Proof

Chapter Three

Light managed to penetrate the slits of the blinds. I sat, cross-legged on a leather chair in front of a mahogany desk. My heart had once been racing and so was my mind, but they slowly began to compose themselves. I shifted my weight and sniffed, not because I was said, but because I was sick. I tossed my hair over my shoulder and scratched my eyes, yawning. It had been a long day, and tomorrow would be longer. At any rate, today wouldn't end. The room itself was pretty plain, featuring nothing more than a desk and a chair, probably so people like "me" couldn't break out or try to commit suicide. It's three walls were a pale shade of pastel blue, and one wall was entirely a tinted window. It gave me the chills, knowing that some people on the other side could see me, and I couldn't see them.

"Kylie," the woman prompted. I sighed. We've been through this, I mused. 

“I told you,” I said through gritted teeth, “I didn’t do it.” But the woman didn’t look convinced. It's not like anyone would believe me. The evidence was there. The proof was in the pudding... metaphorically speaking. No one would believe a seventeen year old girl's claims, but then again, no one could believe a seventeen year old, who fails gym, could pull this off either. Seeing as they had no other suspect, I was their only lead. And I wasn't willing to give up any information. Instead, she simply scribbled something onto the clipboard that was wedged between her arm and her chest. Her lips parted and she grabbed a stool, sitting across me. She tucked a fly-away strand of her brown hair behind her ear and bit her lower lip.

“You know, Kylie,” she said firmly, “it would be a lot easier on you, and on me, if you just told everyone the truth.”

“But I am telling you the truth!” I exploded. We’d been speaking for hours on end, and I’d been supplying the same story over and over again. They don’t want the truth - they just want to hear what they believe is right, I thought to myself. I was stuck in between a rock and a hard place, and it wasn't ideal... or fun. “I’m telling you the truth,” I said, more quietly this time. The woman, who introduced herself as Linda, slid a pencil behind her ear and glided across the table, so that her face was close to mine, so that her breath lingered on my face.

“Listen, Kylie,” she said stiffly, “I want out, and you want out. Just admit your crime, and you’ll be home free.”

“But I didn’t do anything-”

“Where were you on the day of the robbery?”

“I was at the museum-”

“And did you,” she said, now pacing the room, “or did you not enter the museum after hours?”

“Not necessarily,” I admitted. “I was there ten minutes before it closed.”

“Giving you plenty of time to steal the Mona Lisa, and leave, am I not correct?”

“In logical terms, yes, I could’ve stolen it, but I didn’t.” How many times do I have to explain myself? “What would I want with that rancid painting, anyway? Several times, I’ve expressed my dislike to that painting, so what motive would I have?”

Linda pursed her lips, considering the factors. “Valid point you’ve raised there, Kylie. But still-”

“You have my DNA because I was there, I’ll admit that. Of course I went to the museum; that’s no lie. Mia, or my geography teacher will vouch for you and tell you I was there, because I was there with them. I did not steal the Mona Lisa.” It was tiring explaining myself again and again to some stubborn adult who just didn’t want to admit they were wrong. I took a deep breath, and closed my eyes. “But maybe,” I started once more, “maybe, I can help you find the people who did it.” I racked my brains, trying to remember the names of the people in the group. The memory played in my brain like a DVD. I remembered the two people, suspended in the air. I remembered them unscrewing the glass. “Robin. One is called Robin.” Linda began scribbling things onto her clipboard. I didn’t want to admit I’d seen it; I didn’t want to get involved. Besides, they were professionals! If they found out that I ratted them out, they’d probably hire an assassin to kill me quietly. But I was tired of explaining, so I continued. “Annabelle and Sam. And there was this girl,” I said closing my eyes. “A blond girl. Tall, tan, beach body. Hooked nose, one piercing, light blue eyes, long wavy hair. She seduced the guard and the ticket-guy. I could point her out of you guys gave me some pictures, or something.” Linda was still jotting things down, her mouth partly opened.