Of course they think it's me, I think to myself as I sit with my hands in my palms. These jail beds are all the same. Sealed in plastic so they can be sprayed down and ready for the next inmate. Why wouldn't they think it was me? If only they knew. They knew the guy was being generous to me. He gave me a deal on the rock, seeing that I just got out of jail and needed something to deal with it all. My mom use to be that person who would give me my rock when I was going through tough times. She knew that it would make me feel better just like pappa and everyone else. It is no good of me explaining the guy was kind to me and I would never hurt him. Worse yet, they cared less about the other guy who snuck up behind him and planted that knife in his back. Of course, I shouldn't have grabbed the knife after the killer left it there and fled the apartment. Of course, I shouldn't had been there to begin with since my probation officer would throw me right back in jail if he knew. It all went down so fast, I wasn't able to think about all that other stuff. What does it matter anyways. These damn beds are all the same.