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Wednesday • January 18, 2023 Location • Unknown
"But I do feel strange - almost unearthly. I'll never get used to being alive. It's a mystery. Always startled to find I've survived."
- John Steinbeck
•••
I seriously didn't know he was in the building...
How could've I known that pig was in there when the entirety of the seventy-three story building was shrouded in complete darkness? Head-to-fucking-toe darkness. None of the rooms were filled with that certain luminescence to signify he was there either, and I sure as hell didn't want to go into the skyscraper alone and totally unarmed.
Well - that's what I've been telling the male interrogator I was assigned ever since I was thrown into this cold and dingy interrogation room. That was a total lie, and the interrogator seemingly hasn't caught on yet to the fact that I didn't just burn down the large skyscraper, but also killed the greedy pompous fuck that was inside of it too.
A heavy sigh left my mouth as I crossed my thighs to reposition myself in this uncomfortable metal chair to try and get more comfortable, to no avail. The metal handcuffs around my wrists and ankles jangled and clanged against the steel table every time I moved too much, and I was starting to get agitated at the sound.
Silas Espinosa, the interrogator sitting across from me, glanced up from the clipboard he had resting against the edge of the table. His gaze was blank, and slowly - almost cynically, he leaned forward. A piece of his slicked back hair dropped and fanned in front of his right eye, almost daunting me with the seemingly perfectness of his appearance.
Here I was, looking like I just ran through seven fires. My hair was a mess, I probably smelled like smoke and gasoline, the eye bags I had must've been prevalent, and I was in this flimsy orange jumpsuit like the rest of the prisoners here.
"Do you need me to loosen the cuffs, Inmate?" He queried, the arch of his eyebrows slowly raising. His lips quirked down quickly - in a mocking pout, and when his lips went back into the neutral line, all I wanted to do was get myself out of these cuffs and rip his disgusting face off.
God, my fucking hands ached the longer I thought about doing exactly that. We haven't spilt blood in a while, and the lust for blood was getting stronger and stronger every passing day.
My lips lifted into a snarl and I felt my glare darken at the taunting tone lilted into his raspy voice, the tightness of my scar stretching at the action. I didn't have my contact in because I didn't feel the need for it when I snuck out of the house, but now that I glare at him with my mismatched eyes, maybe I should have.
