Kevin Keller Must Die

TWO

TWO 

"I didn't fucking do this!" 

They wouldn't believe him. They thought he was delusional; maybe he had thought up this mysterious figure dressed all in black just to derail the attention from himself. 

His father stayed out of the situation; if he included himself, it could be seen as bias, and he could be fired from his job. He didn't want to lose his position as Sheriff. 

"Kevin, you need to calm down. We understand that you have just witnessed is traumatic," one of the policeman said, sitting across from Kevin at the interrogation room. "But, we need you to talk to us. Tell us exactly what happened." 

Kevin rolled his eyes, crossing his arms and leaning back in his chair. "I have. Multiple times already. And you keep telling me I'm lying." 

The other policeman interjected. "We found you covered in blood, Kevin. What are we supposed to think? That you didn't kill him? Because at this point, that seems very unrealistic." 

"I was trying to do CPR! I was trying to stop the bleeding!" Kevin exclaimed, standing up and knocking the chair over. "I didn't fucking kill him!" 

Both policemen stood up, hands on the guns strapped to their waists. They eyed him carefully, watching his every movement. He was stressed and disappointed in the justice system. He had a squeaky clean record, so how could they even begin to think that he could have done something so harsh? It didn't make sense. 

"You need to calm down." 

Kevin ran his hands through his hair, tears forming in his eyes as he looked over at them. "I didn't do this. I didn't fucking do this! I loved him. Dear god, do you hear me?! I fucking loved him!" 

The policemen stood in shock for a moment, watching as Kevin slowly unraveled, leaving behind the strong individual he once was and putting forth a broken shell. He didn't do what they were claiming he had, but by the way he was behaving, he was making himself look guilty. It wasn't his intention, but he was falling apart and at this point, he could care less. 

Maybe being in jail would be better than living this sour life. 

He sniffled as tears rolled down his cheeks. The policemen didn't say anything, only watching him carefully. Their hands stayed on their guns in case he suddenly got violent, though Kevin hadn't planned on it. He wasn't a violent person - angry, yes, but not violent. 

"Sir, you need to calm down." 

Kevin looked over at them, noticing their grips on the handle of their guns. He trailed up their bodies and into their eyes, his heart dropping in realization: they thought he was a real threat. He was devastated. 

Kevin had been a good kid his entire existence; everyone in town loved him. How could these people, who had known him for most of his life, suddenly turn on him and find him to be a reliable threat? 

"Woah. I-I'm not gonna hurt anyone," Kevin muttered, eyes still full of tears and nose dripping snot as he slowly raised his hands up in the air, backing up. He felt his shoulders hit the wall and his eyes went wide in fear. "I-I don't want to hurt anyone." 

The policemen took their hands off the guns, giving each other a knowing look: either this was all an act, or he was serious. They had to take their chances. 

"We'll need you to stay in here for a while," one of them stated. "It appears you need time to calm yourself before we can do a credible interview." 

"We'll be back in a while," the other added. 

Kevin didn't say anything, nor did he move; he stayed in the same position, giving them the same wide, fearful eyes as before. They slowly disappeared from the dim-lit room, leaving the boy by himself for the first time in hours. 

It took him a moment to loosen up, but once he did, he slid down the wall and collapsed into a sobbing heap. His body shook as he cried. His mind was racing with dangerous thoughts and depressing memories of what had just taken place; he had just watched his boyfriend, the love of his life, be killed right before his eyes. 

He saw his boyfriend die, and did nothing but stand there and scream. He didn't fight back or run after the man in black, but rather stared at him in surprise and allowed him to walk away leisurely while Moose collapsed into his arms and bled out. He could have taken his shirt off to rap around Moose; he could have used his belt or his hands to hold the wound to stop the bleeding. He could have done more CPR, maybe even mouth-to-mouth. He just could have done more. 

His chest felt tight as he sobbed loudly. His throat was dry and scratchy, and his stomach churned so much he thought he was going to vomit. The blood was still on his shirt and pants, and the smell was putrid. 

"I didn't do this..." he cried, covering his face with his hands. "I didn't hurt him. I loved him..." 

No one was listening. Everyone was too busy trying to figure out what happened that dastardly night. Why did Kevin have blood on his hands? Why were the two of them in the woods together? Who attacked Moose? And would they be after Kevin next - of course, if the killer is not Kevin? 

Kevin should have listened to Betty when she warned him not to go out, but he didn't. He felt the need to prove to him that he was his own man, and that he knew exactly what he was doing. He wanted to feel like he was in control of his life for once. 

He should have listened. He should have done what she told him to, and realized it was out of love and friendship, not out of wanting to control him. 

And now? Now, he was sitting in the interrogation room at the local police station, wearing clothes covered in the blood of his now deceased lover, and feeling like he was going to vomit at any moment. 

In other words, he was screwed. Royally screwed.