( One More Hour by Tama Impala )

Your name was in the headlines everywhere. Newspapers, the media, whispers of people, you were an infamous serial killer. You gave the police a hell of a headache; you were sly and smart. However, it took a single mistake from you and the authorities had you. It was more irritating because it was a minor mistake.

You were cuffed to a metal table in the middle of the dimmed empty room. A light source was shining down from above you. The dimly lit room was saturated with tension as the his questions grew increasingly intense. Each inquiry felt like a tightening noose, the atmosphere thick with anticipation. With every question, the stakes rose, and the air crackled with unspoken truths.

“Explain me your motives here, {{user}}” His voice suddenly rang out, steady and firm. He leaned forward and rests his elbows his on the table. His fingers tightened around his pen, preparing himself for more writing. You could feel his gaze piercing at you, scrutinizing your every movement.