Short Story's

Untitled Part 9

The cold metal circlets were smooth against my wrists. The air was icy against my cheek.

My eyes were closed.

No, not because I was scared—I just liked looking at darkness more than the pitiful cell with barely enough furniture other than a chair and a small bed in the corner that was extremely uncomfortable to sleep on.

A male voice interrupted my thoughts, "Hello, I'm Alec, the person who is going to question you today."

I paused for a moment, confused. I couldn't tell if I imagined the voice or if it were real. Judging by the fact that the voice seemed to come from in front of me, I decided it was real for once.

I opened my eyes slowly and raised my head slightly. I guessed that he was another one of those people who'll attempt to help me and eventually give up when all their efforts end up fruitless. This was what? The 6th? Every once in a while they would send a therapist or a detective to question me or try to help me. How many people would it take for them to give up?

My eyes followed his hand as he fiddled with the lock on the bars before opening it and stepping in. He turned around to latch the door shut with one calloused hand. His gaze was guarded and his posture stiff, as if still wary of me. I felt a hint of satisfaction at that and a manic grin fell onto my face as I continued watching him.

He pulled a chair in front of me and sat down carefully before saying, "I suppose you're aware of your charges."

"Oh? What exactly did I do?" I asked, widening my eyes innocently.

He shifted uncomfortably, "You know what you did."

I smirked at his reaction, my sharp eyes not missing the slight tremble in his tanned arms, "Hm, well I think I forgot?"

He sighed heavily before bringing out a booklet which I was sure contained a full background information check on me, "You are charged with assault, murder, attempted murder, robbery, and multiple other crimes."

My eyes lit up like a kid at a birthday party, "You mean those accidents?"

He stared at me silently as if in disbelief but I continued rambling:

"My hand slipped," I shrugged casually as if I wasn't talking about taking people's lives, "You know, it was for a good reason right? I would be totally down for accidentally doing those things again."

"So you're saying that your hand accidentally slipped and killed 14 people including your ex and burned down a house," He said dryly.

"You're absolutely right," I giggled. My laugh sounded painfully insane even to me. That thought made me laugh even harder for some reason. Before long I was doubled over laughing.

"You done yet?" He glanced over at me with a look I was incredibly familiar with: Disgust. I couldn't blame him though, he just saw me laugh about killing people.

I ignored his question, "What? Don't look at me like that. I'm not crazy."

I leaned forward, hushing my tone to a soft whisper as if I were sharing a secret with him. It had started with a pretty little secret disguised as a truth. It was only fitting for it to end with one:

"We're all the same you know?"