“Miss Smith, I’m going to have to ask you a few questions.”
“Why?” My lips didn’t feel like they moved. I sat, limp, on the chair, with the heavy jacket from the police officer who drove me here—the nice one with the light blue eyes, the one who found me in my house, crumbled on the floor; he picked me up and carried me outside, and he spoke to me the entire drive to the police station, even though I never once replied.
I felt numb.
I felt empty.
However, this was the first time I spoke. I found myself looking at a shorter man with a balding head, who wore a thick jacket, long and flowing, and had a piece of paper set out in front of him on the table.
“You don’t have to worry, sweetheart,” He replied gently, though I could tell he had a tone of authority for his standing. “There just questions I have to ask you.”
“Why?”
He sat on the chair from across me, crossing his leg over the other, his light brown eyes meeting mine firmly. He leaned his elbows on the table before leaning closer to whisper, “I want to capture the sons of bitches who killed your family, and I can’t do that if you don’t answer these. Do you understand?” When I didn’t answer, he spoke again. “I know this is very traumatic for you. I know you’re just now getting over shock—I’ve spoken with the nurse. But right now is the time when I need to start my investigation; the longer we wait on this, the lesser the chance I’ll find them.”
I still didn’t answer. I just stared at him. I could tell he was once very attractive; he had sharp, angular planes on his face, and he had a thin mustache under his nose.
“And my job is to bring people to justice through law and order,” He finished, his eyes never leaving mine. “And you’re the key to this investigation, okay? Do you think you can answer these questions for me? This is an informal interrogation—you don’t have any reason to be nervous whatsoever.”
“The police don’t think I killed my family, do they?” I asked, tears blurring my vision again. I knew that may have been a possibility, no matter how cruel that sounded. I was the only one alive in the house, and I was covered in my brother’s blood.
“I’m going to be honest with you and say that I believe that you were not capable of killing your family.” He replied. “I’ve seen someone’s face when someone they love is taken from them—you’ve lost them, I can tell by the look in your eye.”
“I didn’t kill them,” I started crying again, my shoulder stiffening and lips quivering. “I would never kill my family, Sir. I-I just can’t believe this is happening…I don’t even know what…” I trailed off, shakily wiping my eyes. The full realization hasn’t hit me yet; I still felt shocked, like this entire ordeal was only a nightmare.
Was my family really dead?
“This is going to be very hard for you, but I need you to calm down Miss Smith. I need you to focus, and as soon as I ask you the questions, then you can relax.” The detective quickly wrote something on the piece of paper before asking, “Can you tell me what you were doing at the mall?”
