Today - Nine Forty-five AM

My head aches, and my body shivers. But I'm not cold. I lean back and I feel a cool touch on my back. I move to inspect it but my hands are restrained in shiny metallic cuffs that are in turn restrained to a silvery, metallic table that also stands before me.

"Just...great." I groan and begin to close my eyes a bit. My head is still pounding like a constant game of whack a mole, which makes it harder to keep my eyes open for longer periods of time.

With what I can see, the room is dark but not too dark. There is a mirror on the wall to my left, it is most likely a one way mirror that officers used to spy on the suspects but not allow the suspects to see them. I am usually on the other side of those. The floor seems to be an old tiled floor; it might be the light, but it looks like someone has not washed it in quite some time. Blood stains are quite visible on the ground around the chair which I sit and there is a slight smell of vomit wafting around the room. The walls appear dark with its paint slowly peeling off of it.

I close my eyes, trying to wake up from this horrible dream.

The only door in the room sends a shrilling noise through my ears as it creaks open. I hesitantly open my eyes to see a man enter the room carrying a stack of papers in his hands. He walks over to the table and places the papers down on the table and then pulls his chair out before he takes a seat on it. The man shuffles the papers around a bit before laying five images out in front of me and keeping the remaining stack of papers by his side.

My eyes scan the images on instinct. But then I force myself to look up at the man who sits across from me. His amber eyes meet with my emerald eyes, his espresso toned skin appears darker with the darkened room. He sports a nicely trimmed beard, that connects his moustache to his hair.

He reaches down below the table and seamlessly pulls out a desk lamp before placing it onto the table with grace. He then turns the lamp light on and its blinding light shines brightly in my eyes, causing me to close my eyes and turn away.

"So, Mary is it?" The man speaks, his voice is deep and strict.

"Y-yeah?" I let my eyes adjust to the burning light and I can see him staring intently my way.

"So, I bet you are wondering why you are here." He leans back in his seat as he speaks, overlapping his fingers as he clasps his hands together and places them in his lap.

"N-not really." I reply softly, sitting forwards on the chair. "You- well other officers, kind of busted into our hotel room and arrested my partner."

"I see," he speaks, his tone is softer while his gaze remains fixated on me. "So, do you wish to tell me more about your partner?"

"Will it get me out of here faster?" I respond with a question and the corner of his mouth curls a little to form a smirk.

"No, it will not." He responds, tilting his head from one side to the other and then he readjusts his position on his chair. "So please, tell me what you know about your partner."

"Well then," I sigh and lean back in my seat, my gaze drifting to the cuffs on my wrists. "Their name is Charlie Time, and they work as a bartender somewhere near the Rec Room in Toronto." I finish, looking back up at the officer.

"Interesting." He comments, bringing one hand up to rub his beard and moustache. "Do you know what happened the night before we picked you up?" He raises his left eyebrow, while he continues to stroke his beard.

"I do not." I reply with confidence, "I remember nothing of that night."

"Are you sure about that?" He asks, pulling the hairs of his beard out before resting his hand back onto his lap.

"I am." I reply shortly, not caring if I had cut him off or not. The tone of his voice makes my heart beat fast, but not in the exciting way. It is in the "he is making me so mad and I am about to snap" way.

"I assume that you have looked over the images already," he comments, pointing to the papers that he had laid out in front of me. "Do any of these look familiar to you?"

My gaze graces the images carefully. There are five images in total. The first image on the far left is of a woman. She's smiling, but I do not recognize her. I lean in a little closer to that particular sheet, for I can see something lurking behind her. It looks as though a figure is holding a knife, hiding behind the woman, but it is too grainy to really tell if it is or isn't.

The second image in the line up is of a couple empty alcohol glasses, but on the sides of one is the imprint of a hand, except the imprint is with some sort of purple goo like substance. It does not seem like the glasses are at a bar in the image, as the glasses themselves appear to be ones that someone would own in their household.

The third image shows a brown bottle, one that could have possibly been a beer bottle at some point. The label appears to have been ripped off, but whoever ripped it had done a terrible job at doing so, as they left some behind. From the letters that remain on the bottle, I assume that it was a bottle of Corona beer. On the bottle, it appears as though there is a handprint on it, but unlike the glasses from the other image, this one was in a red appearing substance.

Not wanting to dwell on what kind of substance it was, my gaze shifts towards the fourth image. It appears to be a selfie of a couple about to kiss, the people in focus in the image do not look familiar to me. But as I squint my eyes and look closer to the image, I can see a figure behind the apparent happy couple. The figure looks like they are holding a glass that is similar to one of the glasses from the second image. It is a little hard to tell because of the grain in the background, but the figure looks a lot like Charlie. But how could Charlie be there when she was with me? And I don't remember meeting any of the people in these images.

I turn to the final image that was laid on the table. It is a selfie - or appears as one - of a girl wearing black, reflective sunglasses. I do not recognize the girl, but she seems to be smiling in the image. But something in the reflection of her glasses catches me off guard; there appears to be a figure coming towards her with - what I can tell - is a kitchen knife. But the figure's face is clearer than the other images. The figure's face... it looks like... me.

I lean back in my seat to try to get a mental note of what this means. But how is this possible when I am certain that I have never met that girl before in my life? Man... why can't I remember what happened? I look over towards the officer again, eyeing him closely.

"No, none of these look familiar to me." I respond with a blunt tone, holding my arms in my lap. I wish I could cross them, but the handcuffs restrict me to do so.

"Are you sure about that?" He speaks softly, "why don't you take an even closer look."

"I said, none of them look familiar to me." I snap at him, "I do not understand what beer bottles and empty glasses and photographs of people have to do with me."

"Well you see, these images were found on your phone." He comments in a low whisper.

"Why the hell did you go through my phone?" I growl, clenching my teeth together as I try hard to keep my cool.

"We had a warrant to do so," he says, leaning forwards and moving his hands to the table. "We had suspicions to believe that you and your partner were involved in a mass murder on Tuesday night. We were not disappointed in what we found." He continues, leaning in closer while he caresses the papers beside him in a circular motion.

"How many times do I have to tell you, I Do Not Remember What Happened!" I enhance each word carefully as I speak, trying hard to get it through his head. Although, I feel like he will not listen to what I have to say unless it proves his point.

"That's not what your partner said." He replies in a smooth tone, leaning back in his seat. "So, it is your word against theirs. So, who am I to believe?" He asks, clasping his hands together again.

"I said I do not remember. If I did I would tell you, but I don't." I exhale deeply, becoming visibly upset with him and his non-stop questions.

"Alright. Let me tell you what we're going to do." The officer leans forwards and places his elbows onto the table. "I will leave you be, to think for a moment. To possibly go over your story and think it over before I return." He pauses, eyeing me carefully. "I will be going out to get some Tim Hortons, would you like me to pick you up anything?" He asks nicely.

"Uhm... maybe an iced cappuccino and a sour cream glazed donut." I reply hesitantly, I am hungry and it was nice of him to ask, but I am sure that he will not return with the food for me. "Also, maybe a farmer's sausage wrap too?" I ask, my tone is soft and hesitant.

"Okay." He smiles calmly as he stands from his seat. "I will be back in an hour to give you some time alone to think. Use that time wisely." He reiterates his previous statement as he heads towards the door. "Also, you might want to get comfy in your seat, you might be here for some time still." He smiles before he opens the door and leaves the room, taking his dear time to close the door behind him.

I lean back in my seat and stare up at the ceiling.

"Ah shit, I forgot to tell him what size of drink." I silently gasp, turning my head back to the door. "Oh well..., too late now." I let out a sigh as I lean back again, waiting for the potentially nice officer to return. The only noise echoing in the room is the occasional grumble expelling from my hungry stomach.

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Chapter word count: 1875