Confessions Of A Demon: Scene 1

Camera: ON - Interrogation room

* There is an atmosphere of tension that lingers about the room, tension beyond comprehension. The small room holds nothing other than a plain metal table within its cold grey walls. Two stools are bolted to the floor. Along the left wall is a large glass window, tinted on the inside. Sitting at the table is Mark, a blonde haired man in his early thirties and an orange prison uniform. He looks brittle, but with a sort of strength flowing from inside him. Strength, and weakness. His hands are cuffed to the table.

- John enters the room.

* John is a tall dark haired man, combed neatly to the side and a well trimmed beard. Glasses rest on the bridge of his nose. He doesn't look much like a typical detective. There's more personality in him than the average person.

- John move to the table and lays down a folder before sitting down on the stool opposite of Mark. He looks at the prisoner, trying to remain expressionless and to hide his disgust.

John - I apologize, Mark. I would've brought flowers for you, maybe a card, but I didn't think about it.

- Mark smiles slightly, leaning backward a little. He shakes his head for a moments, still smiling.

Mark - A sense of humor. I like that.

John - Our conversation is being recorded, but no one is watching from behind the glass, just as you requested. It's just you and me.

Mark - You're a good writer, John, but your books never express much of your personality. I know you have one.

John - You don't know anything about my personality.

Mark - No, but we have time.

John - Eleven bodies, Mark. Eleven. That's eleven families out there, and ten of them don't have the body of their loved one. I'm not gonna sugar coat it for you. You are getting the death penalty. You don't have much time. And I definitely don't have time for your bullshit.

- Mark nods silently, staring at the top of the table. He looks up at John.

Mark - Do you hate me John?

John - I don't hate anyone. But I am disgusted by your kind.

- Mark gives a questioning look.

Mark - My kind?

John - Murderers make me sick.

Mark - You like your job, and you're good at it - I'll give you that. But what are you without it? You're nothing. You get off on the power that your job gives you, and the false sense of accomplishment. But each night you go home doubting yourself, asking yourself the same question over and over: am I really making a difference? Look John, at the end of the day you're just the pawn of a flawed system. In your third book you wrote about the Andy Jenkins case, the man you knew murdered his own son.

John - What about it?

Mark - You defended him in court because that's your job. But who is worse, the murderer or the man freeing him? You are no better than I am so stop the whole "high and mighty" thing.

- John strokes his beard for a moment and nods.

John - Point taken.

Mark - So I hear your on your fifth book now.

- John looks at the table, obviously irritated.

John - Yes.

Mark - What's it about?

John - Different cases that have effected me in a personal way.

Mark - Maybe I'll be in it.

John - I can't increase your fame, if that's what you mean.

Mark - No. I don't seek fame.

John - Than what do you seek?

Mark - I will explain soon enough.

- John takes a deep breath, trying to keep calm.

John - I need the locations of the bodies, Mark.

Mark - And you will get them, I promise.

John - The death penalty. That's where you stand.

Mark - Martin Luther King, Jr. said that a man who won't die for something is not fit to live.

John - You murdered ten people and never once left any evidence leading us to you. Then with the eleventh kill, you left us a body and hair samples from all the other ten victims. Not to mention your DNA under the victim's fingernails from the struggle. You wanted to get caught. But why? What are you dying for?

Mark - Ah, the million dollar question. But again, you are getting ahead of yourself, letting your ego get the best of you. You're asking my motive, but you think you already know the answer. Tell me, what do you think my motive was?

John - Your wife left you and your child two years ago. Then your daughter was murdered just after her eleventh birthday. Now, almost a year later, you killed eleven people, just in time for her twelfth birthday.

Mark - But you're not getting it yet. It's more than that. I'm not out on a rampage, and soon I hope you will learn that to be true. I want to tell you a story.

- John's eyes widen with mock surprise and false excitement.

John - Ooh, I love story time.

- Mark chuckles a little.

Mark - See, there's that sense of humor again.

- John stands up and heads toward the door.

John - I'm gonna need a cup of coffee for this...

Reviews

[For Who I Am]

Oh MG!!! I love the way you make this story more than mature! You make me feel like I was there on the sidelines drinking coffee waiting to hear his story! Please publish the next scene! I would love to review and comment!!!!!

[Draven]

I want to thank u so much for reviewing. Many people don't comment on stories this long. I don't get on here too much anymore, but I'll post the next part soon.

[For Who I Am]

Yeah, I know what u mean. But, your story is aweome! It grabs the readers attention which made me want to read more. This is a fine piece of work.

[Justsimplyjulia]

ooh I like it so far!!!!! keep it coming, I love this stuff..
-Dragon

[Angela ☄️]

I really liked this, I can't wait to hear Mark's story! :D