Ambrosia

v.

"Who are you?"

The words slipped out of my mouth before I could stop myself, eyes widening in embarrassment.

Amusement danced in the brown eyes of the man standing over me while he tilts his head, examining me.

I get that I'm in a locked room with no means of escape, but I'm not an animal.

"I'm Agent Elis Yelizarov, it's a pleasure to meet you. May I ask you a few questions?" He adjusted the thin framed glasses on his face, no hint of malice on his features – which is new because everybody who came in here has looked at me like you would at scum on the bottom of your shoe.

Clearing my throat, I nod. They've already pestered me enough, what's one more person?

"You go to BostonU, correct?" Agent Yelizarov asks, his entire demeanor shifting to a more executive approach. I don't see the point in asking this question, but I reply nonetheless, "Yes. I'm majoring in Comparative Literature."

"I assume you're in your last year of college," That was more of a statement than a question.

"I assume you already know everything there is to know, Agent. What I don't get is why I'm still here being questioned if all of you have already deemed me a killer."

A smirk tugged at the corner of his lips, almost unnoticeable. Leaning back in his seat, he toys with his cufflinks, contemplating his next move. Taking this time to study this peculiar man, I notice a signet ring on his pinky finger but no sign of a wedding band.

So, not married but comes from wealth.

His attire was neat, not a single crease in place and by the looks of the make, it was most probably expensive – bespoke. Now, you can't afford this kind of wardrobe with the paycheck of a government agent, so who really is this guy?

"Milena Aleena Khirad, 23 years old. Your parents aren't around anymore so you've had to fend for yourself for quite some time now, you worked odd jobs like a part-time librarian and diner waitress to make ends meet. Your house has very few personal items and is too neat for a college student. There are only a few pictures framed and it is of you and another young woman, Valerie Banks, who I'm assuming is your best and only friend – well besides the man who's murder you're accused of."

"You're timid," He continues, "you don't have a lot of friends, and nothing about your past activities show any signs of violent tendencies – so I'm just wondering how you ended up here. All I'm trying to do is get to know you, Ms. Khirad."

By the time he finished reading out my life like some journal entry, my face was unquestionably flushed a deep scarlet.

"Do you always meet women like this?" I ask, trying to mask my foul disposition.

The young agent gives me a full-fledged smile despite the seriousness of the situation, completely catching me off guard by the sheer brightness of it. "Like on a date or when they're charged with murder?"

Groaning inwardly, I squeezing my eyes shut, clenching my jaw tightly. When I open them again – ignoring his attempt to humour me – I look straight into Agent Yelizarov's light brown eyes. "So, you've done a Ph.D. on me, big deal. What exactly are you trying to say, Agent?" I lean closer to him, afraid that if I cut off eye contact, he'll laugh in my face.

The curiosity remains glinting on his sharp features, "Actually, I have a Ph.D. in Behavioural Psychology, not you particularly. I was just able to deduct all that based on what I've read in your file and by observing you since your arrest."