Justin Bieber/Jason McCann Imagines | Book One

Recordings (Jason McCann)

The second the tape began to record, the room fell silent. I watched the man, who I knew by the name of Frank, in front of me - he wore a dark grey suit and spectacles on the end of his nose.

"So," He said abruptly. "Jason McCann. Welcome back." The shadow of a grin appeared on his lips and it was filled with dislike. I scoffed. "How you feelin'?"

I could sense his enjoyment in my presence, and I wanted nothing more than to jump over the table and strangle him. "Oh, I'm fine, thank you, Frank. Never been better." A tight smirk rested on my lips while I stared at him.

I watched the mirror behind him, knowing there were four or five people watching me closely in case I lashed out. I sent a wink through the mirror before turning my attention back to Frank.

"So last time we caught you, you'd caused a fire in the nearby restaurant, am I correct?" He asked, holding his pen and paper firmly in his hand.

"Caused a fire, started a fire; they're pretty much the same thing." I bounced my leg under the table as I felt the bright lights in the room making me feel hot.

"And this time?" He asked.

"You're supposed to know what I'm in for, your people were the bastards that caught me after all." I glared at him.

"Calm down, McCann. We're not trying to get you worked up on purpose." He sighed and looked down at the sheets on the table. "Murder. That's a new one, even for you." He sent me a knowing look and I instantly avoided his eyes. "All we know right now is that it was a young girl, around your age in fact. Anything else you want to tell us?"

"I didn't do it." I muttered. For the first time I felt insecure. I slumped in my chair.

"Did you have any connections with the girl?" He asked, still ready for me to spill with the pen in his hand.

"Pass." I let my tongue drag across my lips.

"You can't just 'pass', Jason. This is serious. Who is this girl and why did you kill her?" He spat, his words were much more demanding now.

The image of her laid on the floor, blooding flowing from every inch of her chest repeated in my mind and I felt my chest closing in.

"Pass."

"You're very quiet, McCann. Something wrong? Is the famous douchebag feeling some sort of remorse?" He was taunting me and I knew it, I refused to fall into the trap.

He sighed and repositioned himself. "We know you did it, Jason. We've got your fingerprints. There's no turning back and no way of getting out of it. So, just tell us what happened."

But it wasn't me. It couldn't have been me. I would never hurt her.

And yet, here I was, sat found guilty and handcuffed. I couldn't comprehend anything that was being said to me, and I felt the pressure pushing against my body.

"I-I don't know." I stuttered.

"You don't know? How can you not know?" He was staring at me and I felt my heart pounding in my chest while my eyes burned into the table in front of me rather than at the man.

I couldn't breathe. Just like I used to feel winded when she smiled at me and pressed her lips against my skin. But now she's laid out on the floor, unable to move and unable to smile at me.

"It all happened so fast, I was angry. She wasn't listening to me and I didn't know what to do. I didn't mean to." I said weakly, feeling my voice break.
Frank, on the other hand, sat looking shocked while scribbling on the sheet of paper.

"Who wasn't listening, Jason?" I heard his voice but it sounded far away, as though I was being pushed away from everything and everyone and all there was was black.

"Sh-she's gone?" I stuttered, and felt my hands balling up into fists while my voice simply got weaker. "I can't do it without her, I told her that. Why would she leave?"

"McCann. Who are you talking about?" The voice spoke again. It was even more distant now.

"Shut the fuck up." I spat, slamming my rock hard fist against the table. It shook under my touch.

"Jason. We've got a girl that's been laid in a hospital bed for the past twenty four hours. She's been pronounced dead and we've traced it all back to you. Now, you're not leaving this room until you tell me why you killed this girl." He leaned back in his chair.

"Stop. Don't fucking say that. She's not dead, alright? I was angry but I wouldn't- I wouldn't kill her."

I was shaking. My hair fell into my face while my body rattled against the table like a half empty pill bottle. My eyes burned into his face. I tried to separate my arms but I was restricted by the handcuffs.

"We've got photo evidence of her death, McCann. Maybe you need to see it?" He turned, but I didn't catch the motion he made to the people inspecting me from behind the mirror window.

A woman walked in with long black hair and a black blazer wrapped around her shoulders. I stared as she handed Frank a folder before glancing at me and walking out.

"Here," He said as he opened the folder. "This is your doing. You did this. Now, tell us, who is she?"

The photos were laid out in front of me and I felt my heart beating abnormally fast now, as though at any moment it was going to burst out of my skin and run away.

"No," I whispered. "M-my babygirl." I leaned forward, and for the first time in years, tears glazing my eyes. "I didn't mean it. I didn't want this to happen."

She looked as though she was asleep, like when I'd wake up and see her still laid there with her eyes closed in our bed. But the blood was far too noticeable for me to be able to pretend. It covered her chest, just like I recall it did on the day. I couldn't see her eyes like I could when she fell to the floor. My heart clenched at the way betrayal and hurt swirled through her eyes before they closed forever.

"Jason, was this girl your girlfriend?" He asked, and I found myself shaking my head vigorously. I gulped to stop myself from letting the tears fall.

"No," I choked. "Because I wouldn't hurt my girl, never. I told her I'd never lay a finger on her, no matter how much I hurt others. This isn't happening."

"What was your girlfriend's name?"

"She's not fucking dead, Frank." I hissed, slamming my fist down on the table, but because I was wearing handcuffs, it caused the other to do the same. "She can't be."

"We've got all the evidence we need to know that you did it. All we need is name- of course we can find that out in the next couple of days but you'd be really helping us out if you could give it to us." He said, a twisted smile on his face.

"Why the fuck would I want to help a group of bastards like you? Just throw me in a cell instead of throwing your dumb ass questions at me. I'm done." I muttered.

I felt myself physically becoming weak, not because I was tired or annoyed I'd been caught, but because she was gone. Knowing she wasn't waiting for me to get out caused me to have no desire in my body to get out of jail anytime soon.

"Oh, don't worry; we're going to. And you've got a few years to sit and go over the fact that you, Jason McCann, killed your own girlfriend." He said, before standing up and walking towards the door.

I was left to feel his words seeping into my system. It was as though my vision was fading and all I could see was red; red on my hands, red on her chest, red pouring through my eyesight like blood moving across skin.

I remembered the way she screamed and writhed underneath me. I felt numb at the time, and I didn't effect me in any way. But now, it was all I could hear. Her dying face was all I could picture in my mind.

And I cried. Jason McCann cried. Not strictly because of the feeling of loss, but because my girlfriend was gone. And wasn't coming back. Ever.

It was all my fault.