abrightboy | (Reply)

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"Sometimes I don't," Malcolm said easily. "And sometimes when I don't, he leaves me 28 voicemails in a day. But..." He shrugged a shoulder and then flexed and clenched his hand again. "It's more complicated than that. I mean... I suppose I want to understand. How someone can be what he is. How he fooled us all." He looked over at Raylan. "He was a great dad, you know. Until he wasn't. And it was just..." He snapped his fingers with his left hand, his right still tightly clenched. "It changed just like that. One moment it was all bedtime stories and games and he was my hero who went to work every day to save lives and the next it was a woman shoved in a box and chloroform and gaslighting and murder." Malcolm levelled his gaze at Raylan. "He didn't just kill people; he tortured them to death because it tickled him. That's the real him and that's what I've told myself since the night I called the police, but the really scary thought is what if he's both?"