sweethearts

𝟎𝟒 • lunchroom whispers

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CHAPTER FOUR:
"LUNCHROOM WHISPERS"
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ALÍZ WAS WEARING A black and white striped prison dress. Her immediate thought when she looks down at herself was that the dress looked absolutely horrendous. She huffs slightly as she brushes her fingers through her newly dyed platinum blonde hair; the girl wasn't used to having such a very bright color against her pale face. She felt it made her face look almost vampire-like and not in a good way. She finally tore her eyes away from the mirror and tried distracting herself from her newfound appearance.

Nobody knew that Alíz was undercover. They all assumed she was just another loon, passing through. She tapped the side of her forehead as she recalled the few bits of information they had given her before they sent her in.

Jerome was being transported the next morning. Alíz would have to communicate with him as a different person. She had to gain his trust and monitor him. Alíz had to make sure he was properly recovering. But she didn't expect him to know who she was right away, she expected him to know her by Anna Kingman.

Anna Kingman was described as a psychopathic, paranoid, love-hating, serial killer. Her main targets would be couples who did nothing but walk by her. She committed all of the murders with belongings that were on the victims at the time. Anna Kingman had committed all of the murders in Mooney's Nightclub before being apprehended by the police.

Alíz took a deep breath as she settled her mind in with all of that information. And, Jerome has endured severe head trauma. That was all of the information she knew at the moment.

Alíz sighs and closes her eyes. She looked back at the mirror and saw herself. She almost didn't recognize herself. The longer she stared, the longer she became lost in thought.

A guard opened her cell abruptly, "Therapy session," she said sternly and grabbed her left arm. The guard was sort of pulling her towards the therapist's office even though Alíz was walking willingly. When they got to the office, she got pushed in rather roughly. The guard grabbed her and unlocked the handcuffs around her wrists.

"Do you need me to stay in the room with you, Dr. Miller?" A voice behind Alíz began to speak, "No, Davis, we're fine." The guard nods and looks down at Alíz, "Behave," she says in a threatening tone as she let go of Alíz's shoulders. The door shut slowly and Alíz was now left alone in the room with Dr. Miller.

Alíz looked around the seemingly empty room and finally, she spotted her supposed therapist. He was a tall, skinny man sitting behind his wooden desk. He smiles and that smile unsettled her. She didn't know why, but the sudden curve of the smile and the smug look in his eyes made her want to throw up. The man motioned toward the chair in front of his desk, "Have a seat won't you?"

Alíz hesitantly sat down in the chair, rubbing her sore wrists. He doesn't say anything else. He was just staring at her with his piercing eyes—almost threateningly.

The silence feels suffocating as it washed over the room rapidly. Dr. Miller opens a document, somewhat cutting the quiet. "Anna Kingman," he chuckles, "You're an interesting character, aren't you." Dr. Miller puts his head in his hand as he read the file. Alíz's brows furrow; he was enjoying himself? There was silence until he decided to speak again, "How did it feel to kill all those people?"

Alíz's face reverted to its blank stare, and she didn't say a thing. "What? No answer," he asks almost sadly. Alíz shifts in her chair, "Ask me again in an hour." He disappointedly looks over Alíz and notices her left arm was covered in scars. A smile lifted on his face, "Wanna talk about those scars on your arm?" Alíz glanced at her arm for a moment, she sighs and remains silent. "They look self-inflicted." He quips once more. This fucker is so nosy.