My eyes scanned around the prison. It was dark, humid, and so little light could pass through. I have no other time available to meet him but only after my classes.

"How did your eyes adjust to this? I can't see your handsome face well..."

Of course, he won't answer me. As usual, I try to engage him in a conversation. I held my phone cause someone texted me, but I accidentally opened my flashlight. "Oops—sorry—"

He quickly grabbed my arm and pulled me close. I almost hit the bars. In a menacing tone, he slowly warned me. "Don't. Turn. That. On."

For a second, I felt his murderous intent. "Okay, Mr. Kiefer. I'll turn it off, and would you please...let go of me?"

His grip became firmer and tighter before finally releasing his hold of my hand. Ah....it hurts like hell. I turned off the flashlight on my phone. Stupid Helen! You know this guy is a murderer and rebel.

"I'm sorry, Kiefer. That won't happen again."

I stood for a moment waiting for him to respond, but he didn't say anything. After staying for an hour, I said my goodbye. "Alright, see you tomorrow, I guess. Again, I'm sorry, Kiefer...."

Clack. Clack, clack.

The next day, she came back.

The next day, I came back.

I was working on a series of animation stills on my walls, but I always did it in dimly lit areas of my cell. In the morning, before any guards see them, I erase them. I made sure I only made easy to erase media whenever I drew on the walls. My only mistake was waking up later than I used to.

I came earlier than I used to. I hope he has forgiven me last night. I even bought him his favorite orange chicken meal. Those are the thoughts that ran through my mind as I walked towards his prison cell. In my surprise, my eyes widened as I saw the series of drawings on his walls. Despite it being lowly lit by the sun, I could understand the shapes and forms of each drawing. Looking from afar, the whole picture of the animation stills is....

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"Freedom..." I muttered to myself. There he lied--tired and sleeping soundly as his hand held a brush with an unknown painting medium on the concrete floor.

Slowly, my eyes blink open.

"How long have you been doing this?" she asked.

I look at her in horror while she seems impressed at my works that could endanger my life any moment. I rushed to her and held her by the ankle. Thankfully, when she fell, she landed on her butt.

"Please, I'm begging you.......don't tell anyone about this," I begged with my voice as if whispering.

I nodded. I sat close to him. "You....tell me what really happened. I've seen your animation film. It was impressive."

I saw him frown at my compliment.

"I won't know how to tell them you're innocent if you could never tell me the truth. And I want your truth."

Silence. He turned away from me. With a worn out fabric, the drawings on the walls were erased in huge swoops of his hand. "Come back later at night."

"Then what?"

"The truth. I'll show you the truth."

At around eight o'clock in the evening, I went back to his prison cell. I told the investigator that I was still in the process of talking to Kiefer, and he just nonchalantly allowed me. Looking around, I made sure that no one is following me and silently went towards his prison cell.

It's too dark. Wonder why of all times—

Rumble!

I looked in the direction of the loud sound--flashes of lightning accompanied by thunder. Anxious, I continued to walk until I felt I was near the bars of Kiefer's prison.

"You came back."

"Of course," I responded, trying to hide my anxiety.

Boom!

Another thunder. My eyes went large when flashes of lightning showed images I shouldn't have seen. I gasped and covered my mouth.

After that encounter, I ran to my office and reviewed Kiefer's folder. I looked through the images and reread the statements of witnesses.

"It's so clean. How did they do it?" There was no evidence that was left as an opening to pinpoint the real murderer.

My hands were shaking as I recalled the animation stills of how the senator was killed. I can feel fear creeping into my spine. The chills—and the skin bumps. I feel dizzy.

Riiiiing, riiiing!

I flinched when my cellphone rang. "Hello?"

A muffled voice answered. "Hello? Are you Attorney Neumann?"

"Yes, I am. Who is this?"

"This is from the Strelitz residence. I am Larry Strelitz, the uncle of Kiefer. Can I meet you tomorrow?"

I held onto my phone, still bothered by the drawings of Kiefer. "Sure, Mr. Strelitz. What time will we meet?"