The next day, I woke up with a fever, so I couldn't go to school. The police came and questioned me, and I told them everything I could say, without letting out the cat out of the bag. But at a point, It seemed to me that one of them, Jim already knew that I was the one who stabbed the culprit because he kept asking the question, "Who handled this knife on that night?" He brought out the little sharp knife out of a bag, with his gloves on his hands and asked me to take a close look at it
"Who owns this knife? Does it look like your mother's?" He asked
"I don't know. We have so many knives, so I don't know if this is hers" I lied. Of course, I avoided his stare which bore into my soul.
"Take another close look at it. See, it is very sharp and has a smooth body. Look, it is very small too. It's a kitchen knife" he said pointing to the knife
"I can see it, Mr Jim. I don't know who has the knife. Probably the assassin's knife"
"No. This is his" he said and brought out another knife. "
