Mateo looked at me with some concern and said, "I'm sorry, officer. This is my girlfriend's sister. She has poor mental health and is on medication. Recently, my girlfriend had an accident, and she might have been under stress and had hallucinations. Sorry to trouble you."
The police followed Mateo's gaze and looked at the medicine on the table.
Indeed, they were medications for treating mental illnesses.
The police left quickly.
There were only me and Mateo left in the room.
"Mateo, do you believe that Violet committed suicide?"
I looked into Mateo's eyes, trying to find any trace of guilt in them.
The next second, Mateo avoided my gaze.
"Rosalie, I know you don't want to accept it, but Violet is already dead, and I am very sad."
My heart sank.
Sure enough, Mateo was guilty.
Whenever he felt guilty, he would instinctively shift his gaze.
Although there were medications for treating mental illness on the table and the police didn't find anything suspicious, I just didn't believe that all of this was just my imagination.
I would never forget what happened on the evening of June 10th.
Even now, I could still remember how much it hurt when the axe struck me.
How could this kind of feeling be fake?