Serpentine Desires

The prey

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"He was a drug dealer. Dontello Maroni, an Italian mobster, wanted criminal, and you murdered him," the officer stated his tone chillingly calm.

"I did not murder anyone," I replied, my voice trembling slightly.

The officer leaned forward, his eyes narrowing. "We've got your blood samples, Ms. Rosewood. If we find anything suspicious, well, all the evidence will turn against you."

"I told you, I was at work last night," I insisted.

A smirk tugged at the corner of his mouth. "The place you claim to work at has been shut down for two years now. Are you sure you're not on drugs, Ms. Rosewood?" He paused, his gaze piercing. "Or maybe you're just confused. It's understandable, given your... condition."

My heart pounded in my chest. "I'm not on drugs, and I'm definitely not confused."

"Here's my theory," he continued, his voice dripping with condescension. "You went into that private meeting as a prostitute, hoping to score some drugs. When Maroni refused, you came out crying, and out of spite, you killed him. Isn't that right?"

His words echoed in my mind, sowing seeds of doubt. I shook my head, trying to cling to my truth. "No, that's not what happened."

He sighed, feigning sympathy. "You might not remember it clearly, but deep down, you know it's true. The evidence will prove it. You're not a killer, Ms. Rosewood, just a desperate woman who made a mistake."

The room felt smaller, the walls closing in as his words hung in the air. I clenched my fists, fighting to keep my composure.

"You're wrong," I said, my voice firmer. "I know what happened, and it's not what you're saying."

He chuckled softly, shaking his head. "Denial is a powerful thing. But let's talk about something else. You claim to work for Judas Romanovski, do you even know who he is?"

I froze my breath catching in my throat as I looked up at him. "What are you talking about?"

"Oh, come on, Ms. Rosewood. We know more about you than you think. It's all in your file. The late-night outs, the unexplained absences. Do you think people haven't noticed? That they don't talk?"

My mind raced, trying to piece together what he was saying. "I told you my work required me to come in the evening and leave around midnight- "

"Your deceased father, he was quite a character too, wasn't he? A troubled past, and a lot of anger. Maybe you inherit these traits from him. I know people can be dangerous when are in anger, you can admit you let your anger take the best of you and you murdered him."

My blood ran cold. How did he know about my father? "Leave my family out of this."

The officer leaned back, a satisfied smile on his face. "Touchy subject, I see. But the more you resist, the guiltier you look. If you're innocent, why not cooperate? Tell us the truth, and we'll help you. But if you keep lying, you're only digging your own grave."

I felt trapped, the walls of lies closing in around me. Every word he said felt like a noose tightening around my neck.

"I've told you the truth," I whispered. "I did not kill Dontello Maroni."

The officer sighed dramatically, shaking his head. "Such a shame. We could have helped you, Ms. Rosewood. But if you won't help yourself, there's nothing more we can do."

Suddenly the door opened, and a woman dressed in formal walked in, carrying a stack of documents. She handed them to the officer without a word and left as swiftly as she had arrived. The officer opened the folder, and I held my breath, dread pooling in my stomach.