Alone - a Lorien Legacies fanfiction

Interrogation

Twenty

Madeleine

I was beginning to understand why the people being interrogated in crime dramas were rude towards law enforcement. The FBI agents had dragged us all to separate interrogation rooms that were freezing cold, but they had refused to allow us to see each other. We had to sit in the SUV's as they lead the others inside. First I had seen John pass - of course - then Six, Sam, Nine.... Nine. He still puffed out his chest and lead the agents forward as if he was the leader and they were the ones being detained. I watched as he quickly scanned the cars he passed, as if searching for a familiar face, but the back windows were tinted so much that there was no way he could have seen me. Marina was next, and I came after her. I never saw Adam.

They placed me in a gray metal chair as they chained my handcuffs and shackles to the heavy table in front of me. There was a large one-way mirror that practically occupied the entire wall in front of me, giving me a fantastic and unwanted view of my grubby self. God, I was worse than I thought. I had dirt on my nose, and my clothes were rumpled and filthy. I smelled like a sweaty campfire and looked like I should live under a bridge. One of the men who was chaining me down (while his buddy pointed his gun at me) seemed to hold his breath as he worked, and frankly, now that I was able to get a good look at myself, I couldn't blame him.

I suspected that there were agents behind the one-way mirror now, jotting down notes to give to their superiors. Maybe they were reading up on a file they had pulled on me, taking note of my parents and high school record. Perhaps they were making a psychological profile on me like I watched the Behavioral Analysis team do so many times on Criminal Minds.

Madeleine Eleanor Paisley: 17 y/o, Female, Atlanta, Georgia. Extraterrestrial freak with abusive alien parents. Poor grades in high school, charges brought against yet dropped in a case for truancy. School counselor labeled her as high risk suicidal two months ago and possible flight risk...

Yada yada yada. So, when two female agents entered my interrogation room and confiscated my shoes, socks, and belt, I was not surprised. Yeah, I had considered things months ago, when I felt completely alone and utterly useless. But now, things were different. I found a purpose, and I was no longer a sitting duck under my father's roof. I found a voice, and I found people who appreciated me for me. I didn't have to change for them, and none of them expected me to. 

"Oh, yes, please tell me how I'm going to hang myself when I'm shackled to this table. Are you going to interrogate me yet?"

They didn't answer, but I did notice that they left more annoyed than they came. Good.

Hours passed slowly. Very, very slowly. I tried to entertain myself by singing quietly or even beating out a rhythm on a table, but as soon as I started, a male voice came over the intercom and asked me to stop. Then I tried to sleep, but whenever I would lean forward, the cuffs would dig into my wrists, stirring up the burn from old scars. 

I began to grow hungry what felt like an eternity later, and Mother Nature began to call. I tried to suppress everything until an agent came in to speak with me, but after a few more minutes, things began to become unbearable. The FBI was taking their sweet, sweet time, and I had to pee. So, I figured I'd get back at them for making me wait so long.

I braced myself for the skull-splitting headache I was about to receive, and I let out a blood-curdling scream.

It wasn't five seconds before agents began to flood in, some pointing their guns at me while others were carrying first aid kits. Two men grabbed my shoulders to check my pulse before I began to snicker, ignoring the major dizziness that just washed over me. The red-headed woman rushed past her agents, slightly panicked. But, with one glance at my laughing face, she instantly became furious.