MILLIE BROWN

The room is cold—colder than I expected. The fluorescent lights hum softly overhead, casting a sterile, artificial glow across the dull gray walls.

The only sounds are the relentless tapping of a keyboard and the ticking of the wall clock. Each tap, each tick, feels like a hammer against my skull, pounding louder than the questions the officers keep hurling at me.

"Millie, focus." The voice is harsh, sharp. It cuts through the haze in my mind, but only barely. "Tell us again, what happened that night?"

I can't focus. Their words are background noise, swallowed by the pounding in my head. Everything from that night feels distant, fragmented. The memories swim in and out of focus, like flashes of a movie reel spliced together incorrectly. Nothing makes sense.

"Where's Leah?" they demand.

Leah. My stomach tightens at the mention of her name. I open my mouth to speak, but all that comes out is a hoarse whisper. "I told you already...he took her. My stalker — he took her through that black...hole..."

The officer, Detective Marshall, leans forward, his face hardening with frustration. He rubs his temples, sighing heavily. "A black hole?" His voice is dripping with sarcasm. "Millie, this is serious. We're talking about murder here. Not some — what? Science fiction crap?"

I flinch at the word "Murder." My mind races, trying to cling to anything that feels real, anything I can explain. But how do I explain something that sounds insane even to me? How do I explain that the last thing I saw was my stalker dragging Leah through some void in the middle of my living room? I barely understand it myself.

"I don't know what happened," I mutter, my voice trembling. "It all happened so fast..."

The tapping of the keyboard resumes, and it's the only thing I can focus on. My eyes drift to the corners of the room, the way the harsh light highlights the stains on the carpet, the way the dull gray walls seem to close in. I can't stop thinking about that night, how I woke up in my bed, my hands soaked in blood.

It comes back to me in pieces.

I had opened my eyes, feeling groggy, disoriented. The first thing I noticed was the blood. It was everywhere — on my hands, on the sheets. My heart had pounded in my chest, panic flooding my veins. My phone buzzed incessantly on the nightstand, messages from friends asking what was up with me tonight and why I acted like that.I had no memory of doing anything, I couldn't even remember when they left. I didn't even remember the party ending.

I had stumbled downstairs, calling out for my mom, but all I found was her lifeless body slumped over the kitchen table. The same way I'd seen it in my dream — or whatever it was. Her blood had already gone cold, staining the tile in sickening pools. My scream echoed in the empty house as I frantically called 911.

And now here I am, sitting in this suffocating interrogation room, the detectives looking at me like I'm the one responsible. As if I killed her. I can barely breathe, my chest tightening under the weight of it all.

Detective Marshall's voice pulls me back into the present. "Millie, where's Leah?" he repeats, his patience thin. "Your friend has been missing since that night. We need answers."

"I already told you," I say through clenched teeth, my voice breaking. "He took her. My stalker — he took her!"

"That's enough," the second officer snaps, slamming a hand on the table. "Do you have any idea how crazy you sound?"

I swallow hard, tears stinging my eyes. I know how it sounds. I know none of this makes sense. But it happened. It *did*.

The detective narrows his eyes. "Let me make this clear, Millie. Your friends have all given testimony that you were acting violent that night. Out of control."

My breath hitches. "What?"

"They said you were acting strange. That you'd been jealous of them for a while, especially Leah."

"That's not true," I whisper, my voice barely audible.

The detective's expression hardens. "Ariana, Jacob and Jeremiah — they all said you were aggressive, especially when no one saw the guy you were ranting about. You were the one acting paranoid."

"No," I shake my head, my vision blurring with tears. "That's not — Jeremiah would never say that."

"But he did" My heart twists painfully. Jeremiah, too? I expected Ariana and Jacob to turn on me —they'd never really cared — but Jeremiah? The one person I thought would believe me? The betrayal sinks in, cold and heavy.

"You're the key suspect, Millie," the officer continues. "And it's only a matter of time before we have all the evidence we need."

I can't hear him anymore. His words dissolve into the background, drowned by the storm raging in my mind. Betrayal, fear, confusion — it all blends together until it's a roaring cacophony of emotions. I feel numb. Nothing makes sense.

My stalker's face flickers in my mind, his eyes dark and unyielding. This all started with him...... The  memory of that night played over and over again. The way he stood in my room, the way he dragged Leah through the void. How could they not see him? How could no one believe me?

A rage I didn't know I had bubbles up inside me, threatening to consume me. They all think I'm crazy. They all think I killed my mother, that I hurt Leah. But they're wrong. They have to be.

I clench my fists, the metal cuffs biting into my wrists. I may not understand what happened, but I will make them pay.

For turning on me.

For doubting me.

For betraying me.

This isn't over. Not by a long shot.