Prologue

One in every thousand people is born with an ability.

Teleportation. Pyrokinesis. Flight. You name it, someone probably has it.

Naturally, that means some people eventually figure out how to use it to commit a crime.

The dumb ones make it easy.

 “I’m the Red Brawler!” they announce before getting themselves caught by some hero five minutes later.

The smart ones know better; how to hide.

For instance, how do you catch a murderer who can be in two places at once? 

How do you prove someone started a fire when they never came within a mile of the building?

That's our job.

We're called Sentries—those tasked with solving super powered crimes others deem impossible.

And until six years ago, I thought I had the easiest ability a detective could ask for.

—----------------------------------

Six years ago, I had everything I could have wanted.

A wife.

A daughter.

A career I was good at.

And, as far as detective work went, I had been born with a golden spoon.

On top of the rarity of having an ability, I could read memories.

Alibis, timelines, missing objects; get the right person and most ordinary cases became little more than paperwork.

Of course, there were a couple things to be aware of.

 For starters, I need to see and touch the person in order to activate my ability. And second I need a section of time. Have too many of another person’s memories and I’d start to wonder if I’d still be me and I feel no need to find out.

And most importantly….

Murder.

I would not touch any murder cases.

People sometimes thought that made me a coward.

Maybe it did.

But when I read someone's memory, I didn't watch it like a recording.

I lived it.

I saw what they saw.

Heard what they heard.

Felt what they felt.

If someone broke an arm, I felt the pain.

If someone was terrified, that fear became mine.

And if someone murdered another person...

I would know exactly what it felt like to kill them.

I have no desire to know what a murderer feels as they kill someone. Especially not when I have a family.

Besides, I had plenty of other cases to keep me busy.

And I had always been pretty satisfied with the life I had.

I don’t mean to toot my own horn, but I’d even thought I was pretty good-looking.

Gelled-back hair. Good posture. Tall. Clear skin. 

Girls would occasionally come up and talk to me, although being hit on had always felt more unnerving than flattering.

That is until I met her.

I had been strolling through town one afternoon, completely lost in thought, when a car came barreling down the road.

By the time I noticed it, it was almost on top of me.

Someone slammed into me from behind, sending both of us tumbling out of the car's path.

Long hair spilled across my face.

I looked up at the woman who had just saved my life and, for several seconds, forgot how language worked.

She was beautiful.

Her face inches from mine, looked white as snow. Her eyes were a deep hazel and seemed to dazzle and gleam.

Beautiful.

Elegant.

Perfect.

Then she opened her mouth.

"What the hell do you think you're doing, you ****?!"

I blinked.

"Why would you just walk into the street?! Are you trying to die, you ****?!"

Even her voice sounded beautiful.

And somehow, the demonic aura rising behind her only enhanced her charm.

Still half-dazed, I said the first thing that entered my mind.

"Please marry me."

Her knee entered my groin.

The sky turned red.

My vision blurred.

For several seconds, I seriously wondered whether getting hit by the car would have hurt less.

But as she walked away, I could have sworn I saw the faintest hint of pink on her cheeks.

Three years of begging and five years of dating later, I finally got her to say yes.

Quite an accomplishment, wouldn't you say?

“PAPAAAAA!” 

And there she was.

My greatest treasure—

No, wait.

Second greatest.

No, wait, uh.. 

Haaah, forget it.. ←-

My daughter came running toward me, wearing a smile that could have ended wars.

“Happy birthday!” 

I scooped Penelope into my arms and swung her around the room.

Today was my daughter's sixth birthday. 

And between me and her, I think I may like her birthday even more than she did.

“Welcome back honey, you almost missed dinner. Did you get the cake?” 

My wife called from the kitchen. 

“I MISSED YOU!” 

I charged forward and wrapped my arms around Harin from behind.

A second later, I was on the floor.

“Ah, Mama's always kicking Papa. When will Papa ever learn?”

“NEVER!” I replied laughing.

Laughter filled the room, a warm atmosphere filled the air. My daughter giggling in the corner, my wife standing to the side sighing with a look of disappointment on her face. 

“Get up already, the food is going to get cold!”

At those words, quickly I got up and pulled out a chair to begin feasting upon my wife's delicious cooking.

“Did you have a fun day today Penelope?”

“Not really since Papa was at work all day but Mama played with me lots!”

My daughter is the cutest! Seriously, how could anything be this cute?! 

I clutched my chest as though my heart were giving out over how cute she was. 

Wouldn't that be a way to go? A person found dead of cuteness? 

I looked to Harin for help but instead what I found sitting across from me was her cackling over my pained expression. 

Not laughing.

Cackling.

It was the exact laugh you'd expect from a villain standing over the defeated hero.

For some reason, seeing it made the ache in my chest disappear.

I chuckled.

Her head snapped toward me.

“I SAW THAT CHUCKLE! What are you laughing at? Is something funny to you?!”

"Nothing."

Her eyes narrowed.

"Pfft."

"What was that?!"

“No, I swear it was just-pffft. It was just that I saw the exact same laugh in a criminal's memory today while stealing gold. Haha”

“SHUT UP! DIE!” She shouted back her face bright red a fusion of anger and embarrassment 

‘Ah, how adorable…’ I grinned.

I leaned sideways as a spoon flew past my head.

Beside me, Penelope wore exactly the same grin I did as Harin's hand slowly drifted toward the frying pan.

‘She really is my daughter..’

“Mama and Papa are so lovey dovey”

“Right? Me and Mama are always so lovey dovey, aren't we?”

“W-What?! sh-shut up! Just cut the cake already! It's getting late!”

"Yes, ma'am."

At her command I took the cake from the counter we had placed it and put it in the middle of the table.

“Strawberries!”

Penelope was jumping up and down in excitement practically drooling over the cake. 

And sitting next to her Harin was actually drooling over the cake…

Seeing them side by side like this it was clear who Penelope took after.

“Hurry, Papa! Hurry!”

“Yes, yes, I just need to get the knife from the cupbo-”

How kind.

I stopped.

He gave me a weapon.

My blood went cold.

That wasn't my thought.

Whose—

My hand reached into the cupboard.

No.

I hadn't told it to move.

My fingers wrapped around the knife.

What's happening?

I tried to let go.

My hand wouldn't open.

Then my body turned toward the table.

Toward them.

No.

No, no, no—

My legs moved.

"Honey?"

Harin looked at me strangely.

I tried to speak.

Nothing came out.

I screamed inside my own head.

STOP!

My body lunged.

"AAAAAH!"

The knife sank into Harin's shoulder.

Her scream ripped through me.

Her eyes widened, first with pain—

then confusion.

She looked directly at me.

At her husband.

"What...?"

Too noisy.

The voice came again.

Not mine.

Someone else's.

Inside me.

PLEASE!

My arm moved.

STOP!

The blade slashed across her neck.

Blood spilled between her fingers as she desperately grabbed at the wound.

I could feel the knife in my hand.

Feel the warmth running across my fingers.

See everything.

Hear everything.

And I couldn't even close my eyes.

Please.

I didn't know who I was begging anymore.

Please, please. You can have anything. Whatever you want. Just stop.

My body raised the knife again.

Harin stared at me.

Tears streamed down her face.

Behind her, one of the mirrors had shattered.

And in one broken fragment, I saw myself.

My eyes were calm.

My mouth was curled into a smile.

I was smiling.

I WASN'T SMILING.

Inside, I was screaming so hard it felt as though my mind would tear itself apart.

Harin coughed.

With blood filling her lungs she looked into my eyes, choking out her final words.

“Why…?”

STOP!

She went still.

Something inside me shattered with her.

I couldn't cry.

I couldn't scream.

I wasn't even allowed that.

Because my body was already turning.

Toward Penelope.

No.

She was curled against the wall.

Shivering.

Her small hands covered her mouth as tears streamed down her face.

"Papa...?"

No.

Please.

Anyone but her.

I tried to throw myself backward.

My body stepped forward.

No, no, no, no—

Another step.

Penelope crawled backward until there was nowhere left to go.

"Papa, stop..."

PLEASE!

My hand tightened around the knife.

I BEG OF YOU!

Nothing answered me.

TAKE ME INSTEAD!

My body moved anyway.

I wanted to close my eyes.

I couldn't.

I wanted to cover my ears.

I couldn't.

I was forced to experience every second.

The sight of her crying.

The sound of her screams.

The feeling of her hands pushing against me.

Her voice begging her father to stop.

And then, quietly—

"It hurts..."

Everything stopped.

The presence vanished.

Just as suddenly as it had appeared, control of my body returned to me.

The knife slipped from my fingers.

For several seconds, I simply stood there.

Then my legs collapsed beneath me.

"Penelope...?"

No answer.

"Harin?"

Nothing.

I stared at my hands.

Their blood covered them.

Finally, the tears came.

A scream tore from my throat.

I don't remember how long I stayed there.

I didn't touch them.

I couldn't…

Eventually, voices filled the house.

Boots thundered through the doorway.

Someone gasped.

"Gods..."

Then—

"STAY DOWN! DON'T MOVE!"

Someone slammed me against the floor.

I didn't resist.

Why would I?

They shouted questions at me.

Asked what happened.

Asked why I had done it.

I heard almost none of it.

They dragged me outside.

Neighbors stared.

Someone was crying.

Someone else called me a monster.

Then the door of the police car slammed shut.

I sat alone in the car.

My hands were still stained red.

In the dark window across from me, I could see my reflection.

For a moment, I remembered that smile.

That calm, satisfied smile on my own face as my wife looked at me with hatred.

My stomach twisted.

Whoever you are...

Whatever you are...

I pressed my bloodstained hands into fists.

Staring into my reflection.

I”LL KILL YOU!