"What are you running from?" they asked.
They strapped me down on the chair again and showed me more movies. This time, they were spliced in with news footage. Footage from my wife's murder. Footage accusing me of killing her.
They showed me doctored photographs of her and the "teacher" she was supposedly having an affair with. Of course they were faked. Anyone with Photoshop can fake a photograph these days.
They showed me interviews with "witnesses." I heard people call me "crazed" and "wild" and "wife beater." They showed me faked footage of me wielding an axe. I wanted to scream at them, but I stayed silent. I didn't want them to have the satisfaction. Eventually, I just closed my eyes.
And then they stopped. They turned off the lights and they asked me "What are you running from?"
"The Slender Man," I said. "I'm running from the Slender Man, you morons."
"What are you running from?"
They weren't going to listen to me. They were trying to trick me. It wasn't any use.
"What are you running from?"
I yelled at them to shut up. I yelled at them to let me go. I just yelled.
"What are you running from?"
The straps on the chair got tighter and the projector starting showing images of Olga. Olga from before she died. Olga's lifeless body. Olga's autopsy. Olga smiling.
"What are you running from?"
They started flashing Olga's picture, back and forth, alive and dead. Olga alive, Olga dead. Olga alive, Olga dead.
"What are you running from?"
I pulled away from the straps as they dug into my arms. I tried to break the goddamn chair. I screamed as loud as I could. Still, the image of her cold and pale face stayed on the wall, as if she was the one asking the question.
What are you running from?
What are you running from?
What are you running from?
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