My Misha

Chapter 1

November 9th, 1987

"So, Tell us again what happened in order, Marceline. I want you to go over all the details of this tragedy, again." The detective asked me as I sat in the cold metal chair. Black table in front of me with laid out pictures, all of that place.

"I already told you what happened." I retorted. I don't want to go all over this again. My mind feels like it's going crazy having to relive all those memories. My body trembles even against my attempts to calm it.

"Says here on your file that Savior Academy diagnosed you to be a pathological liar. Signed by your parents in confirmation. So, we just want to make sure we got all the real details." He says condescendingly. I wish I could splash the coffee from his brown mug on the table onto his face.

"I'm innocent, everything I did was because of everything they fucking put us through!" I yell, I hate when they mention my files. Those things are all lies. They put me into that category so they had more control. Control over me and the others.

"So what you and Misha Kubo did was justified? All of it? Even that darn fire Marceline?" He presses, leaning in now as his eyes are daring me. I hitch a breath at that name.

"Don't bring him up." I declare.

His eyebrows perked up, "It'd be easier to believe you if you both were here to say the story verbatim. But you're the only one who made it out. So once again, retell the story. Real and honest details." Detective Jones interrogates as my chest feels heavy and tight.

Then the door opens with a slam, causing me to jump. A pair of heels start clacking their way into the room. The walls are black with a dim light illuminating the table where I'm seated, it makes me feel small and shameful. Like the spotlight only casts down on me, putting me in the highlight of embarrassment.

"Would you stop intimidating her? This is all stuff she went through not that long ago, Jones. Pressure her and she won't talk." The lady detective scolds. He rolls his eyes out of annoyance. I don't calm down despite her attempts to defend me.

This whole good cop, bad cop thing makes me all the more nervous. I just want to be out of this situation.

The woman gestures for him to get out of the seat, he obliges. She sits down now in front of me. She looks at me with cold blue icy eyes, as her brunette hair is up in a bun with a pencil intertwined in it. She has another file in her hand that she places down in front of her. Looking through it, I see various different pages of my police report.

"Marceline Hart?" She questions and I nod, slowly. Impatient and uncomfortable with the way the air in this place bites at my skin. I'm in nothing but my ripped plaid brown skirt and black blouse. Burned and ragged. I stare down, looking at the way I grasp my skirt tightly in my hold. My chestnut brown skin was bruised all over. I'm dirty with mud, I feel out of place.

"I'm detective Harris, I know you want to be out of here and we have contacted your parents, since they're the only family you have on record. I know you're 18 but I bet they would've wanted to know about your whereabouts since the news is flooded with endless articles." She explains.

M̶y̶ ̶p̶a̶r̶e̶n̶t̶s̶?̶.̶.̶

I haven't talked to them since they signed me away to that godforsaken place. My lip twitches and Detective Harris studies me closely. "But for you to leave here Marceline, we need to know what happened. Give us what we need and you can get out." She professes.

M̶y̶ b̶r̶e̶a̶t̶h̶i̶n̶g̶ i̶s̶ e̶r̶r̶a̶t̶i̶c̶. I̶ d̶o̶n̶'t̶ k̶n̶o̶w̶ h̶o̶w̶ m̶a̶n̶y̶ t̶i̶m̶e̶s̶ I̶ m̶u̶s̶t̶ t̶e̶l̶l̶ t̶h̶i̶s̶ o̶v̶e̶r̶ a̶g̶a̶i̶n̶. I̶ h̶a̶t̶e̶ t̶h̶i̶s̶, I̶ h̶a̶t̶e̶ i̶t̶ a̶l̶l̶. I̶ h̶a̶t̶e̶ t̶h̶a̶t̶ t̶h̶e̶y̶ k̶e̶e̶p̶ m̶e̶n̶t̶i̶o̶n̶i̶n̶g̶ h̶i̶m̶.

"Last time, after this I can leave.." I declare more than I ask.

"Yup, after this, you can leave." She agrees.

I inhale, my throat feels like it's about to suffocate me with the way it tightens. I hesitate, what if she's just saying that because she knows that's exactly what I want to hear. But when I look up at her, she's nodding at me, encouraging me to go ahead with my explanation.

This seems like my only way out.

"Okay," I breathe. " It all began back in the winter of January, 1987..."

___

[AUTHOR NOTE]

My Misha paperback coming soon. Stay notified by my socials! Naiwriting on tiktok and nai.writing on instagram! Please support me 🩷

Feel free to vote 🗳️