The Kids in the Dark

Touchy Feely

Darcy Coggins trudged through the dark hallways of the interrogation floor, clutching her clipboard to her chest. Another day at the office, and she was not looking forward to it. She probably was questioning another poor vigilante today. Another vagabond who couldn't make their dream a reality without violence.

She hated the interrogations. The fact she was exploiting someone made her feel dirty. And the fear on their faces, the faces that haunt you well into the night. All for what? Some stupid information? Did it even matter? If they did something, they did it. That's it. Not much else to determine.

Her thoughts were suddenly torn from her as her shoulder brushed against one of her fellow investigators. Huh. She didn't realize Jerome was getting divorced again. After the last three, she would've guessed he gave up with love. Darn. She despised his pouting after a bad break up.

Darcy repositioned her shoulder, tucking it closer to her. It made her uncomfortable to read minds on accident. For that reason, she avoided contact with, well, anything. One little touch, and she had their thoughts laid out before her. Bad on the social scene, but a pretty awesome skill for an interrogator.

Darcy tucked a piece of her blonde hair behind her ear and continued through the doors to the smallest room, as her schedule directed. Her black trench coat flapped against her shins as she walked. Her converse squeaked on the overly-polished ground. Darcy could nearly see her reflection in it. Then again, why would she want to? She didn't consider herself very pretty. Her stick straight hair and brown eyes made her look plain. Her features by themselves were alright. A pointed nose, arched eyebrows, thin lips. It was just when they were put together it looked like a mess. That mess was Darcy Coggins.

She was probably interrogating a new employee. They didn't normally use the small room in the back for wanted criminals. Sure enough, as she entered, there was some kid in the seat in the middle of the floor. Definitely not a mass murderer.

"Ah, Investigator Coggins, thank you for joining us," retorted Patrick Stone, senior investigator, from his seat as Darcy peered through the door. His cool voice matched his last name.

"Sorry, I was caught up a few rooms over," she muttered, leaving her clipboard on the metal table currently between Stone and his victim.

"That's fine, let's just get this started," ordered Stone, rolling his eyes at her.

It had been a while since she had helped in an interrogation of an employee. Normally, the actual investigators could take it themselves. Nonetheless, she didn't mind the calm of the little room compared the psychos in adjoining ones.

The room almost completely black. The tile from the hallways had followed her into the room. The walls, obviously plaster, were painted black as well. It would look like it was late at night if it wasn't for the fluorescent lighting bathing the room in it's synthetic glow. The light bounced across the tile illuminating the subject on the other side of the table.

Darcy never understood what sort of psychopaths worked down here that enjoyed watching people squirm. She always felt bad for them. This kid was no exception. The boy couldn't have been taller than she was, but then again Darcy was short for eighteen. His face was the reflection of anxiety. His long fingers were gripping the armrests like a vise. Maybe it was the lighting, but he appeared to be coated in a sheer layer of sweat. He had is eyes squeezed shut, his chest rising and falling heavily. No innocent man could be that terrified.

Darcy tore her eyes away from the poor man only to find the two way mirror. No one was probably over there. It's only there to freak the suspects out. However, if this guy was important, he'd have an audience. She picked up her copy of the boy's file from the table. She flipped through it as she made her way to her classic position, behind the chair holding the subject.