Life imprisonment.
The words echoed, empty and absolute.
As he was led away, reporters shouted questions like knives.
"Do you regret it?"
"Were they really innocent?"
"Do you feel human?"
Hope did not answer.
In his cell, the walls were bare. The silence was merciless.
At night, screams from other cells drifted like ghosts.
He slept without dreams.
Years passed.
When his sister visited, she never apologized.
Instead, she mocked him.
"You ruined my life," she said, eyes burning. "Do you know what they call me?"
Hope listened.
She screamed. She cried. She cursed him.
And still, she came again.
One day, she asked quietly, "If you could return to that alley… knowing everything—what would you do?"
Hope answered without pause.
"I would kill them again."
She closed her eyes.
When she left, her lips were trembling—but she was smiling.