"They Deserved It"
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The television flickered in the dim living room, casting soft shadows against the peeling wallpaper. A small boy sat cross-legged on the dusty floor, remote clutched loosely in his hand. Rain whispered against the glass window, but he didn't turn to look. His eyes were fixed on the screen.
A news anchor spoke with a strained, practiced calm.
> "—today marks the final day of the high-profile trial that has shaken the country. Twelve victims. One suspect. A series of coordinated murders spanning over two years, each more brutal than the last. Many are calling it vigilante justice. Others, premeditated massacre."
The camera panned to the courtroom. Tension clung to every face in the audience like sweat. The air looked heavy, the silence deafening. A lone figure sat in the defendant's chair, hands calm, face unreadable. Not a twitch, not a blink. Just stillness.
The judge's voice echoed through the speakers.
> "You've heard the testimonies. You've seen the evidence. You've had the chance to defend yourself. But before I give the final verdict…"
"I ask you again. Why?"
The camera zoomed slightly. The man finally raised his eyes. There was no tremble in his lips. No hesitation in his breath.
He spoke with the same cold certainty as the grave.
> "Because they deserved it."
A collective gasp filled the courtroom.
The boy on the floor didn't flinch. He leaned forward just slightly, eyes wide, the reflection of the man's face shimmering in his pupils. Behind him, the rain began to fall harder.
The news anchor returned to the screen, shaken.
> "—no names have been released due to the sensitivity of the case and the age of many involved at the time of the original incidents. What we do know is that the killings followed a disturbingly systematic pattern. Each victim... each death... tied to a past."
Static danced briefly across the screen.
The boy stared a little longer, then clicked the remote. The screen went black.
Somewhere far awa
y, a gavel hit wood.
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And so it began…