A Calling

Chapter 5 - Discrepancy Detected

That was a mistake. Oh ,God, what have I done?

"No..." I interrupted, it took only a moment for me to realize the grave mistake I had made.

"What was that, boy?" Detective Anderson peered down at me with cold eyes, "No, I didn't see anyone outside..." My tone remained flat, expressionless, I see their game here; they think i'm guilty because I answered too quickly - I often take my time to reply, but sometimes I slip up... The reason for this is because I can hear what people are thinking, not always, it happens sometimes when I think they're done speaking because I hear them finish the sentence from thinking about what they're going to say. It started happening on my 13th birthday, that's something I never told the doctors. I've seen the movies, okay? I'd rather not be sectioned in some sort of Area 51.

I lowered my head once again to stare at the plain, dusty floor. The glass beneath my feet. The blood speckled on each fragment. Detective Sullivan arose from the ground, dusting off his knees from the tainting filth of the beige laminate. Mark Anderson spoke again, this time his tone more aggressive and accusing, "Is there something you want to tell us?" In response, I elevated my head slightly, only looking at him with my eyes. Glaring offensively up through my long, dark eyelashes, I practically spat out my words in disgust, "If I did, I would've already confessed to urge you to get lost." My tone unwelcoming, I believe I had startled the two detectives, and maybe offended them a little, maybe I've gone too far, God, I'm too arrogant for my own good... My eyes flickered back down to the ground, I sat in a beastly posture of which included my hands connecting, each gripping the other tightly to the point where my fingers ached. My anxious hands rested between my widely spread legs, my back arched and slouched forward, resting my tired elbows on my knees.

You can learn a lot about someone from their shoes, like for example, Detective Anderson's shoes are brown leather, they are worn and to be honest quite filthridden. This shows he has a lack pride in his appearance, this is also further enforced by his graying, unkempt hair. His aged and omniscient eyes. And ofcourse his forceful and bitter attitude.

Opposing this would be the freshly polished, black leather suitshoes of Detective Randy Sullivan. They seem fit for a coronation party, excessively and unnecessarily exquisite for a scene of such mess and damage, say goodbye to your fancy shoes, mate!
Ew.. What was that? God, I hate myself...
This shows he looks upon the world with new eyes, he wants to do good, but he'll soon learn the hard way that good rarely ever wins, unlike the fairy-tales. Good have to play by the rules, evil does not and so they have an unfair advantage.

My lord, what a saint! Randy whispered peacefully into the crooked left ear of his partner, unknowing of my superior auditory perception, "Come on, I don't think he can help us..." Neat, so they're gonna leave me alone now? God, bless this man.