(OLD) River

Jackson

TW: Swearing, mentions of murder (is that really a surprise?), drugs

I've been sitting in this interrogation room for hours. I feel like I could fall asleep at any moment. I can't though. They said I'd be able to stay in some holding cell overnight. One with a bed. However, I am stuck here right now.

I gave Officer Lewis a fast paced overview of everything. And I mean everything. But I'll be giving a more in depth and thorough confession/statement to a few FBI agents.

I was told that my mom and Johnny were just here, but were told to go home. I wish I could've seen just one of them. For just one second.

In the years I was gone—I was told it's only been two—I realized how quickly the image of someone's face can disappear. I hardly remember Mom's face. I know she has a mole in the same place as mine, and the same eyes as me, but I can hardly visualize her as a whole. I remember the shape of her short curly hair, but it's more of a silhouette in my mind rather than anything detailed.

I hate that.

I  hate not being able to see her when I shut my eyes, and pretend I'm still home.

Johnny is easier to see in my head though. I just look in a mirror and pretend the mole isn't there. And all the bruises on my face.

I've gained a cut on my eyebrow. It's mostly healed over now, but it has scarred so I now have a badass slit in my eyebrow. The story isn't anything special. He had just gotten a little mad and snapped at me.

I hear talking outside the door. It's incoherent—muffled, but it's there.

The door opens. Three guys and Officer Lewis walk in. They brought two spare chairs to accommodate for the extra people. One of the guys smiles at me, so does Lewis, but the other two seem to ignore my presence.

Lewis takes a chair and sets it in the corner of the room. She sits there. She already spoke with me directly, so I guess she's just here in support or to watch over. I don't really know exactly.

The three guys—who are from the FBI—sit across from me. They're smooshed in close together, side by side. It's a little funny to see.

The one who smiled at me introduces himself, "I'm Agent Copper." He shows me his badge for a moment. "I've been leading your case, along with Agent Friedman and Agent Gaylord." He gestures to the other two men.

I have to bite my lip to keep myself from making any reaction to the final guy's name. I've heard Gaylord used as a first name before—in The Amazing World of Gumball, a childhood delicacy—but never as a last name. I wonder if his name is Gaylord Gaylord. It's definitely possible.

Agent Copper seems younger than I'd expect of someone leading a case like this. Maybe 25-35 years old. He's Black, his dark hair buzzed short. He's got a goatee and his arm muscles are very noticeable in his short-sleeved button up. He has on a navy tie too. There's no denying that he is hot.

What?

Agent Gaylord has long eyelashes, and grey-ish blue eyes. He has short, blonde hair, though you can see a slight wave in it. He looks pretty muscular too. He's not bad looking.

Agent Friedman is less attractive. He's pale with major eye bags. He appears significantly older, maybe mid-fifties to sixties. His hair is grey, along with his beard.

Copper clears his throat. "I'm sure you've met Officer Lewis." He gestures over to her. I nod in response. "Good. I suggest we get straight into the interview if that's alright with you."

I nod again. This is where shit gets heavy.

Gaylord sets up a recording device, so this whole conversation is on record. That fact stresses me out way more.