“What kind of attitude is that? Do you even know where you are?!” Officer Wright let out a cold laugh. “Let me make this clear. Once you’re in here, don’t put on airs. And just because you’re a woman doesn’t mean you’re the victim! You won’t talk? Fine. We’ve got plenty of ways to make you talk!”

The chair screeched harshly as it was shoved back. He rose to his feet and lowered his voice. “Lock her up first. Once we get the warrant, search her place thoroughly. I want to see how long she can keep this up.”

The door opened again. Two officers walked in and grabbed my arms, one on each side.

I did not resist.

The moment Curtis called the police, I already realized that this was not a misunderstanding. It was a setup. Since they dared to go this far, they must have already prepared the evidence.

Next, they would search my apartment—things that were never there to begin with. I would be permanently branded as a voyeur and a harasser. There would be no way to clear my name unless I tore this trap apart first.

…

The cold iron door slammed shut behind me with a heavy echo. I was locked in a temporary holding cell. The room was small. There was only a hard cot and a toilet. The air smelled of disinfectant mixed with stale dampness.

I traced the wall slowly, found the bed, and sat down, listening quietly to the sounds outside.

Footsteps echoed up and down the hallway, mixed with deliberately hushed whispers.

“That’s the sicko who was spying on people?”

“She looks normal. Didn’t expect something this disgusting.”

“I heard she’s blind. Probably faking it.”

“Who knows? Either way, she’s done for.”

Their voices were like fine needles, piercing into my ears one by one.

I had long been used to darkness. However, for the first time, it felt cold enough to cut.

About two hours later, the metal door opened again. It was Officer Wright. He was holding a transparent evidence bag. His steps were noticeably lighter. He waved it in front of me.

“Yvie, take a look at this.”

Then, as though remembering I could not see, he scoffed and answered his own question.

“We found this under your windowsill… A pair of military-grade binoculars!”

There was barely concealed triumph in his voice. “And this!”

Another evidence bag hit the table with a soft plastic rustle.

“A digital camera. It’s full of photos of Curtis, taken from every angle. Filthy stuff! So, is there anything you’d like to say now?”

I did not respond immediately. Deep down, a storm was already raging.

That was fast. The evidence was already perfectly in place in such a short time.

Officer Wright noticed my silence and assumed I had nothing left to say. He pulled over a chair and sat across from me, his tone suddenly shifting into something almost persuasive.

“Yvie, you’re still young. You’re not without options. Why go down this path? Now that the evidence is all here, denying it won’t help. If you confess early, I might be able to put in a good word for you and get you a lighter sentence.”

A statement was pushed in front of me. The sound of paper scraping against the table was sharp and clear.

“Go on. Press your fingerprint and this will all be over.”

I could tell from Officer Wright's tone that he was not taking this seriously. He did not care about the truth. He only cared about closing the case.

I slowly lifted my head and faced him. “Officer Wright, if I press my fingerprint, does that mean I’m admitting to all the charges?”

“Of course.”

“Including voyeurism, harassment, and distributing obscene images?”

“That’s right. Multiple charges combined, enough to put you away for a few years.”

I paused for a moment. My voice dropped slightly. “My name will be forever tied to voyeur and sexual harasser, won’t it?”

His impatience was obvious now. “What’s with all the questions? You did this to yourself!”

I laughed. The sound felt jarringly out of place in the cramped holding room. “Is that so?”

In the next second, I reached out, found the statement, and tore it apart. The sound of paper splitting was sharp in the air. Nothing was left but shreds.

Officer Wright froze for a moment. He clearly did not expect that.

“Y-You… Have you lost your mind?!” He shot to his feet. His voice rose sharply. “That’s resisting law enforcement! Your sentences just got worse!”

I lifted my head. My voice was steady and clear. “I won’t confess to something I didn’t do. You can fabricate the evidence.”

I paused for a moment. “But if you want me to admit guilt, I’d rather die.”

The air seemed to solidify. Officer Wright’s breathing turned rapid. “Fine… Fine… Fine!”

He spat the word three times. His voice shook with anger.

“You’ve got guts. I’ll see how long you can keep this up!” He stormed off and shouted into the hallway, “Someone get in here! Cuff her! File for formal detention! I want to see how long she lasts!

Within seconds, two officers rushed in. They yanked me off the bed roughly.

Cold handcuffs snapped around my wrists again. They were tighter than before, with the metal biting into my skin.

I was shoved forward, stumbling as I was led out.

Then, my phone rang. The flat, mechanical tone of a blind-access phone cut sharply through the hallway.

One of the officers moved to decline it.

I said, “Let me take it.”

My voice was calm, too calm for someone being dragged away.

The officer hesitated for a moment.

“Take what? Move!” Officer Wright barked impatiently.

I said evenly, “If this call delays the result you want, you’ll deal with the consequences.”

That made him pause. In the end, the phone was placed in my hand. I felt for the button and answered.

A cold, distant female voice came through. “Yvie, you have three days to move out.”

She paused for a moment, her tone laced with undisguised disgust. “I don’t want a disgusting peeping Tom living in my property.”

The voice on the other end belonged to my landlord, Ms. Holt. Her voice felt ice cold even though it came from the other end of the line.

“Ms. Holt, that’s not how it is.” I tried to explain.

“I don’t want to hear it!" she cut me off sharply.

“All I know is that you’ve been here one week, and you’ve already caused a scandal! The building’s group chat is blowing up! Everyone’s blaming me! How am I supposed to rent this place out in the future? What about my reputation?”

Her voice grew sharper and sharper, filled with anger at being dragged into the mess.

“Yvie, I don’t care whether you really have issues or you’ve been wronged. I’m giving you three days. If you haven’t moved out after three days, I’ll have someone throw all your things onto the street.”

Then, she hung up with a sharp click.

The holding cell fell back into silence.

Officer Wright’s face carried an undisguised trace of satisfaction. “Did you hear that? Feels bad being abandoned by everyone, doesn’t it?”

He nodded toward his subordinates. “Take her away.”

I was escorted down the long corridor. This time, no one whispered anymore. Their stares were colder than insults. It was like they were looking at something already condemned.

I was pushed into a police car, heading to the city detention center. There, I would wait for what they called 'trial'.

Outside the window, the noise of the city slowly faded. I leaned against the cold metal interior, feeling the vibration of the vehicle. Despair surged in like a tide from all directions, slowly, steadily, swallowing everything.

Then, a calm, professional female voice sounded in my ear. “Ms. Lane, this is Grace Quinn from the Municipal Legal Aid Center. I’ve been assigned as your attorney. Your case is now under my responsibility.”

I was slightly startled.

Legal aid? I never applied for it.

“It was requested by the police, in accordance with the law.”

It was as though she anticipated my question. Her tone remained steady.

“Under the regulations, your case requires legal representation.”

I understood.

Procedure. It was just a procedure.

The lawyer named Grace was probably just like the others. She was already convinced I was guilty. Her job was simply to make everything look more 'lawful'.

“I have nothing to say.” My voice came out dry. “I didn’t do anything wrong.”

A brief silence followed.

I expected her to begin pressuring me into a confession like Officer Wright. Yet she did not. Her tone remained precise, controlled.

“I’ve reviewed the information provided by the police. A pair of binoculars and a camera containing explicit photos were recovered at the scene. The victim’s statement is detailed, and multiple neighbors have given unfavorable testimony.

“Based on the current evidence, the case is heavily against you.”

Every word was calm and almost clinical yet completely devoid of emotion.

“If you insist on pleading not guilty, once the case proceeds to trial and the evidence is admitted, your sentence will only be heavier.”

I closed my eyes. The hollow sockets felt dry and empty. “So you’re here to tell me to confess too?”

“No.” Her answer was immediate. “I am your defense attorney. My duty is to protect your legal rights, not to decide guilt for either side.”

She paused for a moment. Then, her tone deepened and sounded more focused. “Now, I need you to answer a few questions truthfully. First, are the binoculars and camera yours?”

“No.”

“Second, do you know Curtis Lowe? Have you had any contact with him?”

“No. I don’t know him.”

“Third…” She paused for a fraction of a second. “Other than vision, do your hearing or tactile senses show any abnormal enhancement?”

That question made something in me tighten. She was the first person to notice that.

“Yes.”

There was a brief silence on the other end.

Then, “Good.” It was just one word from her. However, her tone had shifted ever so slightly. It was as though something crucial had just been confirmed.