He wanted to believe that the room he was confined in was bigger than it actually was. He smushed himself into a corner, only to see that the other corner across from him wasn't far enough.

He distinctly knew something was wrong because his head was heavy enough to feel it happening. His neck was slipping away from the position of least resistance. And he was slowly losing his breath and clarity, like he had just dive-bombed into a pool without closing his eyes at the rushing of water.

They were going to let him out at anytime now. The door would open, he knew that. After all, a modern and lawful society wouldn’t treat him this severe of a punishment even if he was a criminal. Otherwise, the general public would go crazy at the news of any unjust treatment to one of their own.

But as time continued for everyone equally; it was especially harsh on him in this clock-less and windowless room. He was put away like a used toy into a storage unit, forgotten until someone decides to rummage through the place for unknown treasures.

He painfully wanted to run up to the door, pounding like a madman. To confess all the sins the police wanted to hear from him. If only to move the process forward, expediting himself to prison, then so be it.

However, there would be no going back on that decision. He cleaned up the murder scene in his bedroom, and removed the body. There shouldn’t be any evidence for him to be done in.

I’m perfect, I’m perfect … p’fect … ‘ect … m. Those words monotonously bubbled in his head, coming undone, making less and less sense as he continued holding his own together.

Without warning, the door whined open. “Come with me,” someone called out.

He stood up without any hesitation and followed in step of the officer. They passed though halls, the same desk area where he first arrived, and then out through the main entrance. He wasn’t being led out in cuffs like how a convicted criminal should be while transferring somewhere else. It was almost as if he was a normal citizen leaving the police station after filing a report.

He sat in the backseat of a cop car, but where was this officer taking him?

The cop wasn’t too interested in making conversation and just drove silently into a familiar neighborhood. The officer opened the door, “Get out.”

He stepped out of the vehicle, his back to the car as it sped away. He could see in this brightly lit street, from the houses armed with light fixtures that point directly into their neighbors’ properties, that the door to his house was busted open. Held upright by one of its hinges; but some people would call it broken, nonetheless.

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He let himself in. The foyer and the decorations were just as he had left them. He made a beeline to the bedroom. As expected, the body was missing, right where he had taken it away. His unpacked suitcase was missing as well, but that wasn’t from his own doing. He was disappointed because he specifically came back to this house twice just to retrieve it.

He searched through the closet for a bag and folded several of his clothes neatly inside. With the clothes on his back and more clothes in his backpack, there were no more belongings of his left to take.

He walked down the stairs but paused mid-step. Water was running somewhere in the house, followed by the squeak of fancy shoes on tiled floors. Perhaps, the ghost of his wife was cooking dinner at one in the morning.

He reached the foyer without taking one look behind him.

“Are you just going to leave without kissing me goodbye?” a smooth, rich voice called out.

He stilled, not expecting a confrontation. He turned around, “Bye honey, I’m leaving for work. Make sure dinner is ready when I get back.”

An athletic man with gelled black hair chuckled, “I take it you’re not staying around to chat?”

“No need. I’m going,” he wanted to get out of there.

“I was going to tell you that I’m the reason you don’t have a record with the police. I’m going to be taking your thanks right now,” the unnamed man perked up while expecting a reply.

“Nobody these days care for unnecessary lip service,” he shook his head.

“I, indeed wanted to hear your gratitude, but I guess, I’d rather much take your time: 24/7 of it for the rest of your life,” the man stated without so much of a stutter.

“You’re really weird, you know that?” he huffed out.

“I’m one of a kind, special, handsome. Oh, and I work with an organization that deals with monsters like the one you killed. But that last part isn’t important. See my good looks? I can see you begging to be friends with me because of that. But we can be work buddies for now.”

“…” he didn’t know what to say at that.

The admittedly handsome man continued, “You’re cascading a mysterious aura belonging to a villain with a backstory, and you have personalities flipping like a dimmer switch that a child got their hands on. It has to be you. Oh, and you’re super attractive. That last part is the most important to us making a team.”

“I already feel like I don’t get to say 'no' to this.” After all, he concluded that it was strange how the police let him go. They had already seen the contents of the suitcase, and most likely suspected him of his missing wife and baby. “Alright I’ll do it.”

“Great!" the man clapped. "I’m Shin Gangaji. Nice to work with you, Hansen Yohan,” he offered his blemish-free hand.

“What sort of parents named you ‘puppy?’” he complained but shook his hand to that.

They were smiling at each other, but Hansen knew it wouldn’t work out to how his captor wanted him. While investigating these monsters, that is when the opportunity of an "unfortunate accident," would befall, and he would leave this puppy dead in the ditch. And once again, he'd be untraceable as he would be starting anew with a family somewhere in the world.