There's a series of murders.
I'm part of this group of friends who are somehow involved. At one point, the leader of the friend group and us are hanging out together. He takes out a revolver, puts it to the temple of one of the friends sitting there and says 1-2-3 and pulls the trigger.
We're all shocked. Especially me. There's a very strong feeling we're all going to be implicated in the murders.
There's some kind of a party. In it, I feel like they're going to pin the blame on me. There's a small package which has a couple of bullet cases. Someone slips them into my jacket. The whole thing feels like they're all planning to put the blame for the murder on me.
Me, dad and mom go to a funeral where there are a lot of cops. Each time a cop looks at me I think about the murder implication. Once we're done paying our respects, dad gives the guy who murdered this dude 5,000 rupees. Guy accepts it.
I'm on my way up a slope somewhere like the Deonar circle trying to throw away this package. It's dark. I spot some CCTV cameras on the road and keep walking, trying to avoid them. At one point I put my hand in my coat and realise I've already recently done this walk and thrown away the package I have.
On my way back some family friend bumps into me and tells me to come with them to this club nearby. We go, and I see Scott and I'm asking him 'who doesn't know' alluding to the song, and he goes Scotty. Some girl laughs.
The cops everywhere are freaking me out and I'm thinking why the fuck are they not looking into this. Because if they do, they'll implicate all of us in this murder.
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