Horns // Billie Eilish

Twenty One

Alexis

"Ackerman," a gruff voice says to get my attention but I ignore it, keeping my face buried in my hands while I sit on the cold bench. "Hey!"

I reluctantly look up, finding myself greeted by the face of the officer who put me in this shit hole earlier.

"Your attorney is here, get up," he instructs and I take a breath before doing as told.

When I first got here they took me to an interrogation room to try and get a confession out of me right off the bat, but I said I wouldn't say another word until I had legal counsel with me before crossing my arms and shutting up.

From there, they took me to another room where they made me hand over all the possessions I had on me like my phone and keys, then made me change into some ugly beige scrubs before taking my fingerprints and snapping a couple of mugshots.

Then they tossed me into a holding cell with another person, but I didn't look twice at her before taking a seat on the metal bench and doing my best to zone out and pretend this isn't happening.

I walk over to the officer and put my hands out so he can cuff my wrists together before walking me out the cell.

He walks me to yet another room and when we walk inside I see a woman dressed in a pantsuit who looks up from a file when we come in.

"Why is she cuffed?" she asks and raises a brow.

"Protocol," the officer says simply and sits me down roughly in the chair beside her. God, this guy's such a dick.

"May I have some time with my client before we begin?" she asks and he must nod or something because I hear him walk out of the room while I stare blankly at the table in front of me.

I hear her rustle some papers before she turns in her seat and I feel her looking at me.

"I didn't do it," I mumble and fiddle with my fingers anxiously.

"Which part? Because you're being charged with multiple felonies, Alexis."

I stay silent and keep looking at the table. Maybe if I just disconnect from this situation long enough I'll enter a new reality, that would be great.

"Look, I need you to be honest with me here. I'm trying to help you, and I'm going to do everything I can to do that, but I can't if you lie to me."

I process her words silently then reluctantly look up, letting my eyes meet hers for the first time. She actually looks genuine; I can see the sincerity in her eyes.

"I've looked through your academic and criminal files. No criminal record, not even a traffic violation. Graduated with honors, full ride scholarships to some of the best schools in the country, tutoring at inner city schools, volunteering as a music teacher for kids," she lists and I look down again, feeling awkward about my life being read back to me like that for some reason. "On paper you're a model citizen, that's good. This will appeal to a jury."

"I don't wanna be in front of a jury," I grumble and lean forward to rest my head on the table. "I just wanna go home."

"I'm afraid that isn't an option, you know that," she says softly and I feel her put her hand on my shoulder comfortingly, but that isn't what I want right now.

I shake her off and sit up with a huff. "This whole thing is bullshit. Since when do the cops care about people in my neighborhood getting shot anyway?" I ask bitterly.

When Luke died, there was hardly any sort of investigation. People get shot and stabbed in my neighborhood all the time and 99% of cases go nowhere; yet here I am.