"You did it again huh?"

I looked at my blood-stained clothes, bile rising to my mouth from the nauseating scent of blood. After what felt like an eternity, I emptied the little that was left in my stomach. Yet, the pit of my stomach didn't stop churning.

In the dimly lit bathroom, steam filled the air as I reclined in the clawfoot bathtub, and immersed myself in warm water. The crimson liquid escaped from my bloodstained hands and clothes, diluting in the bathwater. And slowly a sense of relief washed over me, as if the world's burdens were being cleansed away drop by drop. I tried to relax my tainted body as I closed my eyes and lay there still, taking in the sweet aroma of the scented candles that trickled through my nostrils.

Unfortunately, the peace didn't last long as the memories of what happened no more than an hour ago flashed before my eyes, igniting an unsettling sensation that crept its way across my entire being. It was as though a thousand tiny legs scurried beneath my skin, their constant movement sending waves of repulsion through every nerve ending. I began scrubbing my hands, desperately trying to rid myself of the crawling sensation that seemed to seep into my very pores.

"Dammit!"

I couldn't help but curse aloud as I resigned myself to the torment, allowing the repulsive feeling to consume me, becoming an indelible part of my existence.

Stepping out of the bathtub, water cascaded off my body as I wrapped a towel around my waist and caught my reflection in the mirror. The dim light cast shadows over my chiselled muscles, and the scratches on my arms stood out vividly, thin red trails that marked my skin like the tally of my sins. My eyes drifted to the scar on my back, a twisted reminder of my past.

I walked towards the drawing room, my bare feet treading softly on the cold marble floor. The chill seeped through my skin, a stark contrast to the warmth of the bathrobe wrapped tightly around me. The room exuded an air of grandeur, with luxurious furnishings, every corner, nook and cranny, meticulously embellished with the trappings of wealth, the fortunes I earned through a life seeped in sin, my hands tainted by the stains of greed and corruption.

The illusionary fortress of happiness I created with my wealth, had become a golden cage, trapping me within its gilded confines.

Amidst the lavishly decorated chambers, there lay a massive flat-screen television adorning one wall. Tottering my way towards the centre of the room, I sank into the plush cushions of the lavish sofa, a sigh of contentment escaping my lips. I stretched my legs, feeling the velvety softness of the upholstery against my skin, and settled deeper into the comfort it offered. With a flick of my wrist, I grasped the remote control, and with a press of a button, the massive television screen sprang to life.

As I continued to change the channels, no particular sight caught my attention, except one. My eyes were fixated on the television screen, which blared breaking news about a surge in murder cases plaguing the city. 'Another victim discovered—a prominent and wealthy conglomerate brutally stabbed to death, his heart pierced by a sharp object ' it said.

A sinister grin crept across my face, my eyes glinting with a twisted delight. The laughter erupted from me, echoing through the empty room. It was a chilling, maniacal sound that reflected the darkness lurking within my mind. My laughter morphed into uncontrollable scratching, my nails digging into my own flesh, leaving thin red trails. It was a peculiar habit of mine, a manifestation of frustration. As I scratched at my arms, my mind teetered on the edge of madness. The thrill of the kill, the power I felt in taking another's life, and yet the repulsiveness I felt after committing such grave sins— had consumed me. The scent of blood still clung to the air and sent shivers down my spine, mingling with the stench of my madness. I sat there, surrounded by the echoes of the breaking news of murder, my descent into darkness seemed inevitable.

My phone startled me from my twisted thoughts. I glanced at the screen, my heart skipping a beat when I recognized the caller ID. It was a number I had saved as "Chairman (Master)" a contact I rarely heard from but knew all too well. Taking a deep breath, I reluctantly answered the call, trying hard to conceal my fear, and my distress but alas! my voice betrayed a tremor of fear and submission. "Yes," I muttered, my tone filled with resigned obedience, as if I were conversing with a dark force I could never escape.

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"Ashwin Nair" a low, raspy voice emanated from the other end with a chilling familiarity; carrying an air of dominance that sent shivers down my spine.

"Your acts are on Television, huh? oh my dear Ashwin, aren't you enjoying this a little too much?" The voice praised me, but in a twisted manner, as if deriving pleasure from his vile acts, as he continued in hushed tones, divulging details about my next target. I had become a pawn, a puppet dancing to the whims of a sadistic mastermind who revelled in chaos and was I happy with it? maybe not so much, but did I like doing the deed? the answer is already evident. As the conversation drew to a close, 'Master' issued a final command, a twisted order that I knew I had no choice but to obey. The fate of the person had been sealed, his/her life hanging by a thread.

The call ended as my eyes followed a small fly crawling across the ceiling, with an incessant buzzing that echoed through the room. I hurled the object—my mobile phone—towards the elusive fly perched innocently on the wall. The once-pristine mobile splintered into countless pieces, scattered across the floor like a mosaic of despair.

Silence once again filled the room.

"Weak" I muttered. Neither the fly nor the mobile phone could survive my impulsive actions, how pitiful to meet their end in such a futile way. " Ha! " a chuckle escaped my lips as I rested the back of my neck against the plush upholstery, feeling the comforting support seep into my muscles. Closing my eyes, I allowed the darkness to envelop my vision, shutting out the distractions of the world.

As I sat in my opulent prison, the silence was suddenly shattered by the insistent ring of the doorbell. I opened my eyes slowly, the plush comfort of the sofa reluctant to let me go. For a moment, I wondered if I should even answer. But something tugged at me, a feeling of inevitability that I couldn't ignore.

I made my way to the door. I swung it open to reveal Detective Rajiv Mehra; The old man in his late 50s, standing on the threshold. His sharp eyes, hardened by years of chasing criminals, scanned me from head to toe. 

"Ashwin," he greeted, his voice carrying a mixture of suspicion and familiarity. "I hope I'm not interrupting anything."

"Detective Mehra," I responded, forcing a smile. "To what do I owe the pleasure?"

"We need to talk," he said, his tone making it clear that it wasn't a request. He stepped inside without waiting for an invitation.

I closed the door and followed him into the drawing room. Mehra's eyes roamed over the luxurious furnishings, taking in every detail as if they held the secrets he was searching for. He finally settled on the sofa, his gaze piercing through me.

"There's been another murder," he began, watching for my reaction. "A prominent businesswoman. Brutally stabbed."

I felt a shiver run down my spine but managed to keep my expression neutral. "That's tragic," I said, trying to sound genuinely concerned.

Mehra leaned forward, his eyes narrowing. "You knew him, didn't you?"

I hesitated, my mind racing. "We might have crossed paths at a few events. It's hard to keep track of everyone in our circles."

"I see." Mehra didn't look convinced. "And where were you last night?"

The question hung in the air, heavy with implication. I felt the walls closing in, the lines between my two selves blurring dangerously.

"I was here," I said, my voice steady. "Alone."

"Alone?" Mehra echoed, raising an eyebrow. "No witnesses?"

I forced a laugh. "I live alone, Detective. It's not unusual for me to spend my evenings by myself."

Mehra leaned back, his eyes still fixed on me. "You know, Ashwin, sometimes people with dark secrets manage to hide them well. But eventually, the truth has a way of coming out."

It felt as though he saw right through me, understanding the twisted turmoil within. There was an undertone to his statement, something almost akin to pity. Was he warning me or simply giving me a heads-up about the inevitable downfall that awaited?

I could feel the other presence within me stirring, a dark whisper at the edges of my mind. I clenched my fists, willing myself to stay in control.

"I have nothing to hide," I said, meeting his gaze. "If there's anything you need from me, you only have to ask."

Mehra stood up, a faint smile playing on his lips. "I'll keep that in mind. But remember, I'm watching you, Ashwin. I always am."

As he turned and walked to the door, he paused briefly before stepping out. "Take care of yourself," he said, the faintest hint of compassion in his voice. "Sometimes the darkness can be overwhelming."

I closed the door behind him and leaned against it, my heart pounding. The encounter had left me rattled, and I could feel the other presence within me pushing against the boundaries of my control.

"You should have let me handle him," the voice whispered, its tone seductive and dangerous.

"No," I muttered, my voice shaking. "I can handle this."

"You can't protect us forever," it taunted. "Eventually, I'll have to come out."

I sank to the floor, my head in my hands. The internal struggle was tearing me apart, and I didn't know how much longer I could keep it at bay. The dark urges, the thrill of the hunt, and the intoxicating power—it was all a part of me, a part I couldn't deny.