Lovely (A Jeff the Killer Fanfiction)

New Home - Chapter 6

I wake up in an unnaturally bright room. Trying to shield my eyes, I find that I'm handcuffed.

"What?" I mumble to myself. My memory of the previous night is foggy, like it's close but also too far for me to grasp. It feels like a dream that's nearly been forgotten.

"Good afternoon," A voice calls from behind me. Spinning around, I meet eyes with a short, stubby man in a police uniform.

"Where am I? Am I at the police station?"

Ignoring my question, he walks around me and sits across from me, pulling his chair up to the table and setting a notepad and a small object down.

"What happened last night?" He asks calmly.

"I... I don't remember."

He looks at me for a second and writes something down, "Miss, do you have any recollection of last night? Any at all?"

I stare at a scratch on the metal table in front of me, trying to think. What did happen last night? And what would be so serious I would be at a police station, handcuffed and being interrogated? A strong feeling of nausea builds up in my stomach, slowly moving it's way up to my chest and throat.

"Where are my parents?" I look into his brown eyes. Brown eyes laced with sorrow and confusion.

"Your parents are dead. We have reason to believe you murdered them."

I stare at him in shock, confused beyond belief.

"Me? Murder them? How could you think that?"

"You were found passed out by their bodies. The knife used only had you and your mother's fingerprints, but the knife was lodged in her chest," He sighs, looking down at his notes, "The scene also indicated that there had been no break-in, as all the doors and windows were shut and locked, and the locks were all in tact, meaning that the killer had to have been already inside the home. Your step-father was killed first, as shown by the degree of rigor mortis, and your mother was in a state of shock when she died soon after, which indicates that she wasn't the killer. Furthermore, there was no sign of a struggle, which tells us that the culprit was most likely someone your parents knew," He looks up at me and takes off his glasses, setting them on the table and rubbing his temples.

"I... I couldn't have. I wouldn't have!" I yell, jumping up from my chair. He follows me up, snapping his hand to his gun. I stare at him for a moment before beginning to sob. He thinks I'm a threat. "You've gotta believe me!" I cry into my hands and wipe my tears with my forearm.

"I'm sorry, but all the evidence is against you," He says, letting his body relax, "You'll have a trial in two months. You'll be in solitary confinement for the time beforehand for your illnesses, as you have a history of suicidal tendencies, MDD, and possible psychosis," He sits down again, looking at me with empathy.

"This is crazy," I whimper.

He looks behind me and motions for another officer to come in. A tall man with blonde hair and a stone cold expression enters the room and leads me out of the small, confined room into a slightly larger space.

"You're going to be transferred now, please don't make this too difficult."

I look up at him and nod. Maybe if I act good they'll know I'm innocent.

He brings me over to another man and woman, both wearing EMT uniforms.

"Hey," The girl says, smiling at me, "We're going to be transferring you to the mental hospital, is that alright?" I nod at her and they take me to the ambulance, strapping me into the gurney, "We have to have you sit in this for a while, ok? Even if you aren't hurt, we're required to have you strapped onto this," She smiles at me and gets out, closing the back doors, and jumps into the passengers seat of the vehicle.

The man starts driving, and I drift into a dreamless sleep, only waking up when I feel the right strap over my arms being removed. I'm brought inside and the EMTs say goodbye to me, and I am brought to another small room with a lady in a white lab coat.

"We need to work on some of your intake paperwork, as well as talk about your stay and your schedule," She says, taking a seat and gesturing at the chair across the small coffee table. I nod and sit.

We talk for what seems like forever, and she finally brings me to what will be my home for the next few months.

The number on the door read 27. She opens it, having to push hard as the heavy door creaks open. The room is extremely plain. A cold, linoleum flooring meets my feet even through my socks as I step in. There's a small bed in one corner of the room beneath a barred window, with a thin blue blanket and a flat pillow laying on it. The walls are painted a tan color, and a security camera blinked a red light from a corner of the room, indicating it was on and watching. There's a small room set aside as a bathroom with a padded door that was only attached by velcro, so it could be easily ripped off and put back onto the wall.

"Welcome home," The nurse sighs, forcing a smile at me and closing the door as she leaves. A faint click follows soon after.