Contagious

It Wasn't me

"Why did you kill her?" The lady asks me.

My trembling hands sit in my lap, nail beds crusted with dry blood. I pick at the skin around my fingernails, trying to forget the image of her dead body.

Hair sticky with the liquid from her raw veins, it clings to my forehead . The dark red colour stains my bleach blonde hair. I can't meet the detective's eyes.

"For the last time, I didn't do it," I mutter.

"Hear that, he didn't do it," the detective mocks me.

A few of the guards erupt with laughter.

"Lock him up," she spits at me like her body is trying to regurgitate a displeasing taste.

o!ne man roughly jerks my hands behind my back, causing me to wince in pain as the burning of the bullet wound shoots up my spine. The flesh around the wound is raw from where Officer Mossen dug her thumb as a torture tactic.

The tips of my shoes catch the floor as they lift me towards a cell, kicking and screaming.

"YA CAN'T DO THIS TO ME!" I yell.

The doors are unlocked as they throw me into the small space, my shoulder coming in contact with the cement floor.

"AGHHH!" I shriek painfully.

There is the swift sound of metal sliding against metal and then the click of the lock. I drag myself to my feet and shake the bars a few times, as though that's going to get me out of here any faster.

My name is Mike Hawkner, I'm a seventeen year old boy who has been accused of murdering my ex-girlfriend. She was found dead yesterday at two in the afternoon as I cradled her dead body. Agreed, it was not the best position for the authorities to find me in, and running away was not a very good choice but it was my first instinct. Kind of like a mouse that's been cornered by a bunch of cats.

All of this to say; after shooting me in the arm, they dragged me down to the maze of a basement and sat me in one of the interrogation rooms.

"Ya fuckers, get me the hell outta here!" I yell.

I'm from the south, if that isn't obvious. Texas to be precise. I write properly, no slang, although I suppose that's due to my mothers persistent need to push my education.

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I throw pebbles against the wall, which pleasantly annoys the guard on duty whom grunts every time another small rock is launched. Counting the minutes until I get out is useless, it's not like anyone's going to come for me. I stopped at three hours and twenty three minutes.

The cell door beside mine opens up and someone drags their heavy feet into their room. I bolt up, ignoring my neighbour and throw myself on the bars.

"LEMME OUT!" I yell, kicking the door.

"HEY!" I call to the guards who slowly disappear around the corner.

"Enough with the yelling," someone says from the next cell.

"Humph," I grunt in annoyance.

I slouch against the crumbling wall, trying to regain my composure and keep from crying. My eyes sweep the room around me, trying to comprehend how I got myself into this mess in the first place. The thud of footsteps echoes down the hall and I don't even bother getting up to see who it is, covering my eyes with my hands.

Behind my hands I picture Alisha's face. Her crinkled eyes as she smiled a thousand watt grin. The sultry laughter that could make a thousand men kiss the floor at her feet. Dark brown eyes, and a golden skin complexion made her look like an Egyptian goddess. She was always a little mischievous, and not in a positive way. I doze off, a beautifully painted picture of my ex-girlfriend behind my eyelids.