White.
Nauseating white.
That's the color of the walls I had to stare at while waiting for detectives to ask me fifty thousand questions that they already knew the answers to.
There were two large mirrors, behind me and in front of me, that were almost half the wall size. Or was it just a tad less than that? I can't tell. I want to get up and count the inches using my thumbs, but that would make things awkward when they come in. Then they would ask even more questions about what I was doing and why.
God, I don't like questions, especially meaningless ones.
Let's see...
How to entertain myself for the time being. I could just play with my imagination and add color to these horrible walls, Or I could replay every bad memory I have from childhood and review why I hate and despise the people that I do and maybe, just maybe, I can figure out why the hell they did what they did to me.
The door opens.
A man, around thirty to forty years old, tall, ginger haired followed by handle barred mustache, beer belly, dark eye bags, and business like tux clothes that's only missing the jacket that usually goes along with it. There's also a tan line on his right ring finger that signals missing jewelry. He's holding a tan folder and a notepad in his left hand. Divorce maybe?
Or is that he likes to take his wedding ring off during work to flirt with coworkers. He doesn't seem like the type to wear just any random ring either, but he does seem like the type to cheat in his relationships.
He pulls out a chair as if he just wants this to be done and over with.
I feel just the same.
"So, miss..." A quick flip up from the folder "Olivia Grey, I'm detective Dawnley and I have a few questions for you."
"I figured" I said back with my straightest face. I guess he didn't like that answer. I could tell by the way his face hardened just a bit.
"No need for sass, now I know that you've been through a lot but if you tell me some details then we can arrest the right people, the bad guys."
Obviously he doesn't know how to read expressions.
"No sass intended, sir" I then gave one of my "less" sincere of smiles.
"Alright, what do you remember from two days ago on April fourteenth?"
Was this really one of his questions? Come to think of it I could easily change the story and evidence of all they've collected. Anyone would believe a girl who's balling and choking on her tears right? Then whatever the girl manages to say is obviously the truth because who would question that? I could easily act such as that and explain that I was forced to lie in front of cops because I was "afraid" of what "they" would do to me as punishment if I uttered something of the truth to them. I don't exactly have anything left to lose now. No family, no friends, no home, nothing but my wanderer of a mind in this universe.
"We were driving up to Saddlebay to go to a movie but we crashed, so I went to the nearest place to use the phone and call for an ambulance." Entirely true but I was actually planning to murder the person I was going with, my stepfather, but that was before the crash and how my goal was completed by someone else. But I think it's wise to only answer the questions he asks instead of giving it all away. That wouldn't do any good on my part.
"Who's we?"
"My stepdad."
"And around what time did you two leave to go to the movies?"
"Around seven thirty."
Dawnley chicken scratched on his yellow notepad with his fancy black ink pen, must've been given to him from work or is it that he snatched it from another coworker.
"So your stepdad was unconscious and so were the people in the other car?"
"Yes."
"And after the call? What happened then?"
"I waited there for the police to come and I was brought here."
"Was your stepdad the type to drink, perhaps?"
"yeah, he drank often
"I see..."
He paused in the silence, looking at the floor behind me with a confused expression. Then his face told me, It must've been my imagination or just a coincidence. Im guessing he's starting to wonder about the details and all the evidence they've collected.
He motioned to get up from the chair.
"Well Olivia thats all the questions I have for now, just needed a review of what happened from you, thats all. Oh and uhh... another detective will be right in so sit tight."
He gave a quick, fake, smile as he straightened up the yellow folder along with the note pad on top. I didn't smile back. He turned the knob, swung the door open, and walked out.
I got up and walked towards the glass mirror infront of me and put my pointer finger on the glass. The space between my finger and its reflection told me it was a two-way mirror. Of course it was, i'm in an interrogation room with a camera hanging by the door, why wouldn't it be two-wayed? I checked the mirror opposite and found that it wasn't two-wayed. So what does this tell me..?
Likely being watched outside the room. What I said and my behavior was all recorded.
Do they suspect and think its weird that I was awfully calm throughout? If they do then they might start getting ideas. Such as being calm enough to do more than just be in an accident and look for help.
I then went back to puking in my head staring at the wall. Imagining the northern lights instead of white.
One question left.
What other reasons could they be keeping me here for?
