The interviewer sat down across from me with a blank expression. His hair was cut short and shaved on the sides, like the classic reporter these days. I didn't know what stupid magazine or show he was reporting to, but I sure as hell did not like being on this side of the story. "I'm top reporter Samual. I have a few questions, but I want you to start from the beginning. Tell me about yourself." It took me a while before I spoke. Making headlines for being quote on quote insane is always great. I know what happened in that damned place. I breathed deeply not speaking, mainly since there was no reason for me to speak to the imbecile. "Tell me, detective Hawkins, rather ex-detective." I gave myself a few minutes, staring at the camera placed off to the sie behind the reporter. Then I spoke, ever so slowly, to him.
"I work for the New York City Police Department. I wear the NYCP proudly. I've been here a while," I trailed off, wanting to prove that I'm not insane; that I am in fact sane, "Everything was fine until my daughter's murder. My husband went crazy, constantly saying there was more to what happened then what we found. We found the murderer, but he insisted against it." I started to get restless at this point, gripping the side of the metal table between the interviewer and myself. "How can there be more if we found her in that house stripped of her limps?!" I took a deep breath then, staring at the man in front of me. "I'm sorry." Was the only thing I could manage to get out of my mouth. I didn't want to speak any longer. The interviewer leaned against the table slightly, more intrigued by the second. His white flannel shirt wrinkling ever so gently. He even wore white pants, like he was some sort of angel and myself a demon, awaiting punishment.
"No, please do tell more." His voice beckoned me, but it drowned out in my own thoughts of how bad I wanted to get out of that room with him. I stood up and paced to the door, my dark leather jacket swaying behind me. I didn't even spare a glance back at the man when I opened the door and left. I have better work to do.
YOU ARE READING
The Inmate (A short story)
Short StoryDetective Hawkins, a trustworthy person in the force, has to relive her horrid past when going through forceful events of her present. She wants to, no, she needs to prove herself innocent. She notices how different life is when you are the one behi...
