Retrospections of a Poetic Cutthroat (H. S. AU)

2. Fallacy

Hi again! A certain someone finally makes an appearance this chapter. :D

Let me know what you think!

*****

fallacy (lat.)

a misleading or unsound argument

*****

                  

Interrogation room 3 is two levels below the ground floor and out of the sight of prying eyes. At the end of a long corridor, the grey door greets Harper like an old acquaintance, a distant memory resurfacing from the depths of her subconscious. 

It comes with the familiar jingle of too tight handcuffs, long drawn out (and mostly one sided) conversations, frustrated sighs, blank stares and poorly made coffee. Looking back on it, the whole ordeal seems eons away from the present but still feels as if it only happened yesterday. The gloriously dull room which housed her when she was brought in must be just as she'd left it; cold, impersonal and frustratedly unaesthetic in comparison to the grandeur of the floors above. Maybe intentionally constructed as such as a means of making whoever had the misfortune of being questioned feel insignificant, uncomfortable.

It certainly worked for her at that time, making her wish she was never as careless as she had been, making her wish she never got tangled up in the mess that led to her being arrested, making her squeamish because it reminded her of the cramped up flat she shared with her mother. Not one good memory she has of those times long gone but seeing as today she finds herself on the other side of the barricade eases her nerves if only a bit.

Why was it such a big deal to her so suddenly? Questioning petty criminals is second nature to her by now and albeit begrudgingly even Abrams admitted that she was doing a damn good job. She didn't need the praise because she knew she was good. Call her narcissistic, but she just knew she was the best.

So why is she overcome with anxiety? Why does she have an ominous feeling about whatever is going to transpire beyond that metal door?

She molds her expression into what she hopes is indifferent enough to the untrained eye as she comes face to face with the two guards on each side of the door, guns at the ready and matching blank stares on their faces. Harper briefly thinks if this entire charade is necessary or just a means of further intimidation. The person waiting behind that door most likely isn't stupid enough to attempt an escape, not with the security cameras and the ridiculous amount of people she is sure are watching everything as it is being recorded.

"Well aren't you two just jolly, eh?" she says quietly, if only to loosen the tension, to make her feel a bit more like her usual snarky self. Naturally the burly men don't even as much as acknowledge her, keeping their eyes trained ahead but visibly stiffening when Abrams comes into view.

He insisted on accompanying her personally to give her a few more indications before throwing her into the lion's den.

"If anything goes badly we'll pull you out as soon as possible. Good luck." The words don't sound the least bit reassuring.

*****

The screeching makes her ears bleed and the artificial ghostly neon light makes her eyes hurt but what determines her to nearly stop in her tracks is the vaguely familiar sensation of being watched, scrutinized and judged. She doesn't look up immediately but she can already feel this man's larger than life presence and she doesn't like it at all.

Slowly Harper shuts the door behind her and trudges to the unoccupied chair, fixing her steady gaze on the man for the first time. She searches for any kind of negative emotion; a scowl, a slight crease of the eyebrows, a look of disgust or plain distrust. Surprisingly, she finds none.