I knew… I was aware, but I really didn't want to believe it. It had to be him, there he was, the person who knocked who had disturbed my peaceful morning… I had no desire to confront his face first thing in the morning. Give me a chance to sip my coffee in peace.
I was sure he was here to pester me again, endlessly repeating the same things about me.
I didn't quite expect him to ask if I had time for him. I mean, ever since I woke up, all my time was pretty much his. What more could he possibly want from me?
I shot him an annoyed look, my eyes locked onto his deep brown irises. "I'm afraid I don't," I retorted. "And if you don't have a sense of time, let me set it straight for you. It's morning, and you don't just barge into someone's house at this hour. So, I hope that's clear. Goodbye!"
He shot me a strange look, and as I began to back away to close the door in his face, he seized my arm firmly. "Wait," he insisted.
I turned to face him, my irritation escalating. He continued, "I think there's been a misunderstanding. You could say you're under arrest. I have an official document commanding your presence for an official interrogation."
At the conclusion of his statement, he broke into a smug smile, as if he believed he'd gained the upper hand.
Did he really think this was some kind of victory? My expression clearly conveyed my irritation, and that's when he thrust the paper in front of me.
Now, I was beyond annoyed, and it was the last thing I needed in the morning. I grumbled, "I haven't even had my coffee yet. It was a rough night. Can't you wait?"
Maintaining his strong hold on my arm, he pulled me along and retorted, "I'll buy you one. Just hurry up and get in the car."
I resisted, swiftly pulling his hand from my arm. I strode ahead, coming to an abrupt halt and turned to confront him. "What about my mother? I haven't informed her, and she'll be worried sick. I need to go and..."
He interrupted me sharply, stating, "I'll give her a call later. I've got her contact details. Quit being a pain and just get in already."
The car before me was a sight to behold – a sleek, jet-black beauty that practically shimmered in the sunlight.
As I settled into the front seat next to Noah, the plush cushions enveloped me in a warm, inviting embrace, creating a sense of comfort and relaxation.
It felt like my first time ever in a car, unlike the practical old truck my family owned. The distinction between wealth and poverty couldn't have been clearer, and it hit me harder than expected.
He revved up the car's engine and shot me a piercing glance. I could feel his intense gaze, and I met it with my own. Without breaking eye contact, He broke the silence, his words coming out cold and clipped.
"We'll be there in an hour. I'm going to push this car to its limits, so…" His tone left no room for negotiation. Was he trying to give me a heart attack? What was all of this for, anyway?
He went on "so you better start working on recalling those memories of yours," he continued, his voice dripping with frustration. "I don't have any patience for time-wasting."
He hit the gas pedal, and the car shot forward, racing down the road. I bit back the urge to retort; it wasn't my style to let him spew whatever he wanted. It was more like I didn't want to engage with him at this moment, not that I couldn't. Something about the situation just didn't feel right.
The scenery whizzed past, much like it did yesterday, but it all seemed a blur, distorted by our rapid pace. I found myself lost in thought, my eyes scanning the passing trees, houses, and everything in between, each one a fleeting glimpse into a world I was struggling to remember.
How the hell did I end up losing my memories? What was the point of it all? Was it some twisted way of protecting myself, or did I just need a clean slate to start over? But if I do remember, what the hell happens next? What dark secrets are lurking in the corners of my forgotten mind?
Noah's right, I can't even trust myself right now. Those strange things that happened to me at night, those voices in my head, they were too real to be just a damn dream.
I wish I could just wake up from all of this, because right now, it feels like I'm stuck in some kind of twisted nightmare.
Out of nowhere, a hand landed on my shoulder, and I jolted in my seat. I turned to see Noah giving me one of his signature annoyed looks.
"I've been calling your name. Were you seriously asleep with your eyes open?" he grumbled. "Whatever, we're here. Get out."
I shot back with a sly grin, "Sure thing, no need to be so touchy."
I approached the colossal police station, my eyes stretching wide to encompass the enormity of its entrance.
Yet, an odd sensation simmered in my chest, akin to hot water pouring in, it was as if I'd been here before. Perhaps it was because this was the city's only major police station, and I'd crossed paths with it before.
Noah flicked his hand, signaling me to follow. I couldn't help but feel he was making a mountain out of a molehill; it was just an interrogation, after all.
I trailed behind Noah as he engaged in conversation with a man who appeared to be in his forties or thereabouts.
He turned his gaze toward me and remarked, "I understand I am the one who is responsible for the dormitory case."
What! Could this be Teresa's younger uncle? I hadn't expected to meet him here. I glanced at Noah and then back at the man. Oddly, I found myself speechless.
The man continued, his voice resonating with strength and depth, "Unfortunately, in your case, we've reviewed your situation and..."
He trailed off, a momentary silence hanging in the air before he added, "Let's head to the interrogation room. Noah, come along."
Noah forcefully gripped my arm and escorted me into a small room. The walls were adorned with mirrors or so it seemed, a table with chairs occupied the center, and I settled into one of them. They sat across from me, and the room felt confined with just the three of us.
Teresa's uncle regarded me with an air of seriousness before uttering, "As I mentioned earlier, over the past month, we've thoroughly analyzed what your behavior might be if you were to wake up. Unfortunately, we've arrived at only one course of action suitable for your current situation - we will treat you as a criminal."
He interlocked his fingers, clasping them firmly together while maintaining his intense gaze on me. He went on, "But don't worry, it doesn't necessarily mean you are one, although the most likely scenario is that you are a suspect in a murder case."