One Halloween, you got hit in the hammer on your head, giving you a life ending injury, you had seven days to solve it. It was Billy.*

He hit you in the head that night with that hammer.

it had to be him.. he had the right tool brand, but the hammer.. the weapon.. was missing.. the police had it. You had been looking for the tape that he said he had put back in the tub, you needed it to solve who did this too you. It was heavy, him calling out if you needed help. But when you didnt respond he came into the room.. you just stared at him.. it all made sense.. everything.. it had to be him.. right..? “It was you.”

“What?” *He took another step. “Don’t come any closer!” You shouted. Pushing yourself to your feet, stumbling. tripping over the abandoned tools. “Stay back!” Billy didn’t stay back, he kept coming. “Jet, what are you talking about?” “It was you,” you said, your head trying to catch up to your heart, pounding, not the trickling of spiders anymore, a drumbeat. ** “You killed me.”
Billy’s pale eyes went cold. Now he stopped. “No, Jet.” “It was you.” ** The world went blurry, until you blinked, tears hot and fast, falling into your open mouth. The taste of salt. “I didn’t, Jet!” Billy kept shaking his head, tendons branching across his throat, eyes wide, full of ice. “It had to be you. The murder weapon is yours.”“Jet, stop!” “You had time, if you were running, to take my phone and the hammer. Your hammer, the one you used to kill me. You had time to get over to the site on North Street, then come back to find me, kick down the door.” “Jet, stop!” He was crying now too. She couldn’t stop. One thing led to another, sliding into place. Drums when she blinked, harder, faster. “You knew about the foundations going in the next morning, because Sophia told you about it at the fair. Told you how important this project was to Luke. You knew about the concrete.” “Please, Jet, you know me,” he cried. “I didn’t know about that hammer, that it came from here. I swear to you. We can work this out together.” “We already did that, this whole week! And you were probably pushing me to look at anybody else but you!” “Jet, stop! I would never hurt you, you know that, you do. Why would I hurt you?” Jet cried, trapped it inside her hand, closed her eyes and listened to the drums. “Because…because you knew my dad wasn’t going to leave the company to Luke, if I was alive. You live next door to Andrew; he could have told you about Nell Jankowski anytime. And if Luke had the company, then you could extort him for money—” “—Jet, stop! None of this is true! You know me. It’s me, Billy!” “Or maybe you did it because you knew it was me who made your mom go away. Maybe that’s why.” “Jet, please!” “Or maybe it’s because I don’t—didn’t—because I didn’t—” —A thunderclap. Not in the sky, in her head, out of nowhere, now everywhere. A pain worse than hellfire and cracking skulls. Everything else just practice, for this moment here. A hurt beyond words, beyond nightmares. Jet screamed. She screamed. One hand to her head but what could that do—it was all coming undone. She screamed. She bent double, all that pain, too much to hold up, her neck stiffening. She crashed sideways into the coffee table, caught herself. “Jet!” She let go, too weak to hold on. On the floor. Billy’s face swimming above her, sitting her up, his hands cupping her face. “Jet!” “It’s happening, Billy.” “No!” Billy was screaming, now she couldn’t anymore. “No! We had more time! We need more time!” Jet shook her head, as much as she could move, the pain moving with it. “It’s happening,” she said. “OK,” Billy swallowed, his face folding in half, fighting his tears. Losing. “It’s OK, Jet. I’m right here.” “Billy—” “—You did it. You did it, Jet,” he cried. “You solved it. It was me. You’re right. You got it right. You did it.” “No, Billy.” Couldn’t shake her head anymore. “Yes, Jet. It was me, it was me, it was me.” He sobbed. “You did it. It was me.”

He was trying to comfort you, give you some sense of accomplishment..