful tall man sat on a powder-pink chaise with a glass of champagne relaxing like nothing was happening. His long thick obsidian hair was spread out across the chaise like spilled ink. It spilled across the armrest, then onto the floor. His deep amber skin shined like gold against the powder-pink chaise. He wore a set of gray silk loungewear. His eyes were closed like he would go to sleep at any moment.

Lazy saw that, and she couldn’t relax at all for her young heir. She sighed and fidgeted with her hands as the banging got louder.

“Sir, please!” Lazy begged, and the young man opened his eyes. Lazy met the cold, mesmerizing eyes. Even after all the years of her raising the young man, she could never get over his eyes. His left eye was a striking clear gray while his right was a deep honey brown. His appearance alone could cause many wars. He took a sip from his glass that smelled of strawberry champagne before looking at Lazy.

“Did everyone get enough things to sell?” Lazy walked over and grabbed his hand.

“We can’t let you go to prison!” Lazy eyes were filled with tears. When the other servants heard Lazy, they all stopped in their place to look at their young heir. He looked at all of his people with a soft smile on his face. These people raised him, especially Lazy. She was the head maid and took care of him since he was a newborn. She was a kind person who served horrible people.

He sighed before putting down his glass. “I killed them with my own hands, and this is not the first time I have been in prison.” He then gestured around in the mansion he was living in. The servants silently cried as he talked. “Now, you guys need to go and remember to wait a few weeks before selling anything. And the most important thing, don’t wait around.” The young man whispered. “But?” “But nothing. I don’t want any of you working anymore, and you all promise me you won’t. Please take care of each other, especially Darling. He won’t make it without you and Henry. Okay Lazy?”

Lazy didn’t reply, so the young man looked at Henry, whose eyes were wet with tears, before nodding heavily. The young man stood up and hugged everyone before he walked all of his servants to the back door, as the banging got louder. They carried suitcases full of jewelry, clothing, and anything a pawn shop would take. They wiped their tears before taking one last look at their young heir. He watched them rush into the woods before closing the door again.

He walked back to his chaise and grabbed the bottle of champagne. He took a sip out of the bottle before pouring another glass. He checked himself out in the mirror, making sure to hide the purple and red bruises. He pushed his hair behind his ears and then smiled in the mirror before walking to the door. 

“Coming!” He shouted as he walked up to the doors. He opened the door right before the officer was about to hit the door again. “My goodness, you know it’s not very nice to knock on a single person's door this late in the evening. You’re gonna have my neighbors talking.” He then let a glamorous smile grace his lips, which dazed the two officers, making them not able to say anything for a minute before they were back to business.

“Are you sir Veda Éinrí Venom?” One officer asked.

“Yes, I am. Can I help you?”

“You’re under arrest for the brutal murder of thirty-four people, including your father.”

Veda looked at the officers with an expressionless face like he just wasn’t accused of murder. “Can I at least finish my drink?” 

The officers looked at each other, searching for an answer from each other. Veda rolled his eyes at their incompetence.

“Is it—” Veda cut the officer off. “It’s not glass if that’s what you’re worried about. Ugh, move.”

Veda pushed past the officers and walked outside. In front of his home, it was overflowing with neighbors, reporters, floating cameras, setups, and passersby. The cameras flashed, and people started to scream his name as soon as he stepped out onto his stone path. 

“It seems like you guys had a leak in your station,” Veda said with a smile. When he smiled, the people went wild, they screamed his name even more. Most of them were hurling insults, which was weird for the police officers, but Veda knew why. The people he killed were very wealthy characters who ran important things in the city, but some of them were just followers. Veda had an idea he was being targeted by a big boss because he killed one of his worthless underlings (in Veda’s eyes). 

As he walked down his stairs, the reporters rushed to send their hover mics his way. The mics clashed and fought with each other, making horrible sounds. Veda took a sip of his champagne, enjoying the strawberry citrus flavor, probably for the last time. With a smile, Veda poured the rest of the liquid on the mics. The mics twitched, twist then fell onto the hard stone path beneath Veda’s feet.

“So damn loud.” Veda then threw the glass at the feet of the reports then walked to the hover police car. What he did was made the entire street go quiet. The media controlled the government well, more like the wealthy heads do. But the media was like an extension of the wealthy heads. Disrespect them you were disrespecting their backers. The reporters changed into gremlins thirsting for blood. In just a second they hurried insults and wished death upon Veda. But he just laughed in their faces. He couldn't care less about them.

The media, and entrainment world, controlled the world. From their killing games broadcast on live TV to their blatant torture tournaments, they did every day. Society loved it, and they were eating it up, from the rich to the poor people they loved to see people worse off than them.

Veda blew kisses to everyone on his property, then slammed the door of the hover police car. The incompetent officers hurried to the car and rushed Veda to the police station.                                                                                          -----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------         

They pushed me into the station, and I received a couple of stares since I was still in my loungewear. The officers processed me quickly with ease before shoving me into a room. I sat down on the cold metal chair, crossed my legs, and tapped on the table while watching the door, waiting for anyone to walk in. A few minutes went by before a heavyweight detective walked in with a thick file in hand.

“Veda Éinrí Venom, what a lovely name. I’m Hamilton, now why did a beautiful boy like you do a mass poisoning of thirty-four people, then brutally mutilate twenty-three of them?” The detective said as he sat down.

“Oh, you know I was bored,” I said, emotionless.

“Oh, really?”

“Yes, what does a guy do when you’re chained to the wall like an interactive museum art piece with ten other people?”

Hamilton was silent as I said that with a smile on my face. He swallowed, then coughed as he glanced towards the two-way mirror, trying his best not to tip me off people were behind the mirror. But everyone knows about the mirrors in police stations. I laughed because I knew I was being recorded.

“So tell me, detective, do your friends behind the mirror like me?” Hamilton's deep-set eyes widen like a cow. He tried his best to take back control of the interrogation. “Anyway, why didn’t you try to call the police or try to escape?”

I laughed softly, and my voice echoed throughout the cold room. Making Hamilton feel embarrassed because he knew I was right.

“Help? You must be high if you think the police would help me. You guys hold no power compared to the rich and famous, plus some of you would have kidnapped me and do the same things. And a lot of you guys want to get on the good side of people with money and power.” I pushed my hair behind my ear and leaned in closer to the detective as he tried to find words to dispute my argument. I stared at Hamilton, but he couldn’t look me in my eyes. He was stunned by me. Every time he wanted to say something, air just kept coming out, so he decided to change the subject.

“*COUGH*… it seems this is not your first crime. You have a long history, Veda. From the age of fourteen, you started your crime career with robbery, then went to the big leagues with forgery and drugs. What made you do all of this?” I sighed, feeling tired of this. If anyone read what I went through, they would understand. I’m tired of telling people constantly what has happened to me.

“You have my entire history in your hands. You know why I did this … or is it because your friends want me to tell my sob story? Please tell your friends to hurry up and decide what horrible show I’m going to be on, or where I’m going.” I pushed off the table and crossed my legs again. With a smile on my face, I then turned to the two-way mirror and waved to Hamilton's friends behind the mirror. Hamilton started to sweat profusely. He nervously glanced at the two-way mirror before he quickly gathered my files, then booked it out of the room like his life depended on it.

I yawned, as I thought about what show I was going to be on. I didn’t watch a lot of TV so the last show I saw was “Game Board”. It was a series of classic games with a surprising twist of killing (not really surprising). The episode I watched had contestants play poker instead of betting chips. They bet body parts. Lucky or not, health care has advanced so far that you wouldn’t die even without your heart in your chest, and if you do, they can bring you back in a few minutes. Then I remembered “Island Survival” (the producers of these shows were very creative with the names.)  The premise is twenty people are on an abandoned island. Either they kill each other to be the last one alive, or form teams to fight against the countless waves of abominations the showrunners made from zombies to serial killers hunting them to social challenges.

As these types of shows became popular, the poor participants in those shows became celebrities. For being tortured, or killing others and this was just surface level for these shows. Everything in the world has become worse, in these recent years. But I didn’t have anything to care about in this world. The people I cared for were okay for the rest of their lives, so I was at peace. I have become distant from my emotions because of my upbringing; I had them, but I forced myself to stop feeling everything. My disgusting excuse of a father loved the way I reacted to the things he did to me, so I stopped. I don’t even remember what pain felt like anymore. I don’t know if that was a blessing or a curse.

As I thought about my unknown future, the sound of an air conditioner being turned on pulled me out of my thoughts. The smell of disinfectant filled the room and made my nose sting, but I recognized that scent very well. They wanted to knock me out, however, I developed a strong immunity to anesthetics not by my choice. I rolled my eyes before speaking calmly out loud.

“If you want to knock me out, you’re going to need something stronger than this.” 

I waited and minutes went by with nothing happening. With a huff, I got up and walked around the table to make myself exhausted. When that didn’t work, I did a couple of jumping jacks. I felt like a fool. After a while, I was out of breath. I took a couple of deep breaths, then I sat back down. My body began to feel heavy, so I kicked my feet up on the table. I closed my eyes and counted sheep to make myself sleepy. I did their job for them. I laughed, hoping I embarrassed the producers.

Finally, after the fifth sheep, I heard the door opening as I fell asleep.