My heart skips a beat. I realize that I am sweating. I am screwed for sure.
The officer is watching me like a hawk, ready to point a gun at me if I make a single move. Maybe I am overthinking again. I didn't see a gun when he entered the room. Then, he is wearing a jacket. Who knows what he is hiding inside the jacket? The strands on his head are distracting me again.
The devil clicks his tongue. "Have I told you that you are an idiot? You should have listened to me."
If I had listened to you, I would have pulled that knife out. In that case, nothing could prevent me from spending my youth in prison. It's not like my current life is anything less than a cage, but I don't want to use the communal bathroom in the prison or share my room with someone else. That's my limit. Otherwise, prison doesn't sound like a bad place. You get free food and there's no rent. You have access to the library too.
Devil: "Why are you looking forward to going to prison for a crime that you didn't commit?"
I blink my eyes. Right, I didn't commit this crime. Then, why should I be afraid? I squint at the nearly bald officer. Lazy fuckers! They nearly got me. They don't want to investigate and tie this crime to me because I am a perfect person to get accused of murdering a random man in a street. Why not? I am emotionally unstable because I am an unsuccessful crime novelist who is on her periods.
"Office, since you have gone through my laptop, you must have seen my drafts too. Is it strange that a crime novelist is researching murders? The only people I plan to kill are the people in my novels." I sneer at him. "Besides that, have you found my fingerprints on the knife? I don't think so. Lastly, I do not understand how can my menstrual problems lead me to commit a murder? If periods could make any woman commit a crime, how many women would be spending their time in prison?"
Devil chimes in, "He's not wrong. You feel like killing him right now."
Sometimes, this devil has nothing logical to say. Then, was it ever supposed to be logical? It's a fucking voice in my head.
The officer stares at me with an expressionless face. He's trying hard not to show me any emotion. I am watching him.
Even a single twitch of the eyebrow is not missed by me. I hate manipulative people the most. This officer is one of them who wouldn't mind throwing an innocent person in the prison because they want to take the easy way. I don't have any faith left in the law.
"Miss Solomon." The corner of his lips tilts up. His eyes become a little warm. So, he's going to approach me like a friend now. At least, they aren't pulling the good cop and bad cop game.
"I understand that it's been hard for you. You have been struggling for a long time. You must have felt frustrated and tired. We often make mistakes when we are going through difficult times."
Devil: "Man, can you not be more obvious?"
"It's okay." He reaches for my hand. "We didn't catch any other person in the nearest surveillance camera other than you. Miss Solomon, you can tell me everything."
I pull back my hand before he could hold it. There's no point talking sense to this man. I may be poor, but human rights still exist in this world. "I want a lawyer."
The friendly look on his face vanishes like it was never there in the first place. The nearly bald officer mutters something inaudible under his breath and gets up.
He glares at me once and then, I see him take long strides out of the room. I lean back against the chair. This silence is not uncomfortable. I know that they can't put this murder on me yet. I close my eyes, feeling exhausted.
"Miss Solomon."
Dressed in a grey suit with a black shirt, a tall woman in her early thirties is standing in front of me. Her dark wavy hair reaches only her shoulders. In her sharp and narrow eyes, I could see a provoking glint. She smiles and says, "You can leave now."
So, the word 'Lawyer' scares them, huh? I scoff at her. I can't wait to get out of this place. I don't know what kind of chaos is waiting for me at home. Does my mother know? They didn't let me take my phone to the interrogation room. I was treated like a criminal because I contacted the police like a normal person.
"Miss Solomon." She calls out for me before I get out of the room. I turn around to look at her with a frown and wait for her to speak. After a little pause, she adds, "You cannot leave the city before this case is resolved. You will be called for further investigations. I hope that you cooperate with us next time."
In other words, she's saying that they are gathering evidence against me.
"I cooperated as much as I could." I stare hard at her. "Rather than wasting time on interrogating someone who was just a random passerby, it is better if you look for the actual murderer."
"Believe me, Miss Solomon. We are doing our job." The woman smirks at me, "Regardless of that, Thank you for reminding us again."
I want to argue; however, there's no point. I shrug my shoulders and dismiss the idea. When it comes to some people who have decided upon an idea whether it's a lie or truth, it is useless. I can argue with these people for the rest of my life; I am sure that I won't win in the end. I walk out of the interrogation room. I get my phone and wallet, and then, I leave the station.
A deluge of cold and furious rain hits my face. I look down at my clothes. The rain will wash away the blood before I reach home.
I put my hands in my hoodie pockets and lower my head. I haven't checked the phone; I am sure that my mother had called me several times. The interrogation that I faced at the police station is nothing compared to the interrogation that I will face at my home.
The cold rain feels good for some reasons. I don't want to go back home for a while. I see an empty bench under a tree. I sit down and wait for the rain to stop.
Where did my life go wrong?
A cold drop of rainwater falls into my eye and a warm drop of water rolls out. I let out a chuckle. I know for sure that I cannot blame anyone in my life. I don't have that kind of luxury.
The rain is slowing down. I should leave now. But I can't find the energy to get up. I don't have the energy to answer my mother's questions.
I feel something soft licking my toes. Startled, I pull my legs up. I blink my eyes. The calico cat meows at me. I am stumped. "Sorry, I don't speak your language."
The cat doesn't leave. Instead, it jumps on the bench. I hold my breath. I am not good with animals or humans. It stares at me with its green eyes and I stare back at it.
I don't want to start a staring game with a cat.
"Are you someone's lost pet?" I mumble and scrutinize the cat to see if it has a collar. I don't see anything. Is it abandoned? It could be a stray cat; however, the cat is too beautiful to be a stray.
"Meow." The cat raises its little head as if it's expecting me to take her to my home.
"Thanks a lot for honouring me with your presence. You are quite beautiful; I can't take you with me because I can't buy cat food for a royal being like you. I hope that someone takes you as a pet. Don't be disheartened. You have a good chance. Cats are more famous than dogs these days. People can love beautiful things easily, " I tell my calico cat. "Have a good day ahead."
After saying those words to a clever cat who is looking for a sponsor, I walk toward my home. Then, I stop and turn around to look at the cat. It's already gone. I laugh and keep walking toward my home. It's time to face my mother's wrath.