Prologue

Morning. In an Indiana State correction, detention facility.

"So this is how I end. How sad…Hahaha…."

Puking thick mouthfuls of blood, Reese smirked and uttered. Lonely. Defeated. Yet happy… The final gleam in his eyes very out of place, out of order.

"What's wrong with this dude, bro?" A tall dude asked his crime partner, a bit spooked out.

"... I'm not sure what's up with this difficult mofo, but you did well. Let's see how he fronts that ass in a dirt pit full of worms."

"Alright, let's get the fuck out of here before the guards come up!"

Staring at Reese with the same unease, the partner, the unsuccessful soap mastermind, told.

It didn't take long for warning devices, the alarm system to ring, blare throughout the prison…

...….

Seconds before the honking, blasting noises. The last ones Reese would hear in his life.

"How merciless to leave me here like this…"

"These guys wanted me to pick up the soap?"

"Ruthless cowards. Haha."

"Bleurghh!!" Reese puked again.

Dying, he watched as two men, one of them his killer, skipped, darted the showers.

People in this place liked to show toughness and act strong, but they were all scared of solitary.

He wasn't. He never was.

With this last thought in mind, shaking his head, Reese died off.

… Reese Harris, a trueborn and fed son of Indiana, was not what you would call a good person.

He'd committed tons of mistakes, mistakes he didn't all regret.

One of such, the last, which sent him to this stinky, wet shower, this grave, was about him taking the life of his first cousin years ago.

He'd done a good thing. Society was just set up to penalize him.

If the bastard's dad, that ungrateful, clueless cuck, didn't keep digging for evidence and clues, he wouldn't have ended here.

Graduating from high school right after his wild, satisfying murder, and a rape, the repeated rapes of his aunt, Reese attended college.

He never stopped raping her meanwhile. If that could be called that, when the woman was broken... She knew what she did wrong and never had the courage to avenge her stupid son.

It was only when everything was going well for him in his life, years later, that the police came and arrested him on campus.

A campus he wasn't just preying on or training pickup lines. Making pickup videos minus the white van...

Reese was actually studying there. Making something out of himself. His future.

There was much to be proud of, since he essentially didn't have supporting parents. Or a biological dad in his life.

All his latest achievements, however, amounted to naught. To nothing.

Simply because, Reese had a psychological unwellness.

Reese was a killer… Not a serial one… He wasn't sure, he couldn't find out.

The same could be said for his rape tendencies. He raped women he hated. Which there wasn't much of, except that bitch.

Reese knew about his problems, one at least, ever since the age of six. He just didn't, had no reason to act upon his controlled impulses. His bottomless anger and homicide inducing pride.

Not until, his cousin, that overconfident bloke pushed one of his wrong buttons.

Reese was a sociopath. A psychopath, perhaps.

Did he regret killing the dude?

Come on. Let's be serious.

This, that dude, that thing, was just dead, rotten meat to him at this point.

Overall, Reese wouldn't have killed whatever he was if he was content with fucking his own mother.

He wasn't.

On one of his confidently anserine, heedless days, where he was drunk, he had to try and put his hands on his maternal aunt. Reese's mom.

He made such an error in his rash love calculations, so he died.

He hadn't counted Reese as a road block, and was even bold enough to make the advances next to him.

Reese's stepfather being abroad was all he needed to lose his brainpower, his manly rationality, and vigilance it seemed.

That or he just believed Reese to be a chump. A grave mistake. His ultimate one.

Reese had a skill, not a talent, to make people fail. It was called murder.

Everyone with fingers could kill.

What he was truly talented at was hiding evidence. Or so he thought.

He wasn't. Not as much as he considered.

That was why he ended up here. In prison, where he never planned to pick up soap in the showers.

As a result, not totally unexpected considering where he was, he made horny, sus prison folks mad...

They filled him with holes, which they filled with cold steel again. Again. And again.

Blissfully, this was all done in his stomach. His thorax. Not anywhere else.

Dying with his self-respect intact, Reese didn't wonder what the afterlife had in store for him.

He was never a believer.

He only believed in hiss asshole, his shit tunnels staying consecrate. Unexplored.

To him, this mission called life which he still wanted to taste more was a shuttered, a capped W. But a W, nevertheless.