As I opened my eyes, they were immediately hit with a ray of light unbeknownst to me.
"Do you know why you're here"
A strange voice had asked me a question out of the blue, but I didn't know how to properly respond.
"Where am I?"
"Answer the question. Do you know why you're here?"
"No, I don't even know where 'here' is"
"look around genius. Where do you think you are?"
My eyes had finally adjusted themselves to the unfamiliar light source, so I gave myself the freedom of scouting out my surroundings. Four massive concrete walls loomed over me, as if they were going to collapse at any given moment, hurling me toward damnation. The ceiling was brightly lit up with a dozen or more increasingly intense lamps, blinding me with a celestial force. Even though there was no shortage of light, a feeling of darkness and uneasiness, seemed inevitable.
While I was observing the conditions in which I'd been placed, an increasingly annoying itch, build up on the left side of my head, near the bottom of my ear. I slowly raised my hand to scratch, but less than halfway up its perilous journey, my hand was locked in place by an unknown force. The newly found nuisance forced my eyes to focus on the exact spot of impact and what I saw was not pleasant. My hands had been chained to the table which I was evidently sitting at. I had handcuffs on.
While I had been trying to properly ascertain the situation, the man sitting across from me didn't let his eyes leave me for even a second, as if he was a predator slowly waiting for his prey to show just a tiny bit of weakness, on which he could capitalize.
"It seems you've finally regained your composure"
"Why am I handcuffed in an interrogation room?"
"You don't have to act confused, just confess what you've done, and make this easy for both of us"
"I don't even know what you're talking about"
"Okay, let's get on with the show then"
His hand reached toward a case file lying on the cold hard steel of the table. The case file opened silently at the behest of the man and he slid a picture over to me with the gracefulness of an owl flying silently through the night.
"An act of extreme violence was committed last night, at the Cobra Arcade Bar"
The silence continued as I looked down on the picture. It was a grotesque picture of a woman beaten to death, by violent means. My body automatically reacted, by looking away at a slight angle and pushing the picture back in the direction of the officer.
"What does this have to do with me? you're not suggesting that I'm involved with whatever barbaric methods caused that, are you?"
"Mister, where were you last night?"
As I thought about where I was last night, the only thing my mind could come up with, was a vast space of nothingness. Trying not to panic, I said the only thing that seemed logical.
"I was at home, relaxing after a long day of work"
"We know for a fact that you were at the scene of the crime, in the timespan of the murder. We've had multiple eyewitness accounts detailing the perpetrator as someone who looks exactly like you"
"Just because someone who looks like me, committed an awful crime, it doesn't mean that I'm to be held accountable for it, does it? I was at home"
The officer impatiently tapped his fingers on the cold steel, creating a musical symphony, only heard along the steel bars of a prison cell.
"We also have video footage of the aftermath. You can confess right now and make it easier on yourself"
A smile spread across the officer's face, as he let out the same sentence, he had previously said to pressure me.
"If you had solid proof, I wouldn't be here in interrogation, now would I?"
At least that's what I said, but I don't even know if I, fully believed that. The laws of interrogation were mostly unknown to me, aside from the basic stuff seen in classic 90's crime detective shows. It seemed however, like my knowledge of crime shows had done me a favor this time. The officer's face changed rapidly from a smile to an emotionless expression which was somehow even more unsettling.
The officer sat completely still now, staring me down like the predator I'd previously envisioned. His steely eyes were locked on me, like the lock-on mechanic found on the nuclear missiles in modern cinema action movies.
The silence was bearing down on me harder than any interrogation could. The silence left me with only myself to interrogate. I had no recollection of what I'd been doing the previous day. I couldn't completely rule out the possibility that I was involved in the aforementioned incident. But I wasn't that kind of person, right?
Questions like that kept haunting my mind as the demons of silence slowly corrupted my brain. Why couldn't I remember? The incident took place at a bar. Could my loss of memory be caused by alcohol? No there was no way that I somehow found myself in a situation where I was capable of killing another person. There was no way, right?
On the verge of insanity, the officer finally spoke again, relieving the tension caused by everlasting silence.
"Well I guess you're right. The video doesn't feature a face. It only shows the backside of a person, who coincides with the eyewitness accounts"
Some of the weight was now lifted from my chest, but it didn't change the fact that even I, wasn't sure whether or not, I was involved in the crime I was now being accused of. If I did indeed kill another person and got too drunk to remember, I should just confess right? But what if I didn't do it, and the true murderer then remained free.
I needed to know what was on that footage. I needed to know if the person on the video tape, was me or someone else entirely.
"Can I see the video footage please?"
The steely eyed look which had previously caused me so much uneasiness, changed into a confused look, which for some reason seemed like an omen of even more to come.
"What reason do you have for seeing it?"
I now felt true and unfiltered panic. I didn't even consider how strange that question sounded. I told him adamantly that I was at home and denied any involvement in the murder, and now I was asking to see the evidence. Through his eyes, it was as if I was making sure there was no connection to me. If I told him about my memory loss, it would only make me seem more suspicious than ever.
My mind was going into a state of complete nothingness, and not the Buddhist meditation type of nothing. Rather it was a case of my mind not being able to come up with a single plausible excuse. So of course, I did the only thing I could do. I relied on my 90's crime show knowledge.
"I know officers are allowed to make up false evidence, as a way of making the person they're interrogating, confess. So… it only seems logical to make sure the evidence is in fact, real"
A smile again widened across the officer's face. The smile, then erupted into full blown laughter. While trying to contain his laughter, the officer said.
"I bet you heard that, on one of those old detective shows, didn't you? You're not wrong in saying that we're allowed to do that. But the idea of a person in interrogation, demanding to see evidence, is quite amusing. I probably shouldn't show you the footage, but you did lighten up my day, so I might as well humor you this time.
The officer rose up and slowly walked outside the room, leaving me alone in silence, once again. Amazed at the fact that I somehow managed to talk an experienced officer into that kind of nonsense, I let out a well-deserved sigh. The idea was indeed quite amusing. I guess he was also a human underneath that steely exterior of his. Before this, I'd begun to doubt if he was even human at all.
After what felt like ages of conversation with myself, the old metal door slowly opened up behind me and the footsteps of authority repeatedly hit the floor until, finally. He sat in front of me once again.
He put a small screen in front of me and started the footage that would ultimately determine which action I would take. The actions that would determine my fate in the end.
The old dusty screen, on which the footage was shown, seemed to be older than myself, but I had a feeling that it was something I imagined. Even though my eyes were fixated on the screen, determined to figure out the truth, it was hard, not to look away as a woman was being pummeled to death. The perpetrator was wearing a hoodie, so amidst the action it was still hard to determine whether or not It was me.
When the act itself had come to a close, the perpetrator was fixed in the center of the screen. He never showed his face to the camera, but subtle flashes revealing hair color and other factors would occasionally pop up.
At the end of the footage, I still couldn't completely tell if it was me. It looked like me, but there was no way to be sure.
At this point, my mind subconsciously made a list of pros and cons, but I lost track along the way. Should I confess, or should I not? Could I even confess?
As my mind again reached a blank state, it reverted to a primal state of mind exclusive to humans. The only way it knew how to answer the problematic situation I'd been placed in, was to preserve its own reputation. I couldn't possibly do such a thing, could I?
No, it simply was not possible. I would never confess to something I didn't do, and let a murderer go free. I would stand my ground until the police found sufficient evidence to connect the crime, to the true villain. I couldn't possibly be him. He couldn't possibly be me.
The door opened up behind me. I didn't hear it, but the breeze created by the vacuum send shivers down my spine, and for the first time, I saw the face of a third person. The new man who had suddenly entered the room, waved the officer over to him. I couldn't hear a word of what they said, but somehow it made me nervous.
I couldn't possibly be him
They kept whispering amongst each other, occasionally looking in my direction.
He couldn't possibly be me
The officer took a file from the new person, silently shut the door and walked toward the chair across from me, with the same familiar steely eyed look. As he finally reached his destination, I felt as if I'd also reached mine.
"There's been new evidence. As seen on the footage, the woman was able to claw her way into, the person, shown as the perpetrator. All we needed, was the DNA to be tested, to know if you were guilty or not"
"So… What does it say?"
As the words left my mouth, it felt like my soul left with it.
"It's a positive match, we've got all the evidence we need"
I couldn't possibly be him.
He couldn't possibly be me.
Upon hearing the newly acquired information, I no longer had any control over my body. With a loud crack, the joints in my wrists dislocated themselves, but there was no pain to be felt. The blood sprayed as I lurched forward towards the officer.
My hands were now useless, but my teeth were closing in on him rapidly. A second before impact, the officer disappeared, like a mirage in the desert caused by a lack of water.
There was now, nothing between my jaw and the impending steel floor. The impact caused a crack even louder than the previous one, but there was still no pain.
As I lay on the floor, almost unable to move, I used the remainder of my strength to look up. In front of me stood the officer, but something didn't seem quite right. His eyes were no longer steel-like, but more reminiscent of the flames of damnation.
Two shadows approached me from behind, and the phrase which I will never forget, was now cast out into the world, as an eternal echo of misery.
"Well then, Hell it is. Take him away boys, and bring the next one in while you're at it"