#WritcoStoryChallenge
The painting was yellowed with rounded edges. It was a masterpiece and it was lying in my hand. Wait, have I stolen it? I don't remember...
No matter how hard I tried, I couldn't remember ever being a good artist... Did I actually do this?! Now way. What's going on? Why is this here? Why can't I remember anything? Am I going crazy? Having these thoughts in my head, I wandered around the area, looking for any signs that could help me recall my memories. But, I couldn't do it, at least, not before I found out from the police.
Yup, the police came by for a visit. Oh, but it wasn't a very friendly one.
They surrounded me, holding guns and shields. I knew I was in trouble, but I couldn't do anything. They're not going to believe me when I say 'I don't remember why I'm here. I don't know what this is.' They'll think that I'm lying. So, I just obeyed them and followed them to the police station. After a while, we had to go to court. At this point, I still don't know what I, or the bad guy, did wrong! Surely the court will know that I'm innocent.
Well, that's what I thought moments before the judge said I was guilty.... And just as soon as it started, it all ened very quickly. I was sent to jail, and to this day, I still don't know what I did wrong, or if I even did anything wrong. Being in jail doesn't bug me as much as not knowing what happened to make me go to jail, but the hardest part is not knowing if I was a good guy or a bad guy.