I Kept His Journal

1

The walls were a dark grey. The man in a uniform paced the wall that held a mirror. There were three officers on the other side watching this mad man in handcuffs. Their comments were whispered, only heard by them. A single camera installed in the upper left corner of the room watched over the interrogation, the red ring of lights casting a glow that only reached a few inches before being overtaken by the harsh glare of the bright white lights in the ceiling. The metal table in the center of the room gave the lights something to bounce off of, blinding someone if they ended up in the correct position. On that table sat a pair of folded hands bound by metal cuffs. The man the hands belonged to was sitting straight up in his metal chair, not shifting or showing any signs of discomfort. In fact, he had a hint of a smile dusting his face. His eyes seemed to gleam, with no trace of the tragedies he had committed only hours before. His orange jumpsuit was made sharper by the white light that pierced it.

Just outside the room, there were officers with tears in their eyes. Some comforting their partners, some sitting silently in the corner staring at the ground, some who took the rest of the day off and were on their way back to their place of residence to curl up in the arms of a lover or pet. No officer in Jameson had seen anything like this. None of them ever expected it to happen to their little town. There was an officer at the front desk, one of the best on the force, who had resorted to grueling paperwork in order to get his mind off of the tragedy. Even the K-9's sensed something was dreadfully wrong, including the ones who didn't go on the scene. Luckily for the officers in the building, they had only seen less than a quarter of the aftermath.

Cries could be heard throughout the town. Cries of mothers, fathers, and siblings. The yellow caution tape suspended around the large brick building was a deathly reminder of what had just occurred. Someone said they had known something was off that day, but they were drowned out by the wails of friends and loved ones. News vans littered the street. Microphones were shoved in the faces of grieving people, some of which were pushed away and their owners glared at for being so disrespectful in this time. Families gathered together to hug each other, prayers were lifted to the skies, some by people who had never prayed before. As the last ambulance was loaded, the crowd slowly began to disperse, but the tension and grief hung in the air around that building for days on end.

~*~

"Do you regret it?"

"Absolutely not."

"So you think you did the right thing?"

"I did what I needed to do in order to get my point across. There is nothing but death and shame in a life of popularity. Nothing good comes from it. They needed to see that. So I showed them. Simple."

"I can understand the popular crowd. But what about that one boy who was not friends with them? Did he mean anything to you?"

"I feel bad for him. I didn't mean for him to be hurt. I am sorry about that."

"Are you actually sorry, or do you know that's what I want to hear."

The man in the orange jumpsuit sat back in his chair, and drew his eyebrows together.

"Can't it be both?"