Her face was a sad one. One where all traces of happiness are washed away, like the way waves sweep markings in the sand clean off the surface of the beach. Her pale face was creased with worry, with perpetual distraught. She convulsed from time to time.

“Stop!”

That was what was hollered from her mouth from time to time, as she thrashed around fitfully, violently, sometimes even animalistically, to get an imaginary piece of something off of her.

Then finally, her eyelids snapped open.

“Who are you?”

He glanced at his passport:

“August Dupin.”

She looked on.

“I don’t solve murders in a rue morgue, nor does my name start with C.”

She sat up, making a clinking noise.

Her hand was chained to the bed frame via a piece of handcuff.

“And why am I handcuffed on a bed, with a stranger sitting beside me?”

“Well, a lot of things happened, and you’re here you are, handcuffed to a bed with a stranger sitting beside you.”

She opened her mouth to scream, glanced at him, closed her mouth, then asked:

“I’m going to scream help because a man has handcuffed me to a bed, and who knows what he’s gonna do to me next. If someone does come, you’ll be the one handcuffed and sent to relevant authorities for attempted rape.”

“Well you see, the relevant authorities, well that’s me.”

“So a police officer has chained me to a bed to do kinky things to me? Just how far has our society fallen?”

“First of all, I’m not going to do kinky things to you, and second of all, I’m an inspector,” A quick glance at his card, “I think.”

“And why would an inspector like you come to Kelt Village? There’s nothing for you here except the government buildings, unless- oh, I see.”

“See what?”

“You’re here for it?”

“It?”

“Y’know, the Lusus Naturae?”

“What’s that?”

“The test subject they had over at the lab?”

“Oh really? And what about it?”

“Well, it escaped. It’s weird though, that they didn’t tell you even though you are an inspector.”

A pause. Her head tilted, still in thought.

“What are you here for, then?”

“You.”

“Me?”

Her eyes pierced into his.

“So you are going to do kinky things to me then?”

“No.”

“Then what is it you were sent here for?”

“Like I told you, your case.”

“My case?”

“Yeah.”

“Case? Like the murder mystery sort?”

“Yes.”

A smirk crept up her mouth.

He sighed.

“You’re not Marie Roget, stop that.”

“What is this case about then? And what part do I have to play in it?”

“Well you see, in your village of Kelt, there are but five 7th graders, isn’t there?”

“Yes?”

“And you’re one of them?”

A nod.

“Look, I don’t really know how to mince this, but this group of 7th graders they-”

“They what?”

“Well they disappeared into the forest, and you’re the only one we’ve found.”

He coughed:

“Alive.”

“I’m sorry, what?”

“I’m saying, your 4 other classmates are dead.”

Her lips were first perked upwards with a smirk. And as something dawned on her, her lips started changing, lowering down, contorting till all that one could infer from her face was that of fear and horror.

“What?”

“But I thought that was a dream!”

“Thought what was a dream?”

And with that, she fainted back onto the bed. He sighed, took out a notebook took out a pen, and noted:

The suspect Lindsey Totten seems to have some sort of Amnesia.

He was about to close the book when he thought of something, took out his pen he had already kept in his back pocket, and jotted down:

Probably due to shock. Afterall, she witnessed the death of 4 other children.