83. INTERROGATION ROOM

~ASH

I was taken to the police station, and no one listened to me when I tried to explain. I yelled, screamed, threatened to beat them up, and cried.

But they didn't listen.

Dumped unceremoniously into a cell, my head bowed with shame and guilt and anger. I was prepared to tell the truth, but the police seemed determined to hear and see lies. So I said nothing and continued to simmer in pain.

The cell door opened, and I was led out by a skinny police who smelled like rotten food. He poked me with his baton and directed me to the investigation room.

His rotten breath and rude attitude made me want to bash his head in, and by the time I was seated before a detective in the interrogation room, I was shaking with anger.

The detective smiled, an oily, slimy thing that made my stomach turn, and I growled at him in return.

“Hello, Mr. Riverstone. I trust you're comfortable?” He asked, his uneven teeth making an appearance.

They were trying to rile me up, but I was not goi