Thanks to everyone who reviewed! I'm actually glad people like this.
I am very meh about this chapter, mostly because I feel it's inaccurate.
I am really unfamiliar with how this shit works, so just don't expect accuracy lol.
Without any further ado, here's Chapter 1!
James was so scared he couldn't even think. There was literally nothing racing through his mind; he was that glacial with fear. He was pulled out of class that morning by a cop and placed here in this detention center. He knew they knew. He was going to rot and die in jail. The door flung open, startling the brunette sitting across the door. An officer with a thick burly mustache sat down in the seat across from James, an autopsy file in his hands.
"Morning, Officer," James greeted.
"Good morning, Mr. Diamond. I'm Officer Wells. I've brought you in for questioning."
"Q-questioning? For what?"
"A murder, son. You're suspected for killing Dak Zevon, a fellow classmate."
Officer Wells looked up from the papers and directly at James, which made him all sorts of uncomfortable.
"I'm familiar with him, yes. He's my friend."
The cop raised his eyebrows and leaned back.
"And you knew about this murder, correct?"
James gulped and nodded, looking down at his hands that were folded in front of him.
"Well, he was killed at approximately 10:38 pm," Officer Wells explained in a gruff voice, flipping through the pages. "And it seems that you had called him at 10:35, just three minutes before his death. Taking this information into consideration, it only makes sense that you two were planning to meet up, correct?"
"I called him about homework," James lied. "I-I was asking him about math homework, but he told me that he w-wasn't currently at home."
The policeman squinted at James, as if trying to detect if he was lying or not. James shifted his weight on the metal chair as he stared at the door. He needed to get out before he passed out.
"But he was killed right outside his house."
"Y-yeah he said he was almost home and h-he'd call me back," James stammered out, a bead of sweat trickling down his face. It was getting harder to breathe.
"His parents were home when this happened, and they said that they were home all night. Dak had left the house after picking up his phone."
"I-I don't know, I—maybe he needed fresh air, I—"
James began to hyperventilate, gripping the armrests on the chair tightly until his knuckles turned white. Tears were threatening to spill as the police stared at him with slight concern, only adding more pressure onto James' shoulders.
The officer sighed and leaned forward, resting his elbows on the table that divided him and James' shaking body.
"James, I'm giving you a chance to explain what happened, so if you're hiding anything—"
"I'm not hiding anything!" James suddenly cried, no longer capable of choking back his sobs. "Dak was my best friend, Officer. I loved him more than anything in the world! Don't sit here and tell me that I killed him. What possible motive would I have had?"
He lifted his hands up to cup his face, not even bothering to keep quiet. He heard the door squeak open and click shut, leaving him alone in the room again. A few minutes later, Officer Wells returned into the room.
"Alright, could you talk a bit about how Dak interacted with peers?"
James nodded, biting his lip.
"He was a kind person; charming, charismatic, funny. Anyway, he was gay, and faced a lot of homophobia, especially from fellow athletes. He almost got kicked off of the wrestling team and football team for liking boys, but technically, the school wasn't allowed to. Just because he got to stay on, it didn't mean his teammates took it well. Long story short, he dealt with a lot of hate."
"So there are people who possibly have motives to kill Dak?"
"Yeah," James said under his breath. "In particular Jett Stetson. He hated Dak."
Under the table, he clutched his stomach as it began to turn. A sickening feeling started to grow. First he was lying about not killing Dak. Now he's trying to shift the murder onto someone else? James grimaced as he stared down at the table, flinching at the sound of the police scribbling down notes of what he said about Jett, the football team, and wrestling team.
"You can go, Mr. Diamond. Thanks for your cooperation. Officer Burns will be accompanying you back home."
James speedily got out of his seat, wiping his nose and face. He didn't say anything more, or make eye contact with the stout man who was previously interrogating him.
"Not so fast kid," the cop said, holding his hand out like a stop sign. "Now I'm giving you one last chance to confess. If you confess to the crime now, there will be no additional consequences. Think about this carefully."
He looked at James intently, staring him down. James quickly shook his head. Officer Wells sighed and side-stepped, letting the teenager pass. James practically ran out of there and followed Officer Burns to the police car. The entire car ride back to his home was awkward. He sat in the back seat, where all the criminals sat after their arrest, and Officer Burns kept giving James the stink-eye in the mirror, as if James was a serial killer or something. The only thing he could do was to look outside and pretend he wasn't crying and wondering when this torture was going to end. After what felt like hours, they arrived at the Diamond estate. The police rolled down the car window and reached to press the doorbell. The large metal gate creaked open, allowing the cop car to drive onto the driveway and near the porch of the actual mansion.
The mansion was pure white with gold detailing on the door and windows. It looked regal and grand, like someone important lived there. It wasn't entirely untrue though considering his mother, Brooke Diamond, was the founder of the successful cosmetic line, Diamond Cosmetics, widely used by celebrities all over the world. His father, Richard Diamond, was a patent lawyer who averaged a $1k salary per hour, and worked 50-70 hours a week. That being said, they both weren't home very often. James was actually a little surprised they were home.
The car came to a stop, and Officer Burns turned off the engine. He got out of the driver's seat and opened the rear door, assisting James out of the car. James followed the policeman into the already opened entrance and closed the heavy door behind them. His parents were sitting on the white leather couch, sipping on tea. They didn't look all that happy when they gestured for the two to sit down across from them. James quickly wiped away a few tears before taking a seat.
"Can someone please explain what is going on?" Brooke asked, setting down her ceramic cup of tea with a tiny clink.
"Please," his father added.
"Well, Mr. and Mrs. Diamond, your son James was brought into questioning under suspicion of killing Dak Zevon."
Richard coughed on his tea and put it down on the table as fast as he could.
"Killing Dak? What—when did this happen?"
"Last night at around 10:40. He was hit by a car and killed immediately by impact—"
"I'm sorry, I fail to understand how this has anything to do with my son," Brooke interrupted, sounding impatient. "There must be some mistake, if you're accusing James of murdering anybody. Dak Zevon is my son's friend. This is ridiculous. What's your 'evidence' anyhow?"
"Our indecisive evidence is that your son called Dak merely three minutes before his death, which don't you think is suspicious? So I've come to ask you two a few questions."
"You're basing this off of a phone call?"
Officer Burns turned to James.
"I need to talk to your parents alone, young man."
"Okay…"
James stood up from his seat and walked up the stairs and into his room, only hearing the low hums and murmurs of the adults conversing. He pushed his bedroom door open and fell onto his bed, feeling overwhelmed. He finally let the crying he had held back in front of his parents out, drenching his pillow with his tears. He felt numb and dizzy to the point where it felt like he wasn't even himself anymore, watching his life outside of his body. Reality seemed more like an insane nightmare he just couldn't wake up from; it was just that hard to fathom. James never felt this before, having waves of guilt continuously hitting him in the stomach, creating a constant nauseating feeling. He had thrown up several times in the night and early morning, but nothing seemed to rid himself of this nasty sensation. He hasn't slept, eaten, or stopped crying ever since the incident, except when he went to the police station.
After a while, there was a knock on his door and he lifted his heavy head up, squinting through his tears. The door opened anyway and his parents walked in with furious faces.
"Did you do it?" Richard asked, voice low and threatening.
"No," James tried, but his voice cracked. He resorted to shaking his head.
"How could you even let this happen?" his mother finally snapped, pulling James' shoulder so he was sitting upright and facing her. "Do you know what would happen if this story ever gets out? That my son was accused of killing his friend?"
James swallowed thickly and stared at his mother, dumbfounded. That was what she was worried about?
"I lose business; your dad loses business; God damn it, James David Diamond, are you even paying attention?"
Truth was he wasn't. On top of his immense guilt and despondency, he was beyond furious. He was feeling so many intense emotions at the moment he couldn't decide on how to react without giving himself a heart attack. His own parents weren't concerned about how their son was doing after losing his best friend; no, they were only worried about how this would affect them. Of course.
"And how are we supposed to show our faces in church, James?" Brooke continued on. "We're going to get kicked out and it'll be all your—"
Richard held a hand out and placed it on his seething wife's shoulder, shutting her up.
"That's enough, honey, he gets it. Yelling at him isn't going to fix things, so let's try to make sure this story remains covered, alright? We can fix things before James ruins them."
Brooke takes a deep breath, closing her heavily-lined eyes, and reopens them. She sends James a stern look and walks out of the room, heels clacking as they come in contact with the floor. Richard looked weary and disappointed as he left the room. James stomped over to his door and slammed it. He wanted to just sleep forever, and run away from reality, although he knew he couldn't. He kicked over his chair in anger and began to sob. His knees buckled and he slid down along the wall, ending up squatting in the corner of his room as he cried into his hands and knees. He had never felt so alone before. His parents didn't give a damn about him, his brother was exiled from the house for a long list of reasons, and his only friend was dead because of him.
So I hope it wasn't too unbelievable...
I'm introducing Kendall in the next chapter, so I think that will go better.
In the process of writing it actually! :)
I love you guys, and reviews are appreciated and motivating hehe. :D
I'm excited for Kendall~~~~~.