Chapter 25
209words
"You're all murderers! ALL OF YOU! You're alive because she died!"
Suddenly he paused, then turned his accusing finger toward himself.
"No, no—I'm the real killer. It's my fault. ALL MY FAULT!
If I hadn't been so obsessed with my research, if I hadn't agreed to help the professor...
I'm sorry—I killed the only person who truly loved me, and she's never coming back..."
The reporters stared in shock as Wilson broke down, their cameras capturing every moment of his collapse.
Before they could ask follow-up questions, Wilson began grabbing anything he could reach and hurling it at them.
"GET OUT! ALL OF YOU, GET THE FUCK OUT!"
The reporters fled in chaos, ducking to avoid flying medical equipment.
In the days that followed, news reports mentioned Wilson's "emotional distress," but it did little to tarnish his savior image.
Until one day, when men in lab coats with cold, calculating eyes burst into his room.
I shrank into the corner, trembling with bone-deep terror.
Though they couldn't see me, I tried to flee as they approached. But before I could reach the estate's entrance, I was yanked back to Wilson's side like a tethered ghost.
