Well… This is new.
Of course, he’d been in jail before, but those times had been for petty theft and drunken disorder. Not murder.
He fidgeted nervously in the metal chair. The cuffs bit into his wrists.
Was it last night? Or the night before? How did I get here?

Two nights ago, he’d been in a fight. Normally, he’d have curled up into a ball. But on that night, he’d acted differently. Something compelled him to strike back. In the end, he was left standing. Something had changed in him. At that moment, he looked at his bloody hands, hands that had spent years wrapped around a bottle, hands that were broken, and sickly with disease. And he’d felt something new… He’d felt powerful. Alive.

A detective walked into the room, “Parcher, Jon – can I call you Jon?”
“Yes”
“Jon, do you know why you’re here today?”
“No”
“Have you seen this family before?”
Glossy photos slid across the table. Family of four. Crime scene. Bloody hammer.

Behind the mirror, an officer muttered – “Oh Lord. He’s smiling.”