The People Of The Town

The People Of The Town: Chapter One

   "Who was in Parshels Town last night?" The police men asked once again. I smirked and looked up at the bland colored ceiling, as I knew the Miranda Rights. I wouldn't speak a word, why would I? Whatever I would say would be used to my disadvantage. Isn't that what they say, everything you say can and will be used against you? Besides, they were already settled on a story. No matter what, they'll just say that a group of women killed two men because they felt overpowered. It was all wrong. It was four men, but two bodies were never found. It wasn't a group of women; it was a group of girls, twelve year old girls, which included me. Finally, we didn't feel overpowered. In fact, we were in charge. The men lived in fear for a reason I'll explain later.

   Even if I told this, they wouldn't care. They already knew it, they just want names. Then I thought I would be done with this whole mess if I just told them what they wanted to hear. "The two men were local milkmen. They delivered to us every day." They wanted me to lie. "The women," I was thinking about what I should say, "I had never seen them before. They snuck in the cabin and started shooting. Then. they left and I ran in. I fainted at the sight and then I was here." They were recording every word. One of the police men slowly locked his fingers together and rested his chin on them. Then, they both smiled.

   They stopped the recording. One suggested a thank you by sticking out his hand for a shake. I stared at it for about five seconds and left the room. This interrogation was not proper. It occurred in a little old warehouse just outside of Parshels Town. I ran out with a tan bag rapped around my shoulder. It held everything that connected me to that night.