Framed by Memory

The first thing I remember is the blood. My fiancée, Jocelyn, stood in the doorway, her face a mask of horror. Our perfect future shattered when I was found standing over her parents' bodies, my father's blood-soaked guitar in my hands.

The police came, and I didn't resist, silenced by a terrible promise. The media branded me the "Guitar Slinger Killer," and the world condemned me. But the deepest cut came when Jocelyn, the woman who saved me, joined the prosecution, vowing to make me pay.