"I am the one that killed my mother." A young boy sitting in an interrogation room, with his hands tied to the cold desk, said those words in a cold but serious tone.
The room was completely dark. It was either like that, or maybe it was just fading. The young boy wasn't old enough to be said to be of the right age to be interrogated like this. He wasn't even at the age where it would be possible to consider him arrested, let alone stand trial.
He wasn't even in his teen years yet. He wasn't even close to being in his teens. This boy right here was still a child—a child who needed his mother, a child who, clearly by the evaluation of psychiatrists, child services, and even judges, was still too young to understand what was going on.
The scary part about this whole thing wasn't the fact that a young boy at this age had just admitted to a crime that heinous, but the fact that when he was confessing, he was serious—and not even the slightest remorse showed on his face. Not even the smallest kind of emotion, let alone a tear.
He was just calm and normal. All he did was look around the cold interrogation room. Next to him sat a police officer who was clearly intent on putting this innocent child behind bars forever, if that was possible.
The police officer had a file with him. He placed it on the desk, opened it, then displayed the pictures of a deceased woman dressed in black, lying in a pool of blood. Judging by the wounds all over her body, it was obvious that it was her own blood.
"What do you see, kid?" The police officer shoved the photos of the dead woman toward him.
"My mother," the boy responded, emotionless.
"And what happened to your mother?" the police officer continued.
"I killed her." Just after the boy admitted that, a flicker of a smile appeared on his face. His eyes grew watery.
"Who told you to kill her?" The police officer kept pressing.
The boy just sat there, placing his gaze on the police officer and then on his dead mother's picture. He completely ignored the officer's presence.
"I asked you a question, kid. Who told you to kill her?" The police officer clearly had no intention of letting this go.
The boy picked up one of his dead mother's pictures and brushed it lightly. "I–I don't know."
The police officer lost it. "Who the hell sent you, kid?!" He slammed the desk, creating a dent.
The boy was caught off guard and jumped in fear. "I–I–I don't remember!"
He admitted it while clutching his head, which felt like it was under immense pain—like it was screaming.
"You still haven't answered me!" the police officer shouted.
"That's enough, Mr. Officer," someone shot back as they entered the interrogation room.
Everything became unclear and fuzzy, as though the whole thing was melting away and being erased.
"Ash, Ash, Ash, are you still with us?" A female's voice caused a minor ringing in his ear piece.
"Kyah! Yes, I can hear you fine." Ash removed the ear piece for a second. "You know, one day you'll actually cause my ears to bleed and I'll go deaf." He put the ear piece back.
"Oh, forgive me for trying to bring you back from your zoning-off precious time," the girl on the other side said sarcastically.
The boy she was talking to was Ash Wednesday—the very same boy who was once young and sitting in that interrogation room. But now he wasn't so young anymore. Now he looked more like a grown-up teenager.
Ash still resembled his younger self. The big difference was that he looked more handsome and mature now, with a good-looking chiseled face and white hair that mostly covered his eyes.
Ash stood at the edge of a tall building, watching something from a far distance. Outside, it was nighttime, and the full moon shone brightly.
He wore all black—from his denim pants that weren't too tight, to a T-shirt, black sneakers, and a black leather jacket.
"Do you see any of them?" the girl in the ear piece asked.
"You know, you ask me that like I'm the one with the high-tech goggles," Ash replied.
"Hah, hah, hah. They're not goggles, you dummy. Plus, you don't need them—you can use Recno Scanner magic, remember?" the girl reminded him.
"Oh right, it can only be used by us—the awesome ones," Ash teased.
"Boy, please!" she scoffed.
Ash closed his eyes for a second and muttered something silently under his breath. When he opened them again, he could suddenly see through the building's brick-reinforced concrete wall to the other side.
"Bingo. Now I can see them," he reported.
"Uh, hello? And how many are there?" the girl waited.
"Oh, sorry. Let's see…" Ash looked carefully. "Uhm, what's the number that comes after three?" He seemed confused.
"You mean four," she corrected him.
He snapped his fingers. "Ah, yes—that one."
"Well, what are they doing?" the girl asked.
"Why don't you let me go see for myself, and I'll get back to you on that," Ash said, pressing his ear piece.
He stepped back from the building's edge and walked backwards. Once he had reached a certain distance, he tip-toed, then began to run.
The way he ran—his speed and pace—was unmatched. The sound of rushing wind followed him. When Ash reached the edge of the building, he leapt toward the rooftop of another building—a fair distance away that no normal person could have made.
Ash grunted as he landed, tumbling on the rooftop.
"Wait a second! Did you just jump to the other building?" The girl hoped she had misheard him.
"You said I should go and check it out, right? So that's what I'm doing," he replied.
"Excuse me, I did no such thing—you said so. Anyway, you should wait for backup. It might be—" Before she could finish, Ash had already removed his ear piece.
He walked to the other end of the building and saw four very suspicious men busy doing something he couldn't make out from the distance.
"Darn it, I can't see a damn thing. I guess I'll have to jump again." Ash sighed, clearly not looking forward to it.
He repeated the same process as before: reversed his steps, ran, and leapt to the next rooftop.
He landed successfully. All these buildings were nearly identical—in structure, height, and distance.
"Phew, I really didn't think I was going to make it this time around," Ash said in relief.
He walked into the center of the rooftop. The night sky, blowing winds, and surrounding buildings were the only things filling the silence.
Ash paused. He closed his eyes once more, crouched, and touched the concrete floor. He muttered something again, silently.
When he finished, he kept his eyes shut for a moment, listening closely to the vibrations through the building's concrete floor. He could hear minor movements—every sound inside.
"So these guys are on the second floor, huh?" Ash stood up. "Very well then, why don't I go visit them? I'm sure they're eager to meet their neighbor." He tip-toed again.
But this time, it was different. Ash started slowly as the night wind blew in his direction, circling around him. His pace picked up gradually.
Soon, he wasn't tip-toeing anymore. He was jumping—not high, not low, and not loud. His jumps were normal, almost like a person skipping rope.
"Wait for it… wait for it… and now."
Ash's final jump landed on the building's concrete floor, breaking through it. Not only did he crash through the first floor, but also the second.
BAM!
He hit the second floor hard.