A Story A Day. Story 13 of 365: Closed.

The policemen found her naked and covered in blood, curled up against a wall, crying and pounding her head against it. It took them long to get her outside of the murder scene, as she would react wildly to anyone approaching her. In fact, they had to wait for her to fall asleep to take her to the hospital. She was the only survivor of the slaughter there had been inside that house. No one else had seen anything, the neighbors called the police as soon as they had heard her screaming. Everyone else had been death for hours, by then. 

She was rushed to the hospital, still covered in blood. When the doctors first saw her, they were afraid there was little they could do if all that blood was hers. She was, surprisingly, unscratched, as they saw as soon as they cleaned her up. She was in deep shock, however, and she wouldn't speak a word. In the meantime, the police kept looking for clues at the house. The bodies were completely butchered, but there was no murder weapon, no signs of anyone breaking into the house. She was both the only witness and the only suspect. 

The days passed and she wouldn't show any sign of improvement. They couldn't interrogate her, as she would close more and more every time they tried. She was deemed unable to declare, and was sent intern into a psychiatric institution, were she remained for the rest of her life, carrying the burden of being considered guilty of that atrocious murder. 

Her mind was a chaos, remembering that last night of sanity once and again. Seeing how the people she loved died, to the infinity. Yet, in a small corner of her mind, the microscopic part that could still think rationally, there was a voice that repeated "I'm innocent", but that voice was trapped and no one would ever hear it.