Stay.
The sound of the journalists high heels clicked and echoed as the they hit the floor. She was nervous.
I could have pictured the conversation that lead her to this point; “It would be the brake in your career!” “you’re always saying how fearless you are, now’s your chance to prove it”.
I wonder how much convincing it took to get her here.
Talking to the 'dangerous monster’ the one who’s tied to the chair.
The journalist wore a blouse. it was green.
My shirt was torn.
She rode here in a taxi.
I was dragged in.
She sat down across from me.
I was already tied and handcuffed.
She asked her first question.
“Did you have an relation to the victim”
She was the most important person in my life,
she was the one I would turn to,
she was the one I’d give my life for,
she was the only thing I cared about.
“No comment”.
The journalist blinked at me.
She pulled out a notepad.
There was a silence in the room, you could hear a pin drop,
you could feel the hatred.
“I see you are going to be incorporative” The journalist commented.
Good job, sound angry, mask your fear and act like I’m not the only chance you have to get your writing printed.
“I see You’re going to be passive aggressive”
She tapped her high heeled foot against the ground.
It’s almost funny,
She’s sitting here.
I’m tied up across from her.
She’s trapped here with me until I decided to talk.
No one is free.
No one except Kate.
The journalist cleared her throat.
“Did you have any relation to the victim- Kate Dashmen”
I winced at her name.
“N-No”
I’m not a good liar.
“How did you first meet her?”
She’s a good journalist.
“Ever been to Oxford on a Sunday?” I asked
“How is this relevant to the case?” she stated, neglecting to answer.
“…Because that’s where I met her. On a busy street. Kate wasn’t like the others…”
“How so?” Asked the journalist, not looking up from her constant scribbling.
“Katie was the only one who dropped the lighter”
The scribbling stopped.
The lighter.
“She…The… Was this the same lighter?” The journalist asks
The very same, the one thats heavy with guilt, the one she used to light her cigarettes, the one that sits in an evidence bag. The one used to take her life.
“Yes”.
There was yet another silence. The scratch of pen on paper. More silence.
“Were you close to the victim”
Yes.
“No comment”
“Did you have a motive?”
…did I have a reason to kill her?
I’ve played it out in my head a hundred times.
She had smiled, she meant no harm.
It wasn’t her fault.
She did’t want to leave.
'All things come to an end’ she had said.
She did’t want to leave.
She did’t want to leave.
She did’t wa-
“No comment”
The journalist was trapped in the visitors room with her noncompliant killer.
I was trapped in the chair with my guilt.
Kate was trapped in the room with the fire.
Kate left.
Kate left.
Kate did’t want to leave…
She had told me about her new job-
A great opportunity, in far off New York!
A good job in a real publishing office, and isn’t it great?
She did’t want to leave me.
She did’t want to stay.
She would’ve gone to New York.
A good job in a real publishing office, and isn’t it great?
Kate will never leave that room.
Kate will stay there forever.
Kate will never leave me now, I had thought as I locked the door and took out the lighter.
Kate isn’t here now.
Kate left me.
Kate is free.
Kate is still in that room.
“Do you intend to answer any of my questions?”
“No comment”
There goes her big break. She will never get her story, her chance for a good job in a real publishing office.
The journalist sighed and started to stand up.
“Don’t leave."