I was wrongfully arrested for murder on my 18th birthday. I refuse to keep what happened in the interrogation room a secret any longer.

I?m the first victim of Operation Phantom to publicly share my story. I refuse to honor a non-disclosure agreement covering up such an insidious enterprise. The FBI should be ashamed of succumbing to base behavior far beneath their code of ethics. My life is in tatters because of what they did to me in that interrogation room. Not just because of what they did to my body, but because of what I saw.
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When I noticed the sleek black SUV parked in front of my house, I turned off the TV and walked over to the window. However, before I had long to dwell on the sudden appearance of this mysterious vehicle, three loud knocks rattled my door in its frame.
I opened the door, then screamed when three men in black suits tackled me to the ground. My head struck the doorknob as I fell, knocking me unconscious.
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When I awoke, I was in the interrogation room. A single yellow lightbulb dangled from the ceiling on a rusty chain, which cast a sordid glow over the musty room. To my right, a two-way window languished menacingly in the shadows.
I stirred my hands, and nearly had a panic attack when I found them handcuffed to the table in front of me.
?Stop struggling,? said a voice to my left
I bolted my head from the table. A man wearing a black suit was regarding me from across the room.
?Who are you?? I said. I?m surprised my voice came out as strong as it did given the intense fear dripping through my veins.
?Who I am isn?t important. Who you are though is an entirely different matter.? He lowered himself into the chair at the foot of the table. ?I know you?re the Cobalt Killer.?
I stared at him incredulously. ?What are you talking about? I?ve never killed anybody. You can?t just break into my home and??
He silenced me with his eyes. ?We?ve been hunting you for weeks. And to think that you were right under our noses this whole time??
The saliva drained from my mouth. However, even if I could speak, I didn?t know what to say. I had been resting in my living room playing Xbox only an hour ago. That my life could take such an alarming turn sent my heart palpitating inside my chest.
?Not going to talk, are you?? said the FBI agent. He curled his hands into fists. ?We?ll have to do things the hard way then. Or should we call it the fun way?? He reached under the table and pulled out a silver briefcase. I watched with dread as he opened it and produced a syringe filled with black liquid. ?This serum is the result of 100 million dollars and five years of R and D. The FBI designed it specifically for criminals and terrorists like you unwilling to cooperate with our investigations.?
I stared at the six-inch needle, resisting the urge to vomit. The thought of it penetrating my skin constricted my lungs.
?I?m not the Cobalt Killer,? I said. ?What makes you think I am??
The FBI agent smiled. ?We found your fingerprints at the crime scenes of five slayings around the state. You?re getting sloppy?even if the blue paint you cover your victims with isn?t.? He tapped his fingers on the table. ?I have to give it to you. The paint?s a nice touch. I haven?t seen a serial killer have such an original trademark in decades.?
The blood drained from my face. ?That?s impossible. I haven?t left my house in days??
?Playing Xbox, right? I?m disappointed. I thought an infamous murderer like yourself would have a better alibi.? He rose from his chair and walked over to me. ?Don?t struggle. The effects of the serum are worse if you do. Or is it the opposite, and the serum?s potency diminishes the more you move? Guess you?ll find out??
He jammed the syringe into my arm before I had a chance to respond. I gasped as the black liquid flooded my veins. Dark spots barraged my pupils, as if I had just spent a decade staring at the sun. I vomited.
?You are now officially a subject of Operation Phantom,? said the agent in my ear. ?Your mind is being awakened to forces from beyond the grave. If you won?t answer to me, then maybe you?ll answer to them.?
The room filled with shadows, despite the harsh yellow glow of the lightbulb. Languishing deep within these shadows were entities so grotesque tears filled me eyes.
?I can see them too,? said the agent. ?The same serum runs through my veins. However, my dose is so small that they can?t see me. You on the other hand?? He placed his arm around my shoulder. ?Brace yourself?for your life will never be the same.?
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For the next five hours, these ominous specters barraged me with razor-like fingernails, leaving my back in tatters. Just as I was about to fall unconscious, another agent came barreling into the room.
?Stop!? he said, voice rushed. ?He?s not the Cobalt Killer. There was a mistake at the lab. He?s innocent.?
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