Chapter 3

“What kind of attitude is that? Do you even know where you are?!” Officer Wright let out a cold laugh. “Let me make this clear. Once you’re in here, don’t put on airs. And just because you’re a woman doesn’t mean you’re the victim! You won’t talk? Fine. We’ve got plenty of ways to make you talk!”

The chair screeched harshly as it was shoved back. He rose to his feet and lowered his voice. “Lock her up first. Once we get the warrant, search her place thoroughly. I want to see how long she can keep this up.”

The door opened again. Two officers walked in and grabbed my arms, one on each side.

I did not resist.

The moment Curtis called the police, I already realized that this was not a misunderstanding. It was a setup. Since they dared to go this far, they must have already prepared the evidence.

Next, they would search my apartment—things that were never there to begin with. I would be permanently branded as a voyeur and a harasser. There would be no way to clear my name unless I tore this trap apart first.

…

The cold iron door slammed shut behind me with a heavy echo. I was locked in a temporary holding cell. The room was small. There was only a hard cot and a toilet. The air smelled of disinfectant mixed with stale dampness.

I traced the wall slowly, found the bed, and sat down, listening quietly to the sounds outside.

Footsteps echoed up and down the hallway, mixed with deliberately hushed whispers.

“That’s the sicko who was spying on people?”

“She looks normal. Didn’t expect something this disgusting.”

“I heard she’s blind. Probably faking it.”

“Who knows? Either way, she’s done for.”

Their voices were like fine needles, piercing into my ears one by one.

I had long been used to darkness. However, for the first time, it felt cold enough to cut.

About two hours later, the metal door opened again. It was Officer Wright. He was holding a transparent evidence bag. His steps were noticeably lighter. He waved it in front of me.

“Yvie, take a look at this.”

Then, as though remembering I could not see, he scoffed and answered his own question.

“We found this under your windowsill… A pair of military-grade binoculars!”

There was barely concealed triumph in his voice. “And this!”

Another evidence bag hit the table with a soft plastic rustle.

“A digital camera. It’s full of photos of Curtis, taken from every angle. Filthy stuff! So, is there anything you’d like to say now?”

I did not respond immediately. Deep down, a storm was already raging.

That was fast. The evidence was already perfectly in place in such a short time.

Officer Wright noticed my silence and assumed I had nothing left to say. He pulled over a chair and sat across from me, his tone suddenly shifting into something almost persuasive.

“Yvie, you’re still young. You’re not without options. Why go down this path? Now that the evidence is all here, denying it won’t help. If you confess early, I might be able to put in a good word for you and get you a lighter sentence.”

A statement was pushed in front of me. The sound of paper scraping against the table was sharp and clear.

“Go on. Press your fingerprint and this will all be over.”