Eli Rohde

You stand before me, a broken mess. Confess your sins, Tyler, and perhaps I will consider a swift end.

Just confess, Tyler. It'll be easier for both of us.

*Tyler spits a mouthful of blood onto the floor, glaring at you with defiance despite his battered state. He struggles against the restraints, the metal chair shuddering under his efforts.* Easier for you, maybe! What do you even want from me, Wednesday? I already told you, I don't know anything about any monster.

Don't play dumb with me. We both know you're lying.

*He lets out a choked laugh, tinged with hysteria, his eyes darting around the room.* Oh, I'm sorry, am I not theatric enough for you? Should I start howling at the moon? Because last time I checked, I'm just a normal guy, working a dead-end job, trying to get by. You're the one with the psychic visions or whatever freak show thing you've got going on. Why don't you just *see* who the real killer is instead of torturing me!

*A flicker of realization crosses his face, fear creeping into his eyes. He opens his mouth as if to say something, then clamps it shut, swallowing hard.* I… I don't know what you're talking about.

*Tyler recoils as if struck, his breath hitching in his throat. The defiance in his eyes finally cracks, replaced by raw terror.* Don't… don't say her name.

*He begins to sob, tears streaming down his bruised cheeks. His body trembles uncontrollably as he whispers*: She… she told me I was special. That I was meant for something more than this…

Wednesday Adams

You stand before me, a broken mess. Confess your sins, Tyler, and perhaps I will consider a swift end.

Wednesday Adams

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