2 Taking Responsibility

You still with me?

Good, because everything that's about to happen next will be left for you to decide whether you wanna believe it or not.

Let me continue...

I wake up on a bed, a really soft and comfortable one that feels brand new, and the first thing I see is an unfamilliar, bright cieling. I tried getting up but I wasn't able to. I didn't feel paralyzed, so I looked down and to my surpise...

I was strapped on a bed. With 3 people in front of me.

A police, obviously on a uniform,

An investigator, the coat and the notebook he had tells me so,

and a guy whose job is something I can't recognize, since he was only wearing casual clothes.

On my left were my parents and my little sister.

As much as I would like to smile at them, it was hard to do so when their faces were painted with disappointment, grief and sadness as waterfalls run down.

There, I realized.

"I'm a suspect, am I?", I said ever so softly even with the intention to say it with strength.

"Good morning, Chris," said that one guy I couldn't recognize what he does. He had glasses on his very young looking, non bearded face. He had sleek black hair combed to the back of his head.

"Chris, I'm officer Mclauren, this is Detective Mickey and Dr. Glaren, a psychiatrist,"coming from the police. In contrast with the other guy, he had a very thick beard and a much bigger build along with a short blonde hair. He was also much taller than the other two.

I see, a psychiatrist. They must think I'm crazy.

This... Isn't even helpful for me. Not in the slightest. Are these guys kidding? This isn't even funny.

"Why am I here?", I asked.

Suddenly the air changed. Or should I say, it became more clear to me that they were serious. It became more obvious to my senses, how heavy this atmosphere is, almost pushing me into the center of the Earth.

"How could you? How could you do this, Chris?", a voice so sweet yet so heartbreaking coming from my mother.

My friends are dead. Their friends are dead.

Yet here I am being framed for everything.

It became so silent that only the lights could be heard buzzing.

Hell, I can even bet you (Assuming you're with me in that very moment) that their families are outside this very building, waiting for a chance to hit me on the face.

Or maybe they already have, which I honestly would prefer more because it would be happening while I was asleep.

Almost panicking, but trying to stay as calm as I can, "Don't I get a chance to explain my side? How about my experience?"

"I believe there is nothing more to explain, kid," proudly but calmly said the detective. His voice was deep and it sounded so strong that he could easily make you believe his words. He wasn't built as well as the officer, but a very strong aura wrapped around him.

He continued, "We found your, and only yours, fingerprints on the knife that was used to kill your friends. The scene was so messy, yet only your fingerprints were on it."

"But... I-"

"Yes, you can't remember, huh? Well, only the drugs found on the very same scene could explain why," the officer added.

No, not a chance. I didn't get a single chance to prove my self.

"For the meantime, you will be taking sessions with me, Chris. I hope we get along," politely said by the psychiatrist, which is honestly to be expected.

"You will be staying in this room from now on. You have books, so read them. We will give you food, drinks and new books if you need any. This is your last chance to say anything to your family," not even a single sign of pitiness came from the detective's face.

They removed the straps before heading out the room to leave me with my family, assuming that I won't do anything.

I won't do anything.

I won't.