Disclaimer:Twilight and its inclusive material is copyright to Stephenie Meyer. Original creation, including but not limited to plot and characters, is copyright to the respective authors of each story. No copyright infringement is intended.
AN: This story was intended to be part of the A Picture Is Worth A Thousand Words: Firework (Mini) Edition, but apparently I got the date to submit by crossed, so it sat on my computer too long. (I could have sworn I had until June 24th, so I was waiting until almost the last day to submit as it gives me severe angst to submit early and have them sitting around in someone's inbox unposted). Anyway, with that being said... here's the story, this may someday be continued, but I haven't decided.
A Normal Reaction
I stare across the table in determined silence, refusing to reply as the cop tries to stare me down.
It doesn't work, mostly because I'd been prepared for this outcome.
"Come on, Bella – I can call you Bella right – help me out here. What made you decide to kill seven people?"
They weren't people; they were vampires... He wouldn't believe me even if I told him the truth.
It's also the sixth time he's asked if it's alright to call me Bella, I didn't answer the state cop the first five times he asked, so I don't know why he'd expect me to answer this time. His questions are starting to get repetitive and stale.
I shrug.
"Did the fireworks get out of hand? Is that what happened here?"
It would be so easy to say yes, except there are so many problems with using that as an option, not the least of which being that I'd been in this lock-box for hours – remaining silent the entire time.
If I'd been planning to go the manslaughter route, I'd have probably have needed to start with my dad, Charlie. But by the time I'd been arrested, three days after I'd shot off over two thousand dollars worth of high-grade fireworks directly at their house and successfully caused a massive explosion, the local newspaper had already informed me of my worst fear.
Seven charred remains had been found in the house.
Remains, not ash.
All the research I'd done after finding out what they were from Jacob had told me they should have turned to ash.
Which meant they had fled and left people or bodies behind.
I don't want to be free if they still exist.
I'm safer behind bars.
Which is why I continue to stare blankly through the state cop, ignoring him completely.
After a moment, when I don't even respond to this offered olive branch, the state cop lets out an exasperated sigh.
I barely suppress my grim smile.