"I was framed!" I screamed, trying to escape from the guards painful grip.
"Then why was your name on the wall beside the body?" He asked and unlocked a cell.
I never got a chance to tell him that the doctor (in the same building as us) who committed the crime spray painted my name on a wall to frame me because before I could say anything, he shoved me inside, locked it and walked away.
I looked around the cell and even though I hated the fact that I was in Alcatraz, I smiled. There was a stapler, a painting with a nail stuck in it, a can of red paint, and what looked like a doll. I knew how I could prove myself innocent.
Aunna what a great mystery story, and I'm still trying to figure out the ending. What a clever and creative way to write about the picture; keep up the good work!
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