Justice Served

08 | Then He Walks In

Chapter Eight
Jayce Mirella

I took the sunflower brown contacts out of my eyes when I first got to the police station after causing an unforgettable scene where I thrashed about like a child and continued to scream at the top of my lungs for hours on end without rest. I made a scene, not because I'm a childish motherfucker — which I can be, but because they began to irritate my eyes and the last thing I needed is to be a convicted felon of a crime that I didn't commit and blind.

Now my eyes looked dull and void of any emotion because that's what my natural dark brown eyes, nearly black, looked like to me. I felt exposed whenever I didn't have contacts on, my natural eyes showed my struggles and the shit that I've been through. It's my eyes that witnessed the unfair treatment of my father even after he was long gone, it's my eyes that saw my mother spiral out of control with her alcoholism, it's my eyes that saw Blues mental battle with the loss of her child.

When you look into my eyes, you see me. I hate that.

I rip my gaze away from the mirror when I've had enough looking at the person before me, I didn't have a love for the person that I saw. Releasing a breath, I lick my chapped lips and adjust the wig on my head because I could at least have my pride if nothing else. I look around the interrogation room and notice how much it looks like a jail cell. My ankle on my right foot is chained to the leg of the table that's probably cemented to the floor.

Regardless of whether or not it's cemented to the ground, the table is made out of pure steel so I can't imagine that my weak sauce ass would be capable of moving it in any way. It's dim in here with the only light source hanging above me but buzzing with a slight hum as it struggled to remain on. Blue wouldn't last a single minute in here. I feel a smile come onto my lips as I glance down at the steel table, slipping my hands onto my lap.

No matter how bad ass she appears, no matter how much confidence and authority she exudes, no matter how 'fearless' she tried to be, she'd always be Baby Blue who's afraid of the dark and paranoid about any and everything. She wouldn't go outside at night by herself because she's petrified that someone would kidnap her or kill her.

She's the type of person who will burst into a bank with a ski mask on and a fake gun to rob the place but will scream and throw the white flag when she sees the tiniest bug crawl past her. That's who Blue is, that's what made her Blue. I can't imagine Blue in here, being interrogated for hours on end, being screamed and yelled at until she eventually freaked out and confessed to something she didn't do.

I've been in this room for seven hours and this police station for ten hours in total from some time at nine p.m to now nearly seven a.m in the morning just telling from my glance at that detectives watch whenever they would come in. I expected myself to go crazy, to be exhausted, and for my stomach to be growling as it ate itself but then I begin to remember who the fuck I am.

I'm Jayce Mirella.

I've starved for days consecutively without fail and was able to power through without a hitch, I have endured much more trauma than this entire police station combined, and I sure as hell have gone through sleepless nights. If they think that I'm a fortune cookie they can snap in half with a cute little message awaiting them inside, then they're wrong. I'm that rotten fortune cookie that you find underneath your sofa after a decade and open up to find a middle finger on the inside waiting there to offend you and ruin your day. Speaking of ruining your day, that was the plan for everyone who worked here. If I'm going down, I'll make sure everyone gets hell along the way.