Chapter ３

6 hours later (9:00 a.m.)

Beat, beat, beat.

"Who is it?"

"Agent Travis from the detective's office, I want to ask you a question."

"What?"

"After the nameless man became a corpse, you are a suspect in the nightclub murder. I want to ask you to go to the police station and talk privately."

"Ah... I don't know which John Doe. Hey! Don't touch me! Let go!"

"You have the right to remain silent because of what you say, we can go against you in court. You have the right to have a lawyer. If you don't have a lawyer, the government will provide it for you. You have the right not to answer any questions. You understand your right to be invited to the police station."

"I don't understand anything! I don't know! Let go!"

Pip!

I pressed the remote control and turned off a famous TV show that was playing on TV, starring the handsome young detective Travis, and I kept spinning my fingers around my eyebrows. Why is this series released at the time of the incident I experienced last night? I don't know, people are more worried about having cops coming to me, like that stupid fat guy in this series.

As I stood up and walked up and down the room, I remembered a big man falling down. Then, when I came back from the nightclub at 3:00 a.m. and curled up in my apartment, I was constantly experiencing her femoral head syndrome. I don't know what to do, I'll call the police, I'm afraid I'll be out of luck, because I'm the last one with the body, but I can't keep silent.

Dead people are just around the corner! How can you act like nothing happened!

I pressed the remote again, turned on the TV, changed the channel, found the news channel, and my face popped up. I was looking for news all night, because I wanted to know if anyone found the guy's body? But there has been no news. Even a news, I can't help but find it strange that no one found his body, which was a few hours ago. At least there are nightclub employees. Or the cleaner takes out the garbage behind the store.

Hmm. . . Or they have found the body, but the police don't let them know, but if the police find the body, then it is now the stage of looking for the murderer.

All I can think about is that I put my finger on my nails, and then when the mobile phone on the sofa rings, I get a fright. I reached out and grabbed it again, looked at the name of the person on the screen of my mobile phone, and then pressed it nervously.

"Say,"

How could you leave me last night and then run away and let me sleep there until morning. ] Too mean.

Amelia wrinkled her hair with his cloudy voice, and she suddenly appeared.

"You were drunk and I was tired, so I came back."

Weren't you fighting with someone when I was drunk?

Amelia made me twice as angry. When she said this, I knew she was suspicious, but is it time to bother me now?

"If you don't believe it, then don't bother!" I raised my voice a little according to my mood.

The other party paused first, followed by a sweet impromptu performance.

I'm just asking why you're angry, don't be angry. You know I like you very much, so I'm natural. Excuse me, Kevin, do you want anything special? I'll buy the ransom. ]

She always seduced me with such things, but to be honest, I never asked her to buy anything unless she bought it herself.

"Forget it," I answered immediately, not wanting to go on, but Amelia kept talking.

See me now, and I will fully support you.

You're talking about sex.

"No, I have a headache today. I want to have a rest." I refused almost without thinking. If it was normal time, I would not hesitate to answer her.

[Not feeling well? Shall I go to my room? ] She proposed.

"Tell me not to leave me alone and don't bother me until I contact you."

[Wait, Kevin, but I want to see. . . Tude, Tude]

Ignoring Amelia's cry, I suddenly sat down on the sofa and pulled me for a moment, upset. It suddenly occurred to me that Amelia had just called me and had no reaction to what happened to me last night, which made me want to call her back again.

"Amelia"

[Calling me back so I could come to you] She, in her tone,

"No, I have a question to ask."

[What]

"It's like..." I was silent for a moment, trying to say something to Amelia, but I didn't know what I had to do with that man's death.

[What] Amelia made me blurt out.

"You know what's weird when you come out at a nightclub?"

[What's weird]

"It's like... a terrible or shocking thing," I said, and Amelia was silent for a moment before replying.

No, the only bad thing that happened to me was when I woke up and saw you run away. ]

I breathed a sigh of relief to hear this. If Amelia was at the crime scene until morning, no one found the body.

[Strange question. What can I do for you? Shall I go to the room? ]

She's back. You wanted to come to me.

"No," finally, I cut out the lines and cut out the lines again.

I have to wait. Maybe there will be news soon.

10 hours later (1 pm)

I still sat on the sofa, staring at the news reports on the TV screen. It didn't take long for the news coverage to end, and there was no more news that I had been waiting for. I sighed a long sigh, relieved not to see it. Or sigh that you don't know your destiny.

I changed another channel, found the news program, then stopped on one channel and leaned listlessly on the sofa. I'm not surprised why I died like I went back to my room last night. I didn't even sleep or eat for a nap. I've been nervous and I haven't done anything. Now I'm starting to have a headache, a hangover from last night. And nervous headaches.

I closed my eyes and massaged my temples back and forth, hoping to relieve the pain, but I didn't. Besides not relieving it, there would be nausea complications, and then I decided to get up and take painkillers. But the label on the white medicine bottle said after dinner, so I had to open the refrigerator and stuff into my stomach.

I sat in my chair, ready to put the remaining half-box of spaghetti into my mouth, but when it opened it tasted like it was in my nose. It smelled like spaghetti, but I didn't know why I found it disgusting, and I had to turn around and cough for a while, and I pulled myself together again, held my breath and put it in my mouth. The nausea grew worse as I put the spaghetti into my mouth, and I had to put my fork down, rush to the sink, and suddenly spit it out.

When I got back to normal, I walked back, tossed that box of spaghetti into the trash, spit painkillers down my throat, whatever I needed, and then I went back to the living room, in a state of listlessness.

For God's sake. . . It's too stressful.