The knock on the door shattered the fragile peace of my solitude. With a sinking feeling in my gut, I knew who it was before I even opened it. The police. They had finally come for me, like wolves at the door, ready to drag me into their web of suspicion. I took a deep breath and opened the door to find two detectives standing on my doorstep, their expressions grim and unyielding. "Alex Grant?" one of them asked, his voice flat and authoritative. I nodded, trying to appear calm despite the storm raging within me. "Yes, that's me." "We'd like to ask you a few questions about the night of October 15th," the other detective said, his eyes boring into mine with a steely intensity. My heart skipped a beat. October 15th. The night Lily was murdered. I swallowed hard, trying to push down the rising panic threatening to overwhelm me. "Of course," I managed to choke out. "Please, come in." They stepped into my small, cluttered room, their presence casting a shadow over everything. I could feel their eyes dissecting every corner, every object, searching for any clue that might incriminate me. "Where were you on the night of October 15th?" the first detective asked, his voice like ice." I was supposed to meet up with Lily," I blurted out before I could stop myself, the words tumbling out in a rush. "But she never showed, and when I went looking for her, I found her like that. "The detectives exchanged a knowing glance, their skepticism palpable in the air. "And you didn't think to report it?" the second detective asked, his tone laced with suspicion." I panicked," I admitted, my voice barely above a whisper. "I didn't know what to do." "We'll need you to come down to the station for further questioning," the first detective said, his voice final. My heart sank. I knew what this meant. They thought I was involved. How could they not? I was the last person to see Lily alive, and now she was dead. I was their prime suspect, and I knew it. As they led me out of my house, I couldn't help but wonder if this was the beginning of the end for me. Would they see through my lies and uncover the truth? Or would I spend the rest of my days rotting away in a prison cell for a crime I didn't commit? The detectives led me out of my house, the weight of their suspicion heavy on my shoulders. As we made our way to the police station, I couldn't shake the feeling that I was walking into a trap, willingly surrendering myself to be ensnared by their doubts and accusations. In the car, the detectives kept a watchful eye on me, their silence more unnerving than any interrogation could ever be. I could feel their judgment, their certainty that I was guilty lurking beneath their professional facade. The station loomed ahead, a fortress of justice that now felt more like a prison. I followed the detectives inside, my steps heavy with dread. In the interrogation room, they sat me down at a cold metal table, the harsh overhead lights casting long shadows on the walls. I felt like a specimen under a microscope, every flaw and imperfection laid bare for scrutiny. The questioning began, relentless and unforgiving. They probed every detail of my story, searching for inconsistencies, for any shred of evidence that would confirm their suspicions. "Why didn't you call for help when you found her?" one of the detectives asked, his voice cutting through the silence like a knife. "I was scared," I replied, the truth of my words echoing in the room. "I didn't know what to do." "And you expect us to believe that?" the other detective scoffed, his disbelief palpable. I clenched my fists, frustration bubbling up inside me. They didn't understand. They couldn't possibly understand the whirlwind of emotions that had consumed me in that moment. "We'll need you to stay in town for the time being," the first detective said, his tone leaving no room for argument. "There's no light way to put this you're our prime suspect, Mr. Grant. And until we find evidence to prove otherwise, you're not going anywhere. "The words hit me like a punch to the gut. Prime suspect. The weight of the accusation hung heavy around my neck, suffocating me with its implications. As the detectives left the room, leaving me alone with my thoughts, I couldn't help but wonder how I had ended up here. How had a simple crush led to this nightmare? And more importantly, how was I going to prove my innocence when everything seemed to be stacked against me?