𝐓𝐨𝐨 𝐌𝐮𝐜𝐡 𝐋𝐞𝐟𝐭 𝐔𝐧𝐭𝐨𝐥𝐝

𝐄𝐈𝐆𝐇𝐓

9:45 am

Chicago Police Department

Mia nervously fidgeted in her seat, her eyes fixed on the officer across from her. It had been a grueling forty-five minutes of repeating herself, but it seemed like the officer just wouldn't take her seriously. She let out an exasperated sigh as he questioned her once again.

"So you say you killed him?" the man asked.

"Yeah," Mia replied, her annoyance evident in her voice.

"What's your name again?" he inquired.

"Michaela Jackson," she responded, her frustration growing.

"Why'd you kill him you say?"

"He assaulted my girlfriend—well, we weren't dating yet, but she was still a friend," Mia repeated.

"It's been twelve years now, why are you confessing now?" the officer questioned, clearly confused.

"Because someone else was gonna take the fall," Mia fired back, her voice filled with frustration.

"How modest," the officer sarcastically remarked, a hint of annoyance in his tone. "This case is closed, it was an accident," he stated firmly, attempting to end the conversation.

But Mia wasn't ready to back down. She reached into her pocket and pulled out her phone, handing it to the officer. "Someone sent me this video," she explained. "Curly long hair, clearly me." She lied, knowing that the black and white, blurry footage made it easier for her to deceive.

The officer glanced at the screen, his expression shifting slightly. "Look, the case is closed. How 'bout we keep it that way," he suggested, trying to brush off the evidence.

Mia's frustration boiled over. "If you don't arrest me, someone else will go down for it. Arrest me now, or I'll tell your superior about this bullshit," she snapped.

The officer hesitated for a moment, realizing the weight of her threat. "By the looks of it, you seem to have a fortune. Why do you wanna go to jail so badly?" he questioned, his curiosity piqued.

"I committed a crime! Why the hell are you asking stupid questions?!" Mia shot back, her voice tinged with anger.

The officer shook his head, a mix of disbelief and concern on his face. "You're crazy for wanting to go to jail so bad," he muttered under his breath, unsure of what to make of Mia's determination.

"Bro, I will kill you next," Mia warned, her anger seething through her words.

The man's expression hardened as he processed her threat. "Fine," he grumbled, his frustration evident. He reached for the phone on his desk and dialed a number, his fingers tapping impatiently. After a brief conversation, he hung up and turned back to Mia. "Michaela Jackson, you are under arrest for the murder of Leonardo Hernandez. Everything you say now may and will be used in court," he declared, his voice stern.

Mia let out a bitter scoff, her eyes locked on the officer. "Had to threaten your life so you could do your damn job," she muttered sarcastically. She slowly rose from her seat, her body language conveying a weary acceptance of her fate. With a resigned expression, she extended her hands towards the officer, silently offering herself to the handcuffs that awaited her.