A I R A M

December, 22nd.

Chapter One

               MY FACE STARES BACK AT ME but I can feel their eyes; I sit in a grey, grey, grey room with my clothes soaked in a red, thick, vile substance called: blood. My wrist hurt from the metal, metal, metal cuffs. I look up, a lightbulb illuminates the room, white spots, spots, spots begin to cloud my vision causing me to look to my right, a bulky metal door keeps me in and them out (for the time being); I look to my left and in the corner sits a metal chair above it a camera that's tilted in my direction. Six months ago I would've waved, smiled and leaned back, not caring about my actions-

           -but I'm not the same person I used to be, all because of two words that changed everything. One word holds all my pain, suffering, and the other holds my happiness. Now my actions cost more than a few grand, my actions cost more pain, my actions broke a happy family. I sigh and inhale a shaky breath as I try to calm, calm, calm myself down; I look up, back at my purple-blue reflection, my right cheek has a print of red, my eyes bloodshot, my lip busted, and my soul missing.

        "Mr. Scott." I don't look away from my reflection, I know his voice like the back of my hand. Officer Mark, he's toned, tall, bald, he carries himself with confidence, he wears his suit with pride. "Mr. Scott?" I've been in and out of this precinct over a dozen times, yet he still calls me Mr. Scott.

        He drops the file between us, my name printed on the front. Jake E. Scott. The file is a good ten centimetres thick, every rebellious act I've ever pulled in the last four years is documented in that file. "Mr. Scott, please look at me." Officer Mark has these blue eyes that shine against his dark skin, it's the first thing you notice about him, the blue is captivating and chilling; he has a stern look on his face but his voice is calm, calm, calm. "Tell me what happened." Four words. Five syllables. Four words and five syllables that could cost me my life. Four words and five syllables that make me choke. Four words and five syllables that grab me by the throat.

          He waits. Stands tall and waits. The seconds turn into minutes. I don't say a word. My hands shake, shake, shake. Warm brown eyes. Pearl white smile. Million-dollar problems. Soft silk skin. Midnight waves. Velvet words. My hands shake, shake, shake. Lifeless brown eyes. Red smile. One problem. Cold damp skin. Midnight waves. Missing words. My hands shake, shake, shake.

            "Mr. Scott I know you're a good kid. We all do. So, talk to me or would you rather talk to your father?" I finally look up, Officer Mark watches me, waiting.

                   "Call him in." My voice is rough, rough, rough.

"Alright." 

* * *

                  The silence suffocates me, it breaks every bone in my body over and over again; I keep my eyes trained on the cold, cold, cold table in front of me. My father sits in his chair across from me and drums, drums, drums his fingers on his knee.

               "Blood." One word. He only says one word before his screams break the suffocating silence; the screams are inaudible, he sounds like he's being strangled, strangled, strangled over and over again. "Jake, what did you do!" He keeps asking the same question, he keeps looking at me, his tone is scared, scared, scared. My father is scared of me, me, me.

                "Jake, what did you do!" One. Two. Three seconds. Again. "Jake, what did you do!" One. Two. Three seconds. Again. And again. Six times. He asks the same question six times before the realization hit's him, his hands shake, shake, shake.

        Inhale. Inhale. Inhale. Hold. Close my eyes. Warm brown eyes. Exhale. Exhale. Exhale. Open my eyes. Lifeless brown eyes. Inhale. Inhale. Inhale. Hold. Close my eyes. Pearl white smile. Exhale. Exhale. Exhale. Open my eyes. Red smile.