The Crimson Trail

I sat in the interrogation room, trembling. "It was 3 AM. I was alone in my apartment when I found a thick, wet trail of crimson dragged across the living room floor, leading straight to my closet. I opened the door, and..." The detective interrupted, slamming a folder on the table. "We know about the dead body in your closet. What we want you to explain is why the forensic lab confirmed the drag marks on your floor were made of bright red acrylic paint?"