The Dead: Silent

The Interrogation

I followed Agent Thompson into the building, trying to process what was happening. As we entered a dimly lit room, I saw a group of agents, all dressed in identical black suits, gathered around a table. They looked like they were ready for an interrogation.

Agent Thompson led me to the center of the room and nodded at her colleagues. "Ah, excellent timing," she said. "We're just getting started."

The agents quickly surrounded me, their eyes fixed on me with an unnerving intensity. One of them produced a rope and began to tie my wrists and ankles, securing me to the chair.

"Okay, let's get down to business," Agent Thompson said, pulling out a folder filled with files. "We're here to solve the mysterious death of Mr. Smith. And we think you might know something about it."

I struggled against the ropes, but they were too tight. Panic set in as I realized I was trapped and at their mercy.

"So, Ava," Agent Thompson began, her voice cold and detached. "Can you tell us where you were on the night of Mr. Smith's death?"

I tried to think back, but my mind was a jumble of confusion and fear. I had no idea what they were talking about.

"I... I don't know," I stuttered.

Agent Thompson raised an eyebrow. "You don't know? That's not good enough. We have reason to believe you were in close proximity to Mr. Smith that night."

I felt a chill run down my spine as they began to question me, their words dripping with accusation and suspicion. I knew I didn't kill anyone, but how could I convince them of that?

As they continued to grill me, I noticed something strange. The agents seemed to be looking for something specific, something that only I could provide.

"What's going on?" I asked, trying to keep my voice steady. "What do you really want from me?"

Agent Thompson's smile grew wider. "Oh, we'll get to that soon enough. But first, we need to unravel the threads of this case."

The agents began to scribble notes and whisper among themselves, their eyes never leaving mine. I knew I had to think fast if I wanted to escape this nightmare.

Agent Thompson leaned in, her eyes piercing. "So, Ava, you're saying you have no memory of the night Mr. Smith died?"

I nodded, trying to keep my expression neutral. "That's right. I don't remember anything from that night."

She scribbled some notes on her pad. "And you're certain you didn't see or hear anything unusual?"

I hesitated, unsure how to respond. "Well, I... I don't think so. I mean, I don't remember."

Agent Thompson's gaze narrowed. "You're not being very cooperative, Ava. Can you at least tell me what you did before the night of the murder?"

I thought quickly, trying to come up with a plausible story. "Uh, I... I went to a movie with friends. We saw a new release at the cinema downtown."

Agent Thompson raised an eyebrow. "At what time?"

I hesitated again, feeling a pang of panic. "Uh... around 7 pm? Maybe 8?"

The agent's expression turned skeptical. "And can anyone vouch for your alibi?"

I shook my head, feeling a bead of sweat trickle down my forehead. "N-no... I don't think so."

Agent Thompson's eyes locked onto mine, and I knew I was in trouble. She wasn't buying my story.

"You're hiding something from us, Ava," she said, her voice cold and detached. "We're going to find out what it is."

I felt a surge of fear as the agents began to close in on me. I knew I had to think fast and come up with a new plan.

Suddenly, one of the agents spoke up. "Ma'am, we've received a message from an anonymous source claiming to have information about Ava's whereabouts on the night of the murder."

Agent Thompson's eyes lit up with interest. "What does it say?"

The agent consulted his notes. "It says Ava was seen arguing with Mr. Smith at a coffee shop near the university campus around 9 pm."

My heart sank as the agents turned back to me, their faces filled with suspicion.

Agent Thompson's eyes bore into mine, her expression unwavering. "So, Ava, it seems we have a discrepancy in your story. Care to explain?"

I swallowed hard, feeling the weight of suspicion crushing me. "I... I don't know what you're talking about."

The agent leaned in, her voice low and menacing. "Don't play dumb, Ava. We have evidence that suggests you were at the coffee shop arguing with Mr. Smith that night."

I shook my head, trying to clear the cobwebs. "I'm telling you, I don't remember anything. And even if I did, I wouldn't know why I was there or what happened."

Agent Thompson's smile was cold and calculating. "We'll get to the truth eventually. In the meantime, let's take a little trip down memory lane."

She pulled out a small device from her bag and pressed a few buttons. The room was suddenly filled with the sound of static, and a faint image flickered on the screen.

"What is this?" I asked, feeling a sense of unease.

"A recording from the coffee shop's security camera," Agent Thompson replied. "It shows you and Mr. Smith arguing about something. Want to take a guess what it was about?"

I felt my heart racing as I stared at the grainy footage. It showed me and Mr. Smith standing near a table, our faces tense and angry.

"No... I don't know," I stammered.

Agent Thompson's eyes narrowed. "Save it for the judge, Ava. We're just getting started."

The agents began to circle around me, their movements deliberate and menacing. I knew I had to think fast or risk being trapped in this nightmare forever.