I leaned back in the chair, unsure where to put my arms due to a lack of arm rests. Well, comfortable ones. What had I expected for an interrogation room? Something other than two shining examples of crap, waiting room style furniture: all metal and rubbery fake fern green leather. And a wood table that I was half tempted to bang my head on to relieve the boredom that was gnawing at the back of my head. The only thing uglier would have been rotted fruit brown. At least there was something. Some spark of color in the otherwise slate colored room.
I crossed my legs to keep from bouncing my foot on the ground. Having to go to the bathroom hurt in a way that was more annoying than painful. The twinge that comes from a straining bladder. At least, it was not as bad as what I had gotten used to experiencing over the past few months.
"Hey, whoever is listening- I have to pee!" I announced as I stared straight up at the video camera monitoring my every movement from the rear left corner of the room.
Finally, proof of someone paying attention, I thought as I heard the door unlock. In stepped a tall, lean figured man wearing a long sleeved, button down azure shirt and khaki colored slacks. He looked like he should have been about the same age as my father. He moved slowly, however, favoring his left leg.
"Are you to be my escort to the bathroom because, honestly, I am not comfortable peeing in front of guys, or anyone... really..." I stated, earning myself a completely befuddled stare. "I guess no one was listening after all. I have to pee."
He sighed out of what I guessed to be exasperation as he rolled his eyes. He did not say anything as he motioned for me to follow him. We stopped only long enough for him to talk to the two guards standing outside of the interrogation room.
We walked down the hall, and he stopped outside the women's restroom.
"Thanks," I muttered as he leaned against the wall next to the door.
I stepped into the small bathroom, frowning at the lack of a window. There was something unnerving about a lack of natural light. I moved on from the fact, and after a moment that resulted in a much relieved bladder, I stood in front of the mirror washing my hands. My lower lids were a faint shade of purple, and I wondered how I had managed to become so pale.
"I know you can hear me," I murmured softly. "You have kept track of everything else I have done. What is going to stop you from watching me here? I am going to get out of here. Nothing you do will stop that from happening."
I stood there, watching my reflection, hoping there would be a sign. Nothing. Just my pallid features highlighted by poor lighting, and my hair weighed down by the severe need of a shampoo. I lifted a hand and traced over the reflection of the scar on my left temple. My first war wound in all of what had occurred.
Before my mind drifted too far into the memory of the cause of the mark, I drifted out of the bathroom and nodded to the officer. We once more walked in silence towards the interrogation room, and I shoved my hands in my back pockets to keep from fidgeting.
"Take a seat, please," he told me, breaking his silence. I did as I was politely commanded to and watched him. His eyes kept meeting mine and then he'd blink. I would have laughed if it wouldn't have gotten me into further trouble. "Ms. Addams-"
"Would you mind calling me Delia? I hear Ms. Addams and I think of Morticia or Wednesday," I stated.
"All right. Delia. You doing all right? Do you need anything other-"
"I understand that you are trying to put me at ease, but Officer-"
"Lucas," he informed me.
I nodded. "Officer Lucas, I get that you are following procedure, but honestly, this is just as exhausting for me as it is for you. Can we just move on? I am pretty sure you have somewhere else you need to be."
He quirked a brow at me. "And with that I am fairly sure that you have seen one too many police procedural shows." He leaned back in his own chair, across the table from me.
"And I know you have the blade that was taken from me when I was arrested," I retorted. "You may think that scares me. May think that it is the piece of evidence that is going to get me locked away for a very long time, but there is a lot that you do not know. And what you do not know is what scares me. Honestly, being locked away would be a vacation. I would love being free of everything, but I doubt will happen until I am long dead."
I watched his expression. His eyes blinked in rapid succession as he attempted to meet my gaze. There was a look of curiosity on his face before he sighed.
"Here is an idea. You tell me everything, possibly sign a confession, and I'll see what I can do about getting you your vacation," he offered.
I looked at him for a moment before shrugging. "Tell me, Officer Lucas, what do you believe in? Are you Christian? Atheist? Neo-Pagan? Secular Humanist?"
"Agnostic," he stated, his brow quirked in curiosity. "Why do you ask?"
"Wanting to determine where you stand. What I'm going to tell you is a little hard to believe. I just need you to listen to my story with an open mind, and consider that maybe, there's just a spark of truth in what I'm telling you. That is if you can't believe me entirely."
He leaned back in his chair, his eyelids fluttering like butterfly wings. I could see by the look on his face that he was more than curious. He was intrigued. A spark of hope, finally.
"You've got my attention. Please, proceed," he told me.
I leaned back against the material of the chair and took a deep breath. "In the beginning, God created the heavens and the earth..."