[TORD'S POV]
Officer Matthew entered the room and took my arm, getting me to stand up and follow him. "See you, Edward." I smiled a bit, biting my lip as I left the room. Oh, I'd see him again alright. My plan to kill him had deteriorated by now, but nonetheless, I had a use for him in mind. All events are proceeding precisely as I had foreseen... minus Edward's presence. Yet, the law seems to believe that they have succeeded in trapping me. How naive they are to underestimate my foresight and intellect. This is just a game to me. "Matthew, could I request that I am not left alone for too long?" I asked kindly, steadily following him down the corridors he led me through. We landed in a small room with a long desk and some machinery. He groaned, pointed to the wall and standing behind a small camera. "Why is that? Safety reason?" He cocked his head at me. "I'd rather not be in the cell for too long, that's all." I admitted, standing in front of a wall. He took a photo of me and then opened a pad of ink. "I understand. Give me your hand." He slid out a small, thick piece of paper. I curiously held out my hand, his fingers holding mine as he pressed them into the ink.
I watched the veins and tendons as they moved throughout his hands, strong and sturdy, but still smaller than mine. He pressed each of my fingers against the paper, doing each of my hands quickly. He got to my last thumb and grabbed it, pressing it and tilting it side to side on the paper to get the whole print. It occurred to me that my fingerprints were not in the system prior to this, and this is going to be a new hurdle for me if I ever attempt something in the future.
He then took me back through the wall, reaching behind me and taking off my handcuffs as he opened the door to a cell. "The process isn't usually long. We're just going to see if Tom presses charges, and if he doesn't, you can leave for now." His response made me somewhat appreciate him even though he was the one locking me in a room, isolated. I narrowed my eyes in distaste still and took a look around me as he shut me in. It was just a cell for people like me to wait around in until we were deemed safe to be elsewhere. I'd probably be in here for no more than a couple of hours. It had a concrete shelf I assumed was the bed, a metal, chrome toilet with a sink on top, and no windows minus one thin, tall window on the heavy door. God, I couldn't imagine living in an actual prison. I'd tear apart everyone and everything.
I lowered myself onto the coarse and hard bed, which didn't have a blanket or pillow. Just very uncomfortable concrete. Although the walls of the room had been painted, the off-white paint had begun chipping from the concrete walls. It was still better than being locked up in a bleak, barred concrete cell like the ones you'd see on the television. "Although..." I mumbled out loud, listening to the slight echo of my voice between the close walls. I'm honored that the only thing that can stop me is a room made of breezeblocks. It implies I'm more powerful than any human can reasonably handle. "Hah." I laughed a bit, laying back on the concrete shelf of a bed. I wish I had one of my notebooks with me. I can check off the first few sections of my plan to deal with this legal crap. Between Edward and the officers at my job, I was being extremely careful to measure my reactions and decisions. I knew it'd be unrealistic to escape this kind of confinement, but I also knew I could plan my way in and out of it. This had to happen, as there was no way to avoid it. But there is a way out of it.
Still, I thought about everything I had been accused of, and everything that Edward had said to me. I truly had not been expecting to see him here. I hadn't even considered his presence as a possibility, since all the information I'd collected was solely from the department itself. I didn't filter for mentions of 'Edward' in this case. At the end of the day, I suppose I'm here no matter what, and the results yielded will be very much so worth my efforts. I kind of enjoy having Edward here, strangely enough. I wonder on a deeper level if my responses to things he'd just said to me were ever genuine. Sure, I don't feel actually guilty for what I did to Thomas. But I'm right, aren't I? He likes me, and we're great together. I shouldn't have drugged him and kidnapped him, but they make it seem like I ruined his life. I changed his life for the better. He loves me, whether he ends up dead or not. And how is this that much different from some guy taking a girl home from the club? That is maybe more consensual, but why in the world does consent even matter when any person's decisions are so malleable?
