Casket of Lights

I woke up the moment the metal door clanged out, followed by the sound of keys jingling in the lock. Footsteps of the only free people in the high-ceilinged chamber echoed, growing fainter as they moved towards the exit of this cold room. The ramping of cellars and soft whispers muffled into my ears. I averted my gazed towards the other door slammed and the only sounds were the quiet voices of private conversations and the rustle of paper from the cold breeze, those who choose to read in their cells. Another prisoner and yet another day closer to repaying their debt to society by dwelling in the prison. I heard the metal door opened. I followed my gaze on him. His blue police uniform telling me that his name was Stan, probably in his thirties. What was with his towering hair? Was he imitating the Leaning Tower of Pisa? I met his hazelnut eyes, and in a cold, dark voice, Stan said, "Prisoner sixty hundred sixty-six." My breath caught in my throat as the corner of my lips twitched. The handcuffs remained stuck on my wrists as I slowly rubbed my chin. My brows creased when he snatched my hand, guiding me through the path. "Get your hands away from me," I said as I walked towards the long dark pathway, with him at my back, until we reached another metal door. My nose crinkled as I smell the mixture of lavenders and sweats in the air. Florescent lights hum and buzz overhead; one blinked every so often as if it were about to go out. I blew a sigh when my strands of blue straight hair flopped onto my face. I sat on the old wooden chair, old as time itself. I tilted my head when I saw a silhouette of a guy, almost the same age as me, walking towards my direction. Redwood Felix. Redwood Felix's hair looked as red as the trunk of a pine tree. That is right! He belonged among them... Long and red. The corner of his lips turned up as he stopped when he reached my front. I met his midnight sky eyes and his rosy red lips.  He let a sigh and offered his hand. "Long time no see, Ocean," he said. “Welcome back Redwood Felix.” I laughed. “Or should I say little detective Redhair?” The corner of my lips twitched as he placed his right hand on his pocket. He tilted his head as he gently placed both his arms crossed, leveling his chest. This detective looks hot... but he smells like tragic and pain. I rolled my eyes as I raised my metal handcuffs. "Pleasure to meet you…again, Detective Redwood,” I added, emphasizing his surname. My lips turned up as he gently shook his head, sitting at the black swivel chair in front of me. "Behave prisoner, sixty hundred sixty-six," Stan uttered. I pursed my lips together to stop my laughs. I straightened my back as I crossed my feet under the table. His gaze landed towards his white folder, and then at me, and in a playful tone, he said, "Rossé Lilybeth Blanc, twenty-one, serial killer." "Correction." My lips twitched before I could continue. "Accused serial killer," I said while raising my brows. I placed my arms forward on the wooden table and almost fell from my seat when he held my hand and kissed it. His face beamed. "You never fail to amuse me," he said. I pulled it out. I faked a laugh, rolled my eyes, and said, "I'm not an entertainer… Definitely, not yours." He snapped his fingers as he stood up. He folded his arms until it reaches his chest. "I got an idea, why don't you appreciate the air outside?" he asked, giving me a grin. I darted my eyes at him, and asked, "Tell me, what do you want?" He leaned towards me; his face was inches away from me that I could feel his breathe. I almost jumped on my seat when I heard a loud thug as Stan placed four white folders on the table. Redhair pulled away from me and crossed his arms. "Security broke from Stygian Realm, four prisoners escaped," he uttered. I laughed as I glanced up to the black ceiling and asked, “Oh, so you messed it up? And what do you want me to do about it?” He shut his eyes closed momentarily as he pressed the bridge of his nose. “We need your help,” he said. “Deal with them.” Silence rose at the atmosphere. My laughs echoed around the four corners of the room. "Tragic! Do you want me to kill them?" I pressed my lips in a line. I looked at him straight on his eyes, and in a cold voice, I said, "I’m not Harley Quinn. I told you, I'm not a killer!” He scratched his nose and blew another sigh. I looked away. I grabbed the first folder at the wooden table. As I opened the white folder, I was amazed to see that he was a twisted man. "Damon Christopher, twenty-eight, ace of the group," Redhair said, crossing his arms as he walked towards the black glass. I looked at Damon's features. My fingers tapped the wooden desk, leaving small noises. Black eyes, brown haired, and physically fit. I could sense a lot of trouble. I hissed. "Charged with felony murder?" I paused for a while, looked at him momentarily and said, "Are you sure, I can handle this?" I looked at him, creasing my brows. He did not respond but his eyes were blazed with fire. He continued. "Morgan Hunter, twenty-eight, the heart. Crime: First Degree Murder." It sent shivers from my spine. A muscle from my jaw twitched, still not sure if I could send them back to hell. "Chuckie Takishiro, Spade, twenty-nine," Redhair uttered. The corner of my eyes wrinkled, still analyzing his soft features. "Crime: Serial r**e," he continued. "Is he you know…?" I asked. He averted his gaze towards me and firmly said, “No”. I scratched my hair, in confusion. With a pounding heart, I gazed towards the next folder, and said, "Churchill Bummer, Diamond, twenty-seven." I jolted my head, and added, "Crime: Vehicular Manslaughter." My mouth went slightly ajar. "Why does it have to be me?" I asked, giving him a lopsided grin. "You'll know the answers," he said, placing his hand behind his back. I fought the urge to roll my eyes. I stood up and walked towards him. "Alright," I said, pausing for a while. "What's the catch?" I straightened my back, analyzing him. In my peripheral, I saw Stan pierced his eyes on me. I shrugged my shoulders. His eyes squinted at me. "You make it and I'll let you live your life," he said. I caught his lips went wider, curving a smile. "On the second hand, you're going to be mine." I froze on my place and yelled, "Cut the crap! That’s tragic!” He placed both of his hands towards my shoulders and said, "Kill them as fast as you can." "Ironic" – I paused, sniffling his rose perfumed scent, – "Those who work under the law wants me, a criminal, to kill another criminal. Wouldn’t that be illegal?" I continued. His hands fell on his waist. His brows creased, giving me a confused look. "Wasn't that against the rules?" I raised a question, locking my gaze towards him. He leaned towards me once again and leveled his mouth near my ears. "Baby, we need to break the rules sometimes." He crossed his hands and said, "We're got your back." I nodded, grinning from ear to ear. "How about my living?" I asked. He looked at me as if saying 'we got you.' He scratched his nose once again and peered at me like an eagle staring at his prey. He snatched up his black card from his pockets and said, "You'll have a unit near their penthouse." The corner of my lips curved a smile. "I was made for this," I said. "And you need to transfer at their university, Fleuvis Imperial College," he added, still facing me. My mouth dropped. I studied him for a moment, and asked, "Do I have unlimited supplies of potato chips?" He glared at me while a line appeared between his brows. Redhair smirked and nodded. "Then that's negotiable," I said. I saw Stan walked towards me. He was searching for something inside his pants. I looked at Redhair once again as I plastered a smile on my face and asked, "When should I start?" His whole face hardened as he unlocked my handcuffs and said, "Tomorrow." The corner of his lips turned up as he continued, "This is exhilarating, isn't it?"   I am not a killer, not a spirit, or an angel from the hottest hell. But to accomplish this task, I need to become one. Can I handle all of these?