The Silver Scar

Chapter 6: The Interogation Room

Chapter 6: The Interogation Room

The handcuffs were constricting against my hands, but I guess that's what they were meant to do. I never pictured I would be the one to experience them. I had run for two months and for what? I am exactly where I didn't want to be. But they were going to imprison Garrett for a crime he didn't commit. That was not going to happen. I have kept my promise. I will always keep my promise.

The man in the uniform harshly tugged me into a room. The guard pulled me over towards the metal chair and roughly pushed me down into it.

I gave him a sickly sweet smile, biting my tongue. That asshole could at least of been a little less brash.

"Sit there," The guard jerked my cuffed my hands. Without another look in my direction the burly officer walked out of the room, leaving me alone with my thoughts.

I stared at the blank wall. My mind wandered. Where was Garrett right now? Where had they been keeping him? Will I be able to see him?

I didn't know. I didn't know anything. It's like one moment I think I know what I want and what I was going to do, and then the next moment I am doing the complete opposite. I don't know what is wrong with me. Maybe this is all apart of the greater scheme of me losing my freaking mind.

It all makes sense. Maybe after all those years of being beaten and abused made me snap, and I never came back from it. Maybe this is the way I am now. Maybe I really am different. The event changed me no doubt, I was no longer the girl whom I used to be, but I always thought that a part of me was still intact. That Drake didn't take everything away from me. Maybe I was wrong.

My head hung low, so low that if I really wanted to I could lay my head on the steel table. But I didn't. I knew that I was tired and putting my head on that table would result in me falling asleep.

The interrogation room wouldn't be the best place to fall asleep, especially when I just confessed to murder. Yeah, that wouldn't be a good idea.

I wondered if Kathy had read anything from my journal yet. I wonder if she even saw it. Maybe she didn't realize that it was there. I felt slight panic, realizing anyone could've taken it off of the table. Anyone. Why should I even care? I am in an interrogation room. I have already confessed to killing Garrett-- What else could I have possibly-- Oh God.

No. No. No.

Garrett cannot find out. He can't know everything that I did. He can't.

Suddenly, the metal door opens and in walks a skinny looking man with blondish-greyish hair. He had crease lines all over his face and I wondered if that was from age or from doing this job for however many years.

The detective didn't say anything. All emotion was wiped away from his face. After a moment of looking at him, he looked back at me. My head snapped down towards the table, and I lightly used my right hand to rub the part of my skin under my other wrist. These handcuffs hurt and made my skin itch like crazy.

"Jenna Weston," The detective mumbled, opening up my file. I finally looked up when the man sat right across from me. "I'm Detective Bradford." His eyes scanned the pages of my file, and I felt the bile slowly rising in my throat, making it a little harder for me to breathe. I didn't know what was in there. Maybe they got my fingerprints off the murder weapon? No it has only been thirty minutes. Cops work fast, but not that fast. What if it is-- "Age 25. Former foster child to-- Well look at that, Drake Mota. What a coincidence." He said condescendingly.

"You don't really believe in coincidences do you detective?" I replied sarcastically. He narrowed his eyes, a taunting smirk etched on his old features.