Masked Murderer |:| Twenty One Pilots

63

One Week Later

My eyes opened and my body ached. I had spent of my time in this shit hole laying down.  Catching up on any sleep that I had ever missed in my life. I think I managed to get ahead actually.

I have been in here one whole week and have not had any visitors at all. That shouldn't surprise me but, it does. My trial is in a few days, which makes absolutely no sense to me. Why do I even get one if no one has been listening to me from the start?

At this point I don't even care if I get out or not, I'm sick of fighting. I'm sick of everyone working against me when I know the truth. I'd rather rot in this cell than fight for one more fucking minute.

I stared up at the celling, calling it down in hopes it would crumble down and take me out. One thing I have noticed so far is that, this is the best I have felt since the incident. In fact, I just feeling nothing. Like I am a void full of positive energy and negative energy that just clashes and cancels everything out in the end.

I don't even know if they caught Rodger, and judging by how long I've been here I'm guessing they didn't.

He really won didn't he. Why did he have to drag me into this mess? Why couldn't he have just disappeared without making me get accused of murdering him?

My mind felt slow, these questions had danced through my conscious mind millions of times these past couple of days. I don't have the energy to think about them.

A tapping on the bars of my cell caught my attention. I looked over towards the noise.

"Joseph, we need you in the questioning room." The tall buff, dark hair guard said in his low voice.

I heard his keys rattle and the door screeched open. I figured I better get up and play along. I walked up to the man and turned around, putting my hands behind my back for him to hand cuff. He led me down the hallway and I realized that it was late, like midnight late.

As we walked through the hall of cells, I saw most of the in ages were asleep, except for a few who stared me down with a threatening glare. We entered the questioning room. The table sat in the middle with some folders and there was a one way glass window we could see out.

I sat in the chair and he cuffed me to it. A door on the other side of the room opened and a larger man in a suit came in. He was smiling a little.

Why?

"Hello Tyler, I am detective Dallon." He held his hand out for me to shake but quickly pulled it back and ran it through his hair to try and cover up his mistake.

I just looked at him.

"I'm here to go over what happened that day when you and your friend were hanging out."

"I didn't kill him." I said with force behind my voice.

Dallon took a seat across from me and pulled out a little notebook form his pocket. He scribbled something down, probably what I just said.

"I need you to tell me what happened, absolutely everything."

I sighed and leaned forward, the handcuffs pushing against my wrists, causing them to burn.

"I went fishing with Rodger, we were messing around, he fell in the water, I pushed the boat over him, he drowned." I said in a monotone voice. I don't think they will ever get sick of me telling them this story.

He scribbled some more bullshit, which for all I know could be a shopping list, and then looked up at me expectantly. Like he wanted something else, like what I said wasn't good enough or something.