Framed as a Peeping Tom, but I'm Blind

I hadn't spoken in a loud voice, but the words still cracked through the commotion, instantly silencing everyone. The neighbors who had been shoving and cursing at me earlier froze in their movements, while the middle-aged woman leading the crowd left her hand hanging in mid-air. It seemed she had forgotten that it was even there.

Everyone stared at me, or to be more accurate, at the milky eyes in my face.

That was the permanent scarring I received from the fire I was caught in three years ago.

The police captain was an older man named Walter Jenkins. He was momentarily stunned, but then he furrowed his brow and snapped impatiently, "Stop trying to scare people with that act! Whether you're truly blind or not can easily be proven with a visit to the hospital!"

The woman who had accused me of peeping on her, Rebecca Zangler, briefly stopped her crying before shrieking at the top of her lungs, "He's lying! He's just trying to weasel his way out of this! How could he possibly be blind? He's at the window every night, peeping on me! Those eyes… Those eyes…"

She seemed to be trying to think of a way to describe my eyes, but the sight of them unnerved her so much that she couldn't find the words. All she could do was point a finger at me while her whole body shook.

"Disgusting! He's just too disgusting!"

Her shout caused the spectating neighbors to stir once more, and they began clamoring.

"That's right! He must be pretending to be blind!"

"Criminals nowadays truly are willing to go to great lengths when committing their crimes! For the sake of evading punishment, he even has the nerve to say he's blind!"

Enraged at the injustice, a younger man charged forward and made to seize me by the collar. "You scumbag! I'm going to deliver justice myself today!"

Captain Jenkins swiftly stopped him. "What are you doing? None of you move! The police will handle this!"

He then turned to me, the suspicion and disgust in his eyes not lessening one bit.

"You're coming with us to the police station."

I didn't resist and calmly held out my hands.

In the next second, a chilly sensation came from my wrists as cuffs were slapped onto them. Following that, I was escorted to the elevator by two younger policemen, one on each side.

Behind me, Rebecca's wailing and the neighbors' cursing of me mixed into a cacophony of noise.

"Scum of society!"

"Get out of our neighborhood!"

"I hope you'll be comfy in jail!"

I could almost see the righteous fury on their faces, as well as hear the smug delight at having stomped someone into the ground in their voices.

Once we entered the elevator, the metal doors slowly shut, cutting off the outside noise.

One of the younger officers, likely new to the job, couldn't resist asking me in a low voice, "Can you… really not see?"

My lips twitched slightly, but I didn't answer.

Another officer patted him on the shoulder and gestured for him to stop talking.

Whatever the case, I knew that deep down inside, their scales were already completely tipped in that crying woman's favor.

After all, one was a young, beautiful, and pitiful white-collar woman, while the other was a suspicious-looking man with sunglasses who lived alone.

To the police officers, it was clear as day who the victim and the perpetrator were.

Nonetheless, they didn't know that what the eyes saw was sometimes actually the biggest lie, and I, a blind man, could "see" what they couldn't.

For example, when Rebecca was tearfully accusing me of the crime, her heartbeat had been steady and calm, not at all like someone agitated.