The Sweetest Berry

Chapter Five - Bella

I don't know what to do. I'm scared. Detective Perez gave Dad a call about Andrew's death. Dad was so surprised that 1) Andrew drinks and 2) I didn't tell him about Andrew's death. We had a heart-to-heart talk. He knew I was innocent and had nothing to do with Andrew's death but he forced me to go to the interrogation anyway. Is Dad going to ask me about the bar? If he is, then it's going to be a real problem. Because I've had a little bit of problems at the bar, which is the whole reason this all happened. The only reason I'm doing college is because of Dad, he doesn't want me to be like Mom. Just cause my mom goes in and out of rehab several times and because everyone thinks she's a psycho, it gets pinned on me. I'm probably not the least innocent person in my house, that's Donna. I'm not the most sketchy person in the house either, that's Mom. The interrogation is at 5:30 and I have enough time to rethink my life choices. I'm furious at Andrew. He slapped me, and I didn't even get to yell at him and lecture him because he died soon after. I'm sad, too. I lost a really old and close friend I'd known since preschool. I'm scared I'm going to be more depressed than I was before.

I started walking, turning on and then turning off my phone several times to check the location. I slipped because of the sewer water on the sidewalk and dropped my phone. Great. Now my phone, how it was flawless like me, is now cracked like now. I wanted to be early, but I also wanted to be tardy. Now I'm just deciding why I'm still living here. I reached a nice little building, it was cute but surprisingly, it looked nothing like a police station. I walked inside and told the front desk lady that I was here to be questioned about a death. She wore a jade green outfit, which was a similar style to Mrs. Douglass' outfit. Her hair was in a nice, tight, bun, not a single hair escaped. She looked old, in her 50s or 60s, but she walked confidently, like she owned the place. Chances are she didn't. She led me inside this really ugly, gray room, with crumbled cement flooring. The room was completely opposite from the actual building. There was a simple brown desk with two machines on top of it and two chairs on either side of the desk. The room was dim because the overhead light wasn't switched on yet. I make my way to the chair and patiently sit on the chair. The chairs were hard. They were wooden mahogany, which made it a pretty red-brown color, but it was not nearly as comfortable as I had imagined. I make an attempt to straighten my posture, which I haven't done in weeks, and try to make myself look like a proper, young lady. Suddenly, the light turns on, temporarily blinding me. I shield my eyes from the light, but as I'm still looking, a muscled, tall figure emerges from one of the dark corners. It's Detective Perez. Dad and Detective Perez were friends for a while, but I'm not particularly sure what happened between their friendship. Detective Perez would visit our house often, talking with Dad, when Mom was in rehab. I don't think he ever came when Mom was home. Now I just remember that seems odd. Detective Perez reminds me of those big, scary cops on crime shows, the ones that always make the bad guy spit out the evidence or whatever.

"Hello. You must be Bella Lilith Ave. Are you ready for your interrogation? We may begin whenever you are ready. You may leave during the middle of the interrogation. You are not forced to answer any of the questions and you may skip questions.", Detective Perez says, trying to comfortably position himself onto the chair. We both know he's used to a much more lavish, expensive chair.

Detective Perez put these weird metal rings and clasps on two of my fingers which were attached to a wire which was attached to a big machine that looked like a lie detector. He puts a glass of water between us, and slowly, and silently, moves it toward me. I stare at the ring of water left by the glass, hoping that Detective Perez breaks the silence. I give in after 15 long moments of intense long glaring and stillness.

"We can begin now.", I respond nonchalantly, hoping the interrogation ends as soon as possible.

"Were you at the bar when Andrew was unconscious?", he asks, purposefully intimidating me.