[center][img]http://i703.photobucket.com/albums/ww33/Blurhy/Logo.gif?t=1393209333[/img] [img=http://oi59.tinypic.com/11ryzc3.jpg] [b]Chapter One: Written in Blood[/b] ~~~[/center] The smell of fear, sorrow and anxiety permeated the air. Five figures stood in front of a white wall that had markings for height; in their hands were boards that had some written information about them. Two men in uniform stood guard by the door, eyes intent on the five suspects. The room was unusually bare and empty. Only a mirror on the other side of the rectangular room, and a single door on the left of the five broke the pattern of desolation. Bright, white, phosphorus lights stood rooted in the ceiling above. Their light was blinding if stared at, but it served the purpose of highlighting every detail in the room and on the five figures. Suddenly, a familiar but also unfamiliar voice spoke from somewhere else. Nobody was in the room, yet a voice still spoke to them. "Alright, we know it was one of you who did it," the voice seemed masculine and assertive but somewhat muddled as if blocked by something, "Witnesses have identified each of you and reported that you were at or nearby the apartment residence of the victim. Now, the culprit can come out and admit they were guilty, or we'll have to continue the investigation until we prove it was one of you. And who know's we might find incriminating evidence on all of you." The emphasis that the voice put on the word might, made that word more definite than it should have, as if it was a promise. There was a quiet moment, as the voice let the threat sink in. "Now, which one of you did it?" the voice asked, believing that all five of them knew what it was referring to. "I didn't do it!" yelled the voice of the figure farthest from the door. It belonged to a middle aged man. The man looked as if life had been tough on him; his clothes were drab and simple, his grooming was unkempt. Obviously, he had been handed a bad hand in his life. "I promise 'ya I didn't do it!" The man's voice reeked with despair and honesty, "Why would I kill my own wife?! I LOVED HER! It was one of these guys; I just know it!" A finger was pointed in the area of the four figures to the left. "I just don't know which one did it; it was too dark for me t' see 'em! But I promise 'ya it was one of them! I'm sure of it!" Sweat poured down the man's face, his eyes bulging out of his face, his body trembling. The officer's gripped their weapons a bit tighter now; their eyes focused more on the man who seemed to be on the verge of a breakdown. "Calm down, Mr. Williams, or we'll have to have the officers intervene," the muddled, invisible voice rang back from all sides, "Now, I repeat, one of you fess up now, and maybe we can talk about lowering your sentence a bit." The four other figures were given a moment to speak. After their moment was over, the voice would continue with its routine.