I waited impatiently for the officers to reenter the small room where I had been confined for over an hour. The steady ticking of the clock above the door marked the time with an almost mocking precision, each tick echoing louder in the silence. I rested my cuffed arms on the cold, metal table in front of me, the cuffs biting slightly into my wrists as I shifted. The room was stark, its small square shape accentuated by the harsh fluorescent light that flickered occasionally, casting erratic shadows on the gray, concrete walls.
The walls themselves were bare except for the large mirror behind me, which I knew was a two-way window. A faint smell of disinfectant lingered in the air, mingling with the faint scent of sweat and metal, a sharp reminder of the countless others who had been interrogated here before me. In the top left corner of the room, a small camera blinked with a red light, its lens trained on me, recording my every move. I tapped my nails on the table, the sound barely audible over the oppressive silence, and breathed a sigh of relief as the door finally swung open.
The officer entered first, his footsteps heavy on the tiled floor. He was dressed in a worn brown leather jacket, creased and weathered as if it had seen as much action as the man wearing it. His hair was a dark bronze, cut short, but long enough to be slightly tousled, giving him a rough, unpolished look. He was followed by another man, who was slightly taller, with short-cropped black hair. He wore a crisp, dark blue suit that contrasted sharply with his partner's more casual attire. His shoes, polished to a shine, clicked against the floor as he walked. Both men carried the scent of tobacco, the smell clinging to their clothes like a lingering shadow. I smirked, leaning back in my chair, resting one foot on a table leg, and tilting the chair slightly, challenging the balance.
"Are either of you going to tell me what this is about?" I inquired, my voice steady despite the tension that gripped the room.
The bronze-haired man chuckled, a low, almost cynical sound, as he took a seat in the metal chair opposite me. The chair scraped loudly against the floor as he pulled it closer to the table. He reached into the pocket of his jacket and pulled out a small, battered tape recorder. With deliberate care, he placed it on the table in front of him, aligning it perfectly with the edge. The other man, the one in the suit, remained standing. He leaned casually against the wall to the left, just beneath the watchful eye of the camera, his arms crossed over his chest. His expression was inscrutable, but his eyes were sharp, taking in every detail of the room—and of me.
I raised an eyebrow at his posture, considering whether to ask to leave. But honestly, this was the first time I'd had this much space and freedom since my sentencing. The room was small, but it was mine, at least for now, and it was a far cry from the tiny cell I shared with a much bigger, much less attractive inmate.
"I'll be recording this conversation," said the man with the crinkled brown jacket. His voice was deep, and authoritative, carrying the weight of someone who had conducted countless interrogations. I shrugged. It made no difference to me. I was going to rot in this place, and nothing we talked about was going to change that.
"So, for the record, my name is Detective Edward Mason, here with my partner, Detective Jasper Whitlock. Across from us is Miss Bella Swan, currently held here in Biloxi County Jail."
I couldn't help but chuckle. Formalities were always amusing, a prelude to the same old routine. They always said the same thing, and I could recite the script by heart. I bit my lip, waiting for Detective Edward Mason to continue. His name suited him, I had to admit. There was a handsome, almost chiseled quality to his face, his brown eyes sharp and focused. He was, without a doubt, a beautiful man, despite the lines of fatigue etched around his eyes.
"The date is April 22nd, 1921."
The tape recorder clicked to life, the sound filling the room with its mechanical whirring, a subtle, constant reminder that everything I said was being preserved for the record.
"Now, Miss Swan, I assume you want to know why we've asked to speak with you today," Mason continued, his gaze never wavering from mine. I quirked an eyebrow, keeping my expression neutral.
"I don't particularly care," I replied coolly, glancing at the man leaning against the wall. "There's nothing I can tell you that isn't already in that file right there."
Jasper Whitlock, the man in the suit, let out a soft chuckle, pushing himself off the wall and approaching the table with a slow, deliberate stride. The air shifted slightly with his movement, the scent of his cologne—something clean, with a hint of spice—cutting through the room's sterile atmosphere.
"I assume you know Alice Brandon, yes?" Whitlock's voice was smooth, almost casual, but there was an edge to it that made my heart skip a beat. My eyes widened involuntarily.
A smirk slipped onto Mason's face, his lips curving just enough to reveal a hint of satisfaction.
"I'll take that as a yes, and I assume you want to know what we've found out, correct?" Mason's tone was almost mocking as if he already knew how this conversation was going to play out. I stared into his brown eyes, doing my best to mask the anger, confusion, and hurt that churned within me.
Alice had to be dead. It was the only explanation. I clenched my fists, the metal cuffs clinking softly, as I dropped my chair to the floor with a loud bang. The noise startled Mason, who leaned back slightly in his chair, his expression guarded.
"What do you know?" I demanded, my voice low but intense, my eyes boring into his. Mason exchanged a glance with Whitlock, who was now pacing slowly, his polished shoes clicking rhythmically on the floor. He paused to light a cigarette, the sharp scent of smoke soon mingling with the other smells in the room. He offered one to Mason, who shook his head in refusal.
"You first." Mason's voice was calm, and measured, as he slid a folder across the table toward me. The folder was thick, the edges worn, as if it had been handled many times before. He flipped it open, and a cascade of photographs spilled out across the metal surface. My eyes darted to the floor, finding sudden interest in the dull, stained tiles beneath my feet. But Mason wasn't letting me escape that easily. He reached out and spread the photos over the table, each one more gruesome than the last. Bodies, broken and bloody, some with bites, others with deep bruising. The images blurred together, a nightmarish collage of death and violence. I felt bile rising in my throat, the knot in my stomach tightening painfully.
"I don't know anything… about that," I whispered, swallowing hard as I leaned over the table, my voice barely audible. The faces in those photos were burned into my brain, their lifeless eyes staring back at me even when I closed mine. And then there was her face—her beautiful, bright smile—that haunted me more than any of the others.
"Sure you do." Mason's voice was a cold, hard contrast to my trembling words. "We have witnesses of your involvement. One person was very eager to speak with us. She was very vocal, I'm afraid, Miss Swan, which does not bode well for you. So either you talk, or something worse is going to happen."
I gulped, my throat dry, and dragged my eyes slowly over to the file. My nails dug painfully into the skin of my hands, leaving half-moon imprints. The weight of the situation was pressing down on me, and the room suddenly felt much smaller, the walls closer.
"What is it you want to know?" My voice was resigned, almost defeated, as I met Mason's gaze once more.
Mason smiled, a slow, almost predatory grin, as his partner finally took a seat beside him. Whitlock leaned forward, resting his elbows on the table, his eyes locked onto mine, listening intently.
"Start from the beginning."
Short but sweet.
I'm hoping you all like this idea.
It'll be mostly flashbacks, the intertwining scenes of her interrogation, as all the pieces are put together. Her past with Alice, they're volatile but electric time together that lead to a string of murders and Bella's arrest.
Review for more!