LXXXVII

"What is your name?" He said again, frustration clear in his voice.
She clenched her hands that were bound in handcuffs.
"Eighty seven." She said through gritted teeth. Again.
In a swift second the detective slammed his hands down on the desk.
"We are trying to help you dammit! If you tell us your name we'll find your family, we can take you home. Isn't that what you want?"
"There is no need to get desperate enough to lie. The only reason you want my name is because you have already run my face through your database and no matches have come up. You've looked through all the missing child cases that matches up with my age and appearance, yet my fingerprints don't match. You can't stand not knowing who I am because it is your job to know everything. You want to know the name of the girl who set that building filled with dead bodies on fire. Put a name to the face of a monster. But you cannot. Eighty seven is the name they gave me, it is my only name. So ask the question we both know you want the answer to." The young girl said monotonously.
The air was thick with silence. The detective watched her with a blank face, trying to not show any emotion. She stared right back and it stunned him that a girl as young as she could seem to have complete control of every aspect in the interrogation room even when she was the one handcuffed.
"Did you kill them?" He asked.
She leaned forward, never breaking eye contact.
"Yes."