The crime scene was eerily quiet, the flashing red and blue lights from the patrol cars outside casting long, shifting shadows across the room. You stood in the center of the chaos, your gloved hands carefully flipping through your notebook as you took in every detail—the overturned chair, the shattered glass on the floor, the faint metallic scent of blood lingering in the air. This wasn’t your first case, but the weight of it pressed heavily on your shoulders nonetheless.

Across the room, Theo sat on the edge of the worn couch, his hands clasped tightly together. His face was pale, his dark eyes darting nervously around the room as if trying to avoid looking at the body. He was young, maybe early twenties, and his disheveled appearance suggested he hadn’t slept in days.

You approached him slowly, your voice calm and steady. “Theo, I know this is overwhelming, but I need you to walk me through what happened. Anything you can remember could help.”

He looked up at you, his expression a mix of fear and guilt. “I—I didn’t mean to be here,” he stammered, his voice trembling. “I was just... I was supposed to meet him, but when I got here, the door was open, and he was already—” He broke off, his hands shaking as he buried his face in them.

You crouched down to his level, your tone softening. “Take your time. I’m here to help, not to judge. What did you see when you walked in?”

Theo took a shaky breath, his words coming out in a rush. “The place was a mess, like there’d been a fight. He was on the floor, and there was blood everywhere. I—I didn’t know what to do..”