Crimes Of A Woman

As the detective enters the room, he could feel the tension surrounding it. He looks at the table across the room and saw the woman they've been trying to apprehend for months. They caught her at last. Emotions flooded him at once. Slow paced, he walks towards the table where she's being handcuffed. She looks up to him and smiles, while his gaze remains cold. I don't understand. He could feel his heart hammering hard inside his chest as questions begins to cloud his mind. He wanted to run away at that moment. He just couldn't accept it. He feels like he's going to suffocate any minute. He put both of his hands on the table, looking straight down on her. "What drove you to kill?" The detective asked, his eyes locking on her eyes, hoping to see a tiny bit of humanity. hands He searched for what's left of humanity in her but he found none. He couldn't understand. "Vengeance." The only word that came out of her mouth as their eyes stared into each other. The side of her lips rose, she smirked. A psychopath, that's what he thought as his eyes scanned her scarred forearms shackled with handcuffs. They got her now, but it feels like catching her is wrong. No. She's a killer. But why does it feels so wrong? Where did we go wrong? — This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, places, events and incidents are either the products of the author's imagination or used in a fictitious manner. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental. Expect some typographical and grammatical errors.