Alibi for a Tragedy

Chapter 2. The sound of your own thoughts.

This silence and knowing that any time, someone can burst through these metal doors and throw me into jail for life, for murder, is nothing compared to the migraine I am currently experiencing. I cradle my baby bump and the handcuffs rattle throughout the interrogation room. 

 While pregnant with my little sister my mom would always say:

The pain I endured while pushing your big head out, is enough justification for me to slap the shit out of you if you disrespect me.

I'll confess...I was a troubling child and my mom was hardcore, BUT she was also very good at parenting. Juggling a 8-5 job with three kids was not easy. With the little help she received from my physically disabled father pending from a stroke he suffered after my little sister's birth, I would say she did pretty good. Look how I turned out. Just for a moment, ignore the simple fact that I am in an interrogation room, awaiting to be either convicted off murder or be set free, and focus on the fact that I managed to hold down a very good and demanding job as an auditor at a financial company, well up until now. And that I didn't end up a drug addict. Which was a very possible turn out at some point in my life. But that's a story for another lifetime.

The door of the interrogation room swings open and a middle aged looking woman in a black suit and heels walks in followed by a young looking man formally dressed as well. They take the two seats opposite me and whisper a few things to each other.

The middle aged woman stares at me then at my cuffs, looking at them as if contemplating on whether i should be in them or not. Personally if it was up to me, I wouldn't be. Not because I know I didn't do anything illegal, debatable, but because I have an 8 month pregnant belly and if I was stand up and run, I wouldn't even reach the door before breaking a sweat and trying to catch my breath. I'm not saying I have thought about running, no, that's what guilty people do, I'm just stating the odds.
She stops looking at my cuffs and shakes her head opening the file in front of her. I look down to my hands, as i try to pluck out the dry blood from underneath my nails. My manicurist is going to have a field day when I get out.

"Hi Laura, you remember my assistant, Dylan," the middle aged woman, who had introduced herself earlier as Detective Turner, points to the man besides her, Dylan and clears her throat as she continues. "I just need you to sign this to indicate that I've read you your rights and that you agree to them."

She pushes a paper towards me with a pen, "Can i get my lawyer now," I ask pushing the paper back in her direction.

Her face becomes expressionless and she turns to look at Dylan, who shakes his head slightly, before looking down onto the table.

I stare at the glass wall behind the two officials as Detective Turner sighs and slams her hands on the table and I can feel how irritated she is now, "Laura, we just need you to let us know what happened early this morning."

"Is someone making roast beef?" I ask looking to Dylan, who looks naive to the eye.

"What?" Dylan

I lift my hand to silence them and sniff the air twice like a guard dog in search of contraband, "You don't smell that?" I sniff once again, "I swear that's the smell of roasted beef. Could be my raging hormones and the cravings but I can never miss that distinct smell."

"Laura, we under-"

"Wait no, no it's not roast beef, no. Roast beef has that particular smell to it, like," I tap my index finger and thumb together as if I'm deep in thought, "like a hybrid turkey or lamb or-or what's that animal with-"

"Mrs Jones!"

"Mrs Colson!" I interrupt, my eyes challenging those of Detective Turner as we stare at each other competitively, "That's my lawyer. You have my phone, her number is on speed dial, call her, please," she stares back me as if to crack me, " If not, well then you can sit here with me and listen to me either talk about my cravings or all the different types of diapers that prevent baby rash. The internet honestly tells you everything. You just have tp know where to look. Hell, I might even go through my list of possible baby names and let you choose one-,"

Detective Turner stands up, her chair roughly scraping against the cemented floor and leaves the room, leaving me alone with her protege, Dylan.

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Hi guys, I've been procrastinating on this book but I think it's time. I just wanted to place all the crazy thoughts in my head somewhere and here I am. Bear with me, please.

Also if you like something or read something you'd like to make a statement on, just comment and I'll reply as long the questions or so won't require me to spoil something.

Also, if you like the story, well then (: like, vote, comment. I would love to hear your thoughts on the characters as well as how the story makes you feel and who your favourite characters are.

enjoy xx

Lots of Love -from your friendly, neighbouring chicken