Choose (Interactive Mentalist Story)

1A

You decide to take the stuffed tiger and pretend that you've had it for a long time and that it had nothing to do with Sean's death.

Before leaving the room, you quickly grab the stuffed tiger to take it with you to your bedroom. If it was a personal message, you and only you should be the one to figure out what kind of message it could be. What are the cops going to do with a stuffed tiger anyway? You decide to put it in the lowest drawer of the big wooden closet standing in opposite of your bed. It's the drawer that contains your socks, so you bury the thing inside and you conceal it with some colorful socks you've never worn before. You prefer black, grey and white because they match your shoes and clothes more.

You close the door behind you and you head downstairs, to your lovely couch and your best friend, the television. Sighing, you take a seat and let your still shaking body relax for a moment. You just want to sink into the couch and never move again. You close your eyes and think about the scene you took in just a minute ago. His throat had been cut and he lay like a butchered animal in a waste of blood.. He lay staring up at you, his once moving but now completely still mouth opened, his head almost cleft from the body. It was an awful sight, but it didn't seem to affect you that much as you thought it would.

The things that are in fact puzzling you are things like; Who could've killed Sean and what was their motive? Is it really the person you think it is? How even did he sneak into the house while you were sitting here?  Questions that you can't find answers for flash through your poor, aching skull. Why this, why that? How on earth, who?

You hear the police sirens in the distance and you reluctantly get up from the oh so soft couch. As the noise is coming closer, you become more anxious. What if the cops are going to think you were the one who killed Sean? You must admit, it is kind of suspicious that you were just watching television while he was getting murdered just a couple of meters away from you. You were so close and yet so far away. Was it your fault he got murdered?

Your little interrogation in your head gets interrupted by a loud, thud knock on the front door. It makes you flinch a little. You didn't expect them to arrive so quickly. Maybe it was because you were so lost in your thoughts. You always get lost in your thoughts. You used to be called a dreamer in high school, only because you never payed attention in class. As a creative and an artistic person, science, maths and physics never interested you. Especially maths. You just never understood any of the things your teacher explained. It was as if it was magic. That might be a good description of science, maths and physics. It's pure magic if you don't understand anything of it.

"Ma'am, CBI."

Oops. Lost in thoughts, again.

You open the door and greet the agents. You quickly give them information about the house. Three of them go upstairs, one stays with you downstairs to ask you some questions. It was a brown haired agent with big brown eyes, a kind expression on his face. He's wearing a suit that perfectly fits his muscular figure. This man has surely my permission to sneak into my room at night.

"Hello? Mrs Martins?"

Oh shit.

"Sorry. I'm still kind of upset. Don't call me Mrs Martins. I wasn't married to Sean."

"That's understandable. I'm agent Rigsby from California Bureau of Investigation, aka CBI. We're here because you've reported a homicide. I have to ask you some questions if you're okay with that."

You nod. This is going to be a long night.

"For how long have you and your boyfriend been dating?"