imperfect scars|stavo acosta

twentyone; under lock & key

I walk to the office and stand by the reception.

"Hi, I've been called to the principals office?" I look down at Alice, the receptionist. She gives me a slight nod before taking the white phone in front of her and raising it to her ear. She presses a number and waits a couple seconds before speaking.

"Mia Roberts is here," she says and waits for a reply on the other end. "will do."

Alice hangs up the phone and motions me to the principal's door. I knock on the door and open it up. I see my Principal, Mr. Malakoff sitting on his black rollable seat and Sheriff Miguel Acosta leaning his left hand on the desk in front of him.

I shut the door behind me and take a seat in front of the desk.

"Good afternoon, Miss Roberts," Malakoff greets. "Do you know why you're here?"

"Nope, but I'm guessing it has something to do with my brother." I shrug.

Sheriff Acosta nods, "exactly."

"Before we start, I'd like to apologise for your loss." Mr Malakoff says and I give him a small smile.

"You rushed off last night so we couldn't give you a proper questioning. But, before I start asking about brother, I want to ask about these photos." Sheriff Acosta starts and flicks through a number of papers that lie on the desk. He hands a sheet to me, and they had another in each of their hands. They obviously don't look at the pictures in order for me not to become uncomfortable.

It's nothing they haven't seen before. It's nothing they haven't seen before. It's nothing they haven't seen before.

I can't help but repeat.

Mr. Malakoff was a married man with 6 children, before he came out the closet. Sheriff Acosta deals with dead bodies everyday, some turn up naked, some not. This obviously don't excuse them for possibly looking at them though.

"Do you know the consequences of sexting? You're a minor, this is illegal and there are hefty penalties that come forth with explicit pictures. There's a high chance you might be bullied now that these are out—"

"Yes, I know. Hundreds of these papers came out of my locker. How'd they get in there? Obviously from the Lakewood Slasher that you're constantly failing to arrest. However, how'd he make copies of it? Shouldn't they be locked up in an evidence box? If you properly did your job—" I argue.

"Miss Roberts, you will not talk to the Sheriff like this. Especially, when he's trying to help you in a terrible situation." Mr Malakoff slams his hand on the wooden desk.

I look down, tears threatening to fall out of my eyes. I close my eyes for a couple seconds and let out a small breath, before breathing back in and back out.

"I'm sorry," I open my eyes. "I'm sorry, you're doing the best you can and it's hard when you barely know when he's going to make the next move. These photos of me are photoshopped. Some freak spent hours of their times sitting in front of a computer screen and put my face on girls' body."

There is a picture that was on the paper that wasn't photoshopped, but they don't need to know that. If they think that it's photoshopped then hopefully they won't address the one that looks the most real.

"Is there proof for your statement?" Sheriff asks and I nod.

"Uh, I didn't take that." I say.

"We can't just take your word for it. In order to keep this away from the press and from you receiving penalties, you need to show me proof," He continues and I nod. "Where did he get the photos of your face?"