“Detective…” murmurs Jaisy, interrupting her interrogator mid-spiel. “Detective, do we really have to go over this again? I confessed, I did it, okay? I killed him.”
He raises a hand, as if to stop her, but her words bubble over any protests he could plausibly put forth. Jaisy affects a bloodthirsty grin, malicious and malevolent.
“I took his gun, and I shot him. Six times. You have the evidence - the fingerprints, and the fact that I was covered in blood - his blood - it was enough to arrest me, no? Enough for the judge too. This case is closed… Just like my father’s coffin.
“Were you a colleague of his, sir? Did you work alongside the great Detective Letterman?”
The man blanches, then straightens his face. It’s imperative not to give away your emotions to a criminal.
“Miss Letterman… That’s enough. You know full well why we’re here. A motive - a real motive - was never established.”
“I stand by my testimony. He grounded me, and I got mad, and then it just happened.”
“I don’t think that justifies a murder as brutal as yours, Miss Letterman. You’re already incarcerated, there’s no point in concealing your reasoning. Please stop hiding behind weak excuses, and-”
“You’re the one who’s weak, Detective. I agree, there’s no point in hiding my reasoning. And I didn’t. Now, can we please jus-”
“What the fuck!?” yells Jaisy, as the ceiling falls in. “What the fuck is going on, where are you-”
“Stay here! Stay here, or I swear, you’ll get another life sentence!” The detective sprints off, paton shoes slapping linoleum as more explosions sound in the distance, causing the whole compound to quake.
“Come back, come back!” screeches Jaisy. The walls shake and dust clouds rise, causing her to cover up her mouth as she ages forty years, covered in grey, and now perhaps she’ll never get anywhere, stuck in limbo forever, the worst punishment - she curls up into a ball, assaulted by the wails of sirens and the hollers of klaxons.
This isn’t supposed to happen, it’s a fucking top-secret facility, oh fuck oh fuck - they’ve found me! she thinks hysterically.
The door, apparently blocked by debris, crashes open. A man stands there, his features hard to discern, but definitely wearing prison garb, and -
Is that a fucking gun?
and stretching out a hand towards her, but she just stares at him, dumbfounded.
“Come on!” he bellows, lunging over the wreckage of the interrogation room and gripping her wrist roughly, as he drags her, kicking and screaming, away from prison. He picks her up, easily, and lumbers through the hallways as though he knows where he’s going.
“Stop!” comes a yell from behind them.
Her captor doesn’t turn. A blast resounds.
Another explosion?, thinks Jaisy, before she blacks out.