The Eyes of Hell

As I opened my eyes, they were immediately hit with a ray of light unbeknownst to me.

"Do you know why you're here"

A strange voice had asked me a question out of the blue, but I didn't know how to properly respond.

"Where am I?"

"Answer the question. Do you know why you're here?"

"No, I don't even know where 'here' is"

"look around genius. Where do you think you are?"

My eyes had finally adjusted themselves to the unfamiliar light source, so I gave myself the freedom of scouting out my surroundings. Four massive concrete walls loomed over me, as if they were going to collapse at any given moment, hurling me toward damnation. The ceiling was brightly lit up with a dozen or more increasingly intense lamps, blinding me with a celestial force. Even though there was no shortage of light, a feeling of darkness and uneasiness, seemed inevitable.

While I was observing the conditions in which I'd been placed, an increasingly annoying itch, build up on the left side of my head, near the bottom of my ear. I slowly raised my hand to scratch, but less than halfway up its perilous journey, my hand was locked in place by an unknown force. The newly found nuisance forced my eyes to focus on the exact spot of impact and what I saw was not pleasant. My hands had been chained to the table which I was evidently sitting at. I had handcuffs on.

While I had been trying to properly ascertain the situation, the man sitting across from me didn't let his eyes leave me for even a second, as if he was a predator slowly waiting for his prey to show just a tiny bit of weakness, on which he could capitalize.

"It seems you've finally regained your composure"

"Why am I handcuffed in an interrogation room?"

"You don't have to act confused, just confess what you've done, and make this easy for both of us"

"I don't even know what you're talking about"

"Okay, let's get on with the show then"

His hand reached toward a case file lying on the cold hard steel of the table. The case file opened silently at the behest of the man and he slid a picture over to me with the gracefulness of an owl flying silently through the night.

"An act of extreme violence was committed last night, at the Cobra Arcade Bar"

The silence continued as I looked down on the picture. It was a grotesque picture of a woman beaten to death, by violent means. My body automatically reacted, by looking away at a slight angle and pushing the picture back in the direction of the officer.

"What does this have to do with me? you're not suggesting that I'm involved with whatever barbaric methods caused that, are you?"

"Mister, where were you last night?"

As I thought about where I was last night, the only thing my mind could come up with, was a vast space of nothingness. Trying not to panic, I said the only thing that seemed logical.

"I was at home, relaxing after a long day of work"

"We know for a fact that you were at the scene of the crime, in the timespan of the murder. We've had multiple eyewitness accounts detailing the perpetrator as someone who looks exactly like you"

"Just because someone who looks like me, committed an awful crime, it doesn't mean that I'm to be held accountable for it, does it? I was at home"