I seem to get what he's after, Even if I'm not a murderer, they intend to make me one.
They'll exploit my complete memory loss, won't they? Trusting anyone is out of the question, not even myself.
Damn it, who could have imagined life would turn out to be this challenging!
I stared straight into the man's eyes, irritation clearly etched on my face, and said, "I don't know what kind of situation or probability you've assessed me with... All I can say is, I simply don't remember anything."
Trying to dissect the entire scenario from every angle seemed like a daunting task.
Analyzing their responses, Noah shot me a smirk and chimed in, "Haven't I told you to cut the crap with your nonsense? This whole thing is fabricated, isn't it? Just confess!"
The intense gaze from Teresa's uncle weighed heavily on me, while Noah's presence added an extra layer of tension to the atmosphere.
I could feel the nervousness creeping in, as if I were somehow involved in these murders.
I felt utterly powerless, but I knew deep down that I had to... I had to become what I needed to be.
I shot Noah a furious glare and retorted, "I have no idea why you're bothering with this pointless chatter. You've got no evidence against me, and you're attempting to mess with my head, turning me into some sort of murderer. Do you really think I wouldn't see through a manipulator like you?"
I took a few deep breaths to cool my temper and continued, my anger still simmering, "I'm pretty sure I've dealt with countless people like you before. So, if you get it, cut the crap and gather whatever you need for your case. Like you said earlier, I don't enjoy wasting my time either..."
Teresa's uncle made a hand gesture to silence me and then spoke, his tone somewhat softer, "We understand. It must be challenging for you, waking up after a month in a coma with no memories. It's alright; we'll consider that in our investigation. All we need from you is to answer my questions. Do you understand?"
I nodded and replied, "Yes, that's fine."
He lowered his hands from his chin, picked up one of the papers from the table, and studied it intently.
It appeared like he was quite focused, while Noah just continued to fix his gaze on me.
Then, Teresa's uncle inquired, "Do you happen to know what you're studying or what level of education you're at currently?"
I sensed that he was steering the conversation towards my personal life, not the case itself.
I responded, "Yeah, I'm in university. I'm fairly new there, but strangely, I can't recollect much about it. I just know I'm a student."
Yeah, that's actually the truth. What I recall about myself feels like spewing out facts, like understanding the difference between black and white.
It's more like something I just inherently know, like walking or how to write... which is really strange.
He made a contemplative sound, a kind of "umm," and gazed at me with curiosity. Then he asked, "So you don't have any memories of the dormitory, not even a trace?"
I shook my head to indicate that I didn't have any memories of the dormitory.
He continued, "As you know, if you were at the dorm on your first day, would you have been able to make friends right away, given your current personality?"
It was a peculiar question he posed, and I replied, "Well, it depends. I really don't know..."
He was searching through the papers, his hands shuffling through them, and then he picked up a photograph and mentioned, "Well, I suppose this might be your last question, I guess."
He presented me with a photograph of a man who had striking silver-blue hair and bright blue eyes, flashing a vibrant smile.
Damn it, why was my chest suddenly constricting again, this burning sensation that felt like a fire raging inside me.
Have I encountered this person before? I had a hunch that I might have, but something inside me urged me like I shouldn't have.
I winced slightly, my face contorted in mild discomfort. Noah glanced at me, his curiosity apparent, and inquired, "What's going on with you? Do you recognize him?"
The uncle halted Noah with a simple hand gesture, then inquired, "Do you recognize him? He's the victim... named Ethan."
My heart raced as I realized this was Ethan, the one whose heart had been gruesomely torn from his chest.
I stammered, "I have a feeling like I've crossed paths with him before, but I can't say for sure..."
An unsettling sensation churned in my stomach, threatening to surface as nausea. I clamped down on it and I fought back the urge to vomit.
I couldn't afford to raise any further suspicions or problems to the complexities of the situation.
The elderly man rose from his seat, gazing down at me before turning his attention to Noah.
He declared, "Our questioning is done for now. You can head back home, but be aware that we may summon you again if necessary."
As he exited the room, Noah wore a dissatisfied expression. He shot an angry glare in my direction and grumbled, "I've got some other business with you. Come on, let's head to the waiting room."
I let out a tired sigh and reluctantly got to my feet, trailing after him.
We entered the room marked "waiting room," and there she was—a young woman, her eyes instantly locking onto Noah.
She stood up, an expectant look on her face as she asked, "So, did you get him?"
Noah appeared flustered and nervous, but he turned his gaze back to me. I was right behind him, and he shot me a bizarre look, a familiarity in his eyes that grated on my nerves. Annoyed, I couldn't help but snap, "What are you staring at?"
He turned back to the woman and then glanced at me before introducing us, saying, "Let me introduce you to her, she is Hanna, Ethan's wife."
He shifted his gaze back to Hanna and continued, "He is Jeffery, the witness… who can't remember anything."
Hanna shot me a glare, her anger evident, but she managed to put on a smile as she said, "Yes, nice to see you, Jeffery. I hope you get well soon and can help us with my husband's case. Excuse me now, I have to go home."
She exited the room, and I shot an angry look at Noah. I was aware that he might be an adversary, yet I couldn't help but feel like I had let my guard down.
I should've been more cautious before getting involved in this.
My frustration and sadness boiled over, and I said, my voice heavy with emotion, "Do you really think I wouldn't figure out what this was all about?"
Noah appeared somewhat panicked for no apparent reason, and he stammered, "What if you did? I just wanted to see if you recognized her..."
I let out a frustrated sigh and looked up at the ceiling. "So, you brought me here just so she could see me and check if she recognizes me? Of course, she couldn't visit me in the hospital. She's neither family, nor a detective, nor a doctor... Why do I feel so annoyed? Did you really think I wouldn't see through this?"
Noah appeared utterly speechless, and I pressed on, my irritation escalating. "Or did you think I'd suddenly feel guilty for her, thinking I killed her husband, and I'd confess on the spot? Confessing is just damn pathetic for a killer to do. I'm so done..."
Without another word, I turned on my heels and walked out of the police station.
The sun hit me with its blindingly bright light, temporarily blinding me.
I had no idea what to do next, where to go, or who they thought I was. This was all so messed up! Damn it.