While George sat there feeling smug, Aleksander let his focus drift deeper into the man's mind. The arrogance on George's face didn't hide the chaos underneath; it only made the memories easier to pull.Aleksander saw George's childhood unfold in flashes—lonely, warped, and soaked in resentment. He was raised alone by his mother, Simone Marks, an emotionally disturbed woman suffering from hysterical blindness.
He saw the attic first—walls covered in crude, frantic drawings of trees, branches twisting like grasping fingers. The smell of dust and old wood filled his nose. A small boy—George—knelt on the floor, carving shallow notches into the wooden stair risers, his fingers stained with ink. A woman's voice from below, sharp and broken: "You did this to me. You're darkness." The words hit like a slap, even though they weren't aimed at him.
Then the scene snapped sideways—flashlight beams cutting through the dark from two windows, George and Evan signaling back and forth in silence. The attic radio crackled to life, John Denver's voice rising warm and bright: "Sunshine on my shoulders makes me happy…" Simone's scream tore through the house, raw and furious. "Turn that off!" The music became a kind of violence, the cheerfulness itself an offense.
Another cut—November 3, 1992. Dolls lined up on the floor, their painted eyes staring blankly. George's hands moved with a strange, methodical calm, carving the glassy eyes out one by one. The sound of Simone's scream again, higher this time, almost animal. "You're a monster."
Simone finally snapped and called DHS, claiming she couldn't handle him anymore. A social worker named Lee arrived and took George away to a group home.
The door slamming shut, the world narrowing to the sound of his own heartbeat.
Then the group home—white walls, fluorescent lights humming overhead, the smell of cheap disinfectant. George sitting on the edge of a bed, staring at the door, his mind already racing ahead, plotting the moment he'd slip out. The night air cool on his skin as he ran back toward the house, streetlights stretching his shadow long and thin, the house looming ahead like a tomb.
Coincidentally, Lee had returned to the house at the same time with a man named Jacob Leonardo, intending to rob it. Jacob turned out to be a serial rapist, and when he saw Simone's apparent blindness, he became more interested in assaulting her than stealing.
Inside, the living room—Lee standing tense, gun in hand, Jacob's eyes crawling over Simone like she was prey. The gun pressed between them, the threat hanging in the air.
Lee forcing Jacob out, the door closing with a soft click that felt like a reprieve. Then the sound of the song again, drifting down from the attic, the words "Sunshine on my shoulders" twisting into something mocking. Simone's whisper, trembling: "The darkness always comes back."
Lee dropping the gun, backing away, fleeing into the night.The stairs creaking under Simone's weight as she climbed, the gun clutched in her hand.
George's small voice, broken and hopeful: "Why did you send me away?"
Simone's answer, cold and final: "You're darkness. You blinded me."
The words hit like a physical blow, the air in the room turning heavy and suffocating.Then Jacob's return—the heavy footsteps on the stairs, the rough hands grabbing George from the closet, dragging him back up to the attic. The darkness closing in, the smell of sweat and fear filling his nostrils. The sound of Jacob's belt unbuckling, the rough hands tearing at his clothes.
The world narrowing to the feel of the floor beneath him, the rough wood pressing into his skin, the sound of his own voice begging, pleading, the words coming out in a broken, desperate stream.
George picked up the fallen gun, pointed it at his mother, and asked how she could have known about "the woods," realizing for the first time that she wasn't truly blind.
Simone's face, pale and pleading, her eyes wide with fear. "Forgive me," she whispered, her voice trembling. The single shot, the sound echoing through the attic, the silence that followed.
Jacob fleeing, his footsteps pounding down the stairs, the door slamming shut behind him.Aleksander pulled back from the memories, his breath coming a little faster, the weight of what he'd seen settling over him like a heavy blanket.
Aleksander decided it was time to enter the game. He pushed the interrogation room door open and stepped inside, the faint hum of the overhead light filling the silence.
George looked up, and his smile widened, a flicker of genuine interest crossing his face."Our little genius detective,"
George said, leaning back in his chair. "I read your case on the Susie Salmon murder. It was very interesting. I must say, even with all the evidence you collected, George Harvey still hasn't gotten the death sentence."
Aleksander knew George didn't actually know anything about his abilities. The Susie Salmon case file only had a brief description, and his parents had made sure nothing dangerous was left behind. Keeping his powers a secret had always been his last resort, and it had served him well so far.
Aleksander smiled faintly, the expression polite but distant. "Is that so," he said, his tone light, almost amused.
George's smile faltered slightly. He'd expected a stronger reaction—something more defensive or indignant—but Aleksander's calm response threw him off balance.
Aleksander leaned forward, resting his elbows on the table, his gaze steady. "I must say, George," he continued, "your past is pretty sad. Your mother, Simone Marks, was also a rape victim, right?"
George's face tightened at the mention of Simone's name, the muscles in his jaw clenching so hard they stood out like cords. Both Oz and Adam Kerdac noticed the change immediately, their eyes narrowing as they exchanged a quick glance.