Satan Reincarnate

Thunderstruck

***

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Time had passed and I hadn't seen bill anywhere- nor did I see Tom, Georg, or Gustav. Was it seriously that easy to get away? It was almost too good to be true. It was unreal, like me sitting in the back of the chiefs car with a warm mug of coffee and a donut- escaping from anything that may pursue me was just a dream.

I took a bite from the circular pastry, savoring each moment of the glaze as it melted on my starving tongue. I leaned my head back into the soft, felt seat and looked out the window at the chaos beginning to come to a halt. The murders were still being investigated- they had to interview me at the station. I watched as the chief investigator departed from conversation, and jogged to his cruiser that I was in the back of. He gently opened his door, and stepped inside.

"Well.." he started, cranking on the engine. "Just you and me kiddo!" He turned to me, his face crinkling as he smiled. He reached back and patted my knee, and then pulled out from his parking spot.

He made me feel safe, not uncomfortable at all. I remembered the moment I even made eye contact with Stacey I wanted to melt my skin off- he was just gross and I immediately knew that.  Chief Michaels' reminded me of Lukas in a way- my complex manager Bill murdered. He wasn't creepy or unsettling like Lukas was, the chief just had the same waft of kindness and compassion I felt with Lukas.

"What music ya' like, dear?" He looked at me through the rear-view mirror, flipping through stations. He was older, maybe early fifties I'd say. He reminded me of my dad, I think that's why I felt so safe with him. His solemn brown eyes crinkled even more as he grinned at me, the mustache on his lip upturned with each gesture of his kind face.

"Uh.." I began. "I don't have a preference." I glanced around, my eyes landing back on his. I was never good at talking to people, regardless of how much I liked them. "Anything with a good guitar." I stammered.

"Good taste, good taste." He muttered, pulling the aux cord from the seat next to him once we hit a red light. "You know AC/DC?" He smiled, looking at me as he hit play.

Just by the first strum of the guitar, i knew it was "Thunderstruck?"

He chuckled, his hands on the steering wheel as he pulled forward onto the freeway, and turned on the lights. "You know your shit, kid."

I smiled, and took another sip of the coffee he gave to me as I took in the aggressive rock music. 

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Pulling into the station after half an hour listening to heavy metal, and rock music with the chief of the LAPD was a weird feeling. I just never expected to do that. Not like it was on my bucket list or anything.

"Alright, honey." He stepped from his seat, and circled around to open mine. "So what's going to happen is," he cleared his throat, putting his hand gently on my upper back as he lead me inside the main station. "We need you to write a statement about what happened to you, and what you witnessed if you saw anything regarding the murder of these two men.." He pulled a paper with a small picture of Lukas, and Stacey. I was glad to see how much blood Stacey lost, his death looked like it hurt.

I remember hearing Stacey die. The way the breath escaped his lungs in a poisonous groan, and how his mouth filled with blood suffocating him to death before blood loss or a bullet to the lungs could kill him. I had to give it to Bill, I'm glad he made Stacey's death agonizing. I nodded, lost in thought.

"... then, we have a professional here to interview you. I.. I hope that's not too much. Just let me know if you're not up for it yet, and we'll postpone it." He smiled down at me, walking me through the front door.