The Pit

Chapter 1 - Trial

"Ms. Evans. Ms. Evans, please wake up."

Whose voice is that? Slowly, I open one eye just a crack and dark brown eyes glare down at me. Who is that? I don't remember meeting her. I drop my eyelid back down, not wanting to talk to her or anybody that happens to walk by my room. I stay quiet, unmoving, hoping that she will just walk away, letting me continue to rest in peace. No such luck.

"Wake up now." The woman ruthlessly continues on as her hand comes to rest upon my shoulder and she starts shaking me. "I saw your eye open, now get up!"

Now, both eyes are open, looking past the woman in the black suit. A white ceiling and gray cell bars? That's right, I remember now. I was arrested in front of my house by this woman, detective Tate Williams.

She is normal height and weight, average figure, sane attitude, and a bit boring. Detective Tate always has this tight, pulled back hair in a high bun without a hair out of place and she is now leaning over me. What I don't get is why she is here?

She left me here two days ago in this cell inside of the court house to await the results of my trial, which happens to be the most boring place in the history of mankind. There is absolutely no police gossip going on to entertain me or people to talk to. The only person that has ever been here has been some guard guy who never looks at me or talks to me.

These people, no doubt, want me to think about what I have done, etc. However, the results of the trial are easy to figure out.

Already, everyone should know the results because the evidence is plain and simple, that makes thinking about the trial pointless if I already know what is going to happen. Also, I can't even think about why I am here without wanting to yell at someone and that guard guy simply not caring if I holler or shout makes it completely pointless.

In any case, I have decided not to think at all during these last two days. So, sleeping seemed like my best option and I was almost able to sleep for two consecutive days.

"Ms. Evans, it is time for the results of your trial. No one could wake you, so I had to come and get you. Now, wake up!" The detective shouts the last two words in my ear.

Slowly, I raise my head and flex my stomach. Then, my shoulders rise, closely followed by my stomach, and I get up into a sitting position. My right hand reaches for the sky as I begin to stretch from lying down for so long; however, my left hand isn't able to meet my right hand above my head. There is a cool metal clamped around my wrist which is also attached to one of the bars in my cell.

I glare at the detective in front of me. I am always in a terrible mood after waking up and she isn't making things any easier.

"Detective," I begin. "Could you please come back later? I seem to be a little tied up at the moment."

Her eyes squint together and her expression becomes annoyed, but she doesn't say anything. She just reaches over me and unlocks the cuff tied to the bar.

"Stand up." Tate demands once the cuff is separated from the bar, I do as I am told, seeing that I irritated her, it's the least I can do.

Standing up, I am stiff and a little uneasy, but I get up all the same and let the detective cuff both of my wrists together in front of me and I let my forearms rest on my hips. I don't see the necessity of these handcuffs, as if I could run away with all of these people that roam the halls here, I might be able to make it out the door of this room before being caught.

Detective Tate pushes me to the open cell door, I go through, and she slams it closed behind us with a bang. She keeps me in front of her as we walk through a door that leads out of this room and into a brightly lit hallway.