Tyler

My little sister woke me up by jumping on my bed. "Da peoples is here for you," she said. "What are you talking about?" I asked while rolling onto my stomach. "Da ones in da hats," she explained. I was lost. I assumed she was just making up a story. "What time is -," I got cut off by my grandmother's voice. "Get down here, Tyler!" It sounded like I was in trouble. I walked downstairs and saw cops outside my doorway. "What's going on?" I was hungover and the confusion was worsening it. A few minutes later I was brought down to the station for questioning. Supposedly they found my fingerprints on Ivy's body. First Mason, now Ivy. This was getting scary. I am not the killer. I am a football player. I'm supposed to be moving on to bigger things, not going to jail. "I didn't do it," I said. "I swear. It wasn't me," I pleaded. I told them where I was. I told them it was impossible to be me. But this was it. I was going to jail.