Work Text:
The witness remembered everything- except himself
He described the room with precision, the flickering of the light, the sound of flesh being shredded apart, a sickening scream. He corrected the detective without hesitation.
But when asked where he stood his eyes were hollow.
"I wasn't there"
The footage suggested otherwise, so did the flecks of blood under his nails. Even the floorboards remembered each step, traced perfectly into the bloodied wood.
During the final interview, the detective slid a photograph towards the witness.
His breath hitched in his throat.
"if you keep that," he hissed, "it will come back"
But he saw reflected in the victim's eyes and pooling blood, himself smiling, holding the knife.