Like a Moth to a Flame

Lisa 7

Stupid tears. Stupid memories. Stupid James. Detective Reynolds just walked out of the room like he was going to be sick. That reaction doesn't make me feel or look good but that's probably what most people would think had I told them what was really going on rather than just smiling and saying everything was fine. How twisted am I that I let this continue?

I can feel my stomach twisting into knots and I feel I'm about to be sick. I try to distract myself looking at my watch because they've confiscated my phone. I've been in interrogation for 4 hours already. I don't even remember when I got here. How I got here. I just remember screaming. Lots of screaming and blood. The thick scent of iron filled the air and burned my nostrils. I close my eyes forcing myself to relive that moment when I walked into James's apartment last night. But for the life of me, I can't remember what happened. There's like this brick wall in my mind preventing me from going any further and its driving me insane.

Reynolds is going to keep pushing for details and I just want to go home and curl up into my sheets and just sleep off this nightmare because that's what it feels like right now. Surreal.

  They keep saying James is dead and if I close my eyes, I can see him laying on his couch, eyes wide open staring at the ceiling, and just so much blood. But my heart isn't registering that he's dead. This just doesn't make sense.

I don't know if I should be asking for a lawyer at this point because I've just been answering questions as best as I can and I don't know what else to do.

I'm hungry and cold and as I look down at myself, I notice blood stains on my t-shirt, jeans and shoes. I just want to get out of here. I look must look like a serial killer to anyone who's seen me. They probably think its me who did this. I wish I could say without a shadow of a doubt that it wasn't me, but I don't know the truth. Its like this missing puzzle piece that I can't find.

I lay my head down onto my arms, close my eyes and rest for a bit before Reynolds comes back for round three. Its cold in here and I begin to shiver as my mind wanders off to James. His features. His dark hair neatly kept. His tan skin, dark brown eyes and his beard. I remember the feeling of his beard against my cheek the first time he tried to kiss me. I can still feel the rough bristles brushing up against me, scratching my cheek as I turned my head away from him like a shy, young girl would do. But it was his eyes, that my attention is drawn back to. They looked so...empty. So dark. Like there was nothing behind them, just pure darkness.

I'm jolted out of this moment by a warm hand on my skin. Its Reynolds and another officer I presume, and they're both standing looking down on me. "Lisa, we're going to go ahead and release you but if there's anything that you can recall, any information that you have, please give us a call. We'll be in contact soon if we have any questions for you," Reynolds says as he hands me two business cards with their contact information on them. I eye them both for a second, taking their cards and clutching them as I stand up, for the first time in 4 hours and walk past them and out of that cold, gray room, through their main reception area and towards the elevator bank. I lift my hand to press the button and notice its shaking. I instinctively hug myself again, closing my eyes, wanting to disappear, wanting those doors to open so I can hide because it feels all eyes are on me. They finally do open and thankfully the the elevators empty. I begin to step in when I feel a hand touch my arm.