Death Never Looked So Beautiful
Four
I arise the next morning with slight confusion. At first I am unaware of where I am- why I am where I am, but as everything comes back to me I find myself looking around cautiously. I would prefer not to have a repeat of last night.
It seems as soon as my feet hit the ground, after much struggle mentally, there is a knock at the hotel room door. With more caution than I care to admit, I move toward the door, looking through the peephole. Upon seeing the badge of a detective, I open the door slowly. Two people stand before me, one female, the other an outragously tall male. Both show me their badges as the woman introduces them to me.
“Mr. Sola? I'm Detective Kenson, and this is Detective Cerulli. I was wondering if we could come in?” With a slight nod, I move aside allowing them entrance to the room. Detective Kenson leads me to the couch to talk while her partner walks around the room, my eyes following him curiously.
“I know what happened last night is frightening, but I need you to tell me everything you know.” My eyes turn to her as my mind races. Hints of annoyance and fright come forward because of her words.
“I already gave my statement to the officer last night.” My words are whispered, barely-there, but I can tell Detective Cerulli had heard them from across the room by the look upon his handsome face.
“Yes, I know, but we need to hear what happened from you,” she pushes, placing- what I assume is supposed to be- a comforting hand on my knee. I move farther away from her, making sure her hand falls off my leg as I do so.
I watch Detective Cerulli as he stares out the window, snow slowly cascading to Earth, while I relive everything that happened yesterday once again. Detective Kenson takes notes in a pad I hadn't realized she had with her, and Detective Cerulli acts as though he isn't paying a speck of attention to me. Detective Kenson asks questions about me, my past, people in my life, while Detective Cerulli stands at the window completely detached. It isn't until Detective Kenson's phone rings, and she leaves the room to answer that he turns his eyes on me.
“You were the lone survivor of the Matler case two years ago.” His voice isn't as deep as I had initially assumed based on his appearance. He seems more interested in the case than I had thought, as well. Him bringing up that horrific event does not cause me to want to speak with him, however, and I think he realizes this. Looking back out at the falling snow he speaks again, “Joseph Matler had a large following. Many people believe you framed him, and I have a feeling that the body of that prostitute is a warning to you.” His eyes fall back on me as my face pales. He doesn't have to say what I know he is thinking. I used to be just like her, and I should have died back then. Joseph Matler is behind bars, but that doesn't mean this isn't a gift from his fan club.
“Be honest with us, and all will be taken care of justly. Lies aren't going to help you.” He leaves the room before I have a chance to respond. Bringing back memories my therapist has helped me through, but it seems now that I really need to handle my emotions I cannot. Tears stream down my face as sobs rock my body- my arms covering my head in means to block out the images of years passed.
I am a walking disaster.
I should have died,
and now I pay the price.
It seems as soon as my feet hit the ground, after much struggle mentally, there is a knock at the hotel room door. With more caution than I care to admit, I move toward the door, looking through the peephole. Upon seeing the badge of a detective, I open the door slowly. Two people stand before me, one female, the other an outragously tall male. Both show me their badges as the woman introduces them to me.
“Mr. Sola? I'm Detective Kenson, and this is Detective Cerulli. I was wondering if we could come in?” With a slight nod, I move aside allowing them entrance to the room. Detective Kenson leads me to the couch to talk while her partner walks around the room, my eyes following him curiously.
“I know what happened last night is frightening, but I need you to tell me everything you know.” My eyes turn to her as my mind races. Hints of annoyance and fright come forward because of her words.
“I already gave my statement to the officer last night.” My words are whispered, barely-there, but I can tell Detective Cerulli had heard them from across the room by the look upon his handsome face.
“Yes, I know, but we need to hear what happened from you,” she pushes, placing- what I assume is supposed to be- a comforting hand on my knee. I move farther away from her, making sure her hand falls off my leg as I do so.
I watch Detective Cerulli as he stares out the window, snow slowly cascading to Earth, while I relive everything that happened yesterday once again. Detective Kenson takes notes in a pad I hadn't realized she had with her, and Detective Cerulli acts as though he isn't paying a speck of attention to me. Detective Kenson asks questions about me, my past, people in my life, while Detective Cerulli stands at the window completely detached. It isn't until Detective Kenson's phone rings, and she leaves the room to answer that he turns his eyes on me.
“You were the lone survivor of the Matler case two years ago.” His voice isn't as deep as I had initially assumed based on his appearance. He seems more interested in the case than I had thought, as well. Him bringing up that horrific event does not cause me to want to speak with him, however, and I think he realizes this. Looking back out at the falling snow he speaks again, “Joseph Matler had a large following. Many people believe you framed him, and I have a feeling that the body of that prostitute is a warning to you.” His eyes fall back on me as my face pales. He doesn't have to say what I know he is thinking. I used to be just like her, and I should have died back then. Joseph Matler is behind bars, but that doesn't mean this isn't a gift from his fan club.
“Be honest with us, and all will be taken care of justly. Lies aren't going to help you.” He leaves the room before I have a chance to respond. Bringing back memories my therapist has helped me through, but it seems now that I really need to handle my emotions I cannot. Tears stream down my face as sobs rock my body- my arms covering my head in means to block out the images of years passed.
I am a walking disaster.
I should have died,
and now I pay the price.
♠ ♠ ♠
this has taken a bit longer to get out than i had meant! im so sorry about that but hopefully this helps...