22 , the incident

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the incident
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my nose sniffled from the watery eyes that went through the memories of my childhood with the man who took me off the streets and away from the life i didn't ask to live. by the time they were dry, we were already at the place they would hold the questioning for the incident and identity investigation.

the worn stairs creaked as we made our way down to a room that felt cold and despondent. another man with the same emblem of a rose on his leather jacket closed the door with a heavy hand that made me jump at the noise before locking it and making his way down to the table i sat opposite of the two men.

the walls felt as though they were closing in on us due to the silence that was so deafening and the white paint that was chipped at every edge that met the other. as soon as the shuffling of shoes stopped and the silence took over, my stomach turned over in knots from the way they stared at me.

"okay," the man that followed us down the steps started in a gruff timber, "now that we're all settled, we'll just be asking you a few questions to help us understand the situation back in the underground." i nodded in understanding, sitting meek and staring wide-eyed at the man before me.

the other that sat to the left of him took a swig out of a metal canister, setting it back in what i guessed was his jacket pocket. his eyes drooped lower than when we met for the first time today, staring off into oblivion with the all-too-familiar hundred-yard stare.

"in detail, tell us what happened that night."

𝑺𝑻𝑹𝑰𝑷𝑻𝑬𝑨𝑺𝑬 ☙ 𝐋𝐄𝐕𝐈 𝐀𝐂𝐊𝐄𝐑𝐌𝐀𝐍Where stories live. Discover now