10:38 AM
The cool metal of the chair sends chills up my body as I slide into the seat. The room is solely made up of four white walls, a square wooden table, two chairs and a locked door. It isn't remotely large but every sound I make seems to echo for eternity. With it's blinding fluorescent lights and sterile smell like someone had flooded the room with hand sanitizer, it could easily pass for a hospital.
In fact, I wish it was.
My phone buzzes in my pocket and I fish it out to see a text message from an unknown number. Without hesitation, I open it.
The screen reads: Is it done?
Just as I'm about to reply the door flies open and in walk two men. I hastily shove my phone in my pocket before the notice it, and attempt to act nonchalant. One of the officers, clad in full uniform, stations himself next to the door. As if I would attempt to make a daring and heroic escape. I almost smile at the ridiculousness of the thought. The second man walks towards the table and takes a seat in the chair right across from mine. Picking up on my faint smile he says, "Something funny, Ms. Mitchell?"
I'm tempted to roll my eyes but instead I shake my head, knowing that the former action would only dig me a deeper hole. Unlike the one posted at the door, this officer is wearing a simple black shirt and khakis. He has greasy black hair that looks like it hasn't been washed in years, and the noticeable bags under his eyes indicate his lack of sleep. He's probably only 30 and already looks burnt out and faded. I've always pitied people like that. The ones who are already done with this world before they have seen even half of what it has to offer. I flash him my most charming smile and try to act innocent. I am innocent. Right? Or is it another lie I keep telling myself. There seems to be a lot of those these days.
The officer scoots his chair closer to the table, causing a horrific scraping noise that bounces off the walls and amplifies. The interrogation hasn't even begun, and they're already using their tactics on me. He smirks at my discomfort, leans over, narrows his eyes and says, "Let's begin."
YOU ARE READING
Timebomb
Mystery / ThrillerAdrian Walsh has it all; brains, beauty and brawns. But inside she's a ticking timebomb knowing that her brother's time is running out. But how can she help if she herself can't tell innocence from murder? As she desperately attempts to conceal her...
