Lightning without Thunder

The Moon

The interrogation room appears strange. The walls are made of grey bricks, and the floor and ceiling are concrete. The only things that break the monotony of the walls are a wooden door and a giant mirror. The only furniture in the room is a wooden table and three wooden chairs. They appear to be out of place, but I believe there was once iron furniture in here, but it was replaced before I arrived. 

Similarly, the door lock is not made of metal. Or at least not magnetic. I try to open my mind to see if there are any steel objects outside the room, but it feels like something is blocking my senses and obscuring them. 

I look at myself in the mirror. My hair is a tangled mess, and my eyes are red from crying. I was now only wearing a beige overall after the police confiscated my hoodie and pants as "evidence." It makes me feel like a prisoner. But in all fairness, that is what I am. 

The door opens, and two people walk inside. One of them is my arresting officer, carrying a cardboard box and a yellow file, while the other is the last person I want to see right now. My mom. 

Mom looks terrible as usual; her hair is a mess, her clothes are stained, and her eyes are red. I retch at the strong odour of alcohol emanating from her. She looks at me with the same cold eyes and curls her lip in disgust. 

"What the fuck did you do this time?" 

I ignore the question. "Mom, why are you here?" 

She scoffs. "Interrogating a minor without the presence of their guardian appears to be illegal. Believe me, I don't want to be here anymore than you do. But, unlike you, I don't deserve any of this. So let us get this over with." 

When my mother comes to sit next to me, the pungent smell of alcohol enters my nostrils, and I try to suppress the urge to vomit. 

The officer ignores her and looks at me. "Do you prefer to call your own lawyer, or do you want the government to provide one for you?" 

Before I can respond, Mom interrupts me. "She would like to relinquish the right to a lawyer." 

"Mom, you can't do that. I want a lawyer!" I yell. 

She looks at me. "Sweetie, lawyers exist to defend the innocent. You're guilty. You do not need one." 

My jaw drops. "You don't even know what I supposedly did!" 

Mom scoffs. "I don't need to know. I know you. You are a little miscreant. Of course, you are guilty of whatever crime they say you committed. But honestly, I hope it is something that lock you up for life. Then I'll never have to see the problem that is you again." 

The officer interrupts her. "She looks over to me. Marissa, we have noted that you are deaf. Do you require an interpreter for sign language?" 

I shake my head. "I don't speak sign language. I can lipread, though." 

The officer smiles. "Very well, then. Let's start." 

She takes the last available chair across from me. Unlike my mother's eyes, hers appear kind and worried. As if she's sorry for me. I can't decide whether that's better or worse. 

She continues. "This morning, we obtained a search warrant for a motel room. During the search, we found the following items. 

She opens the box to reveal my phone, wrapped in a plastic bag. I can still see the crack in the screen from when I dropped it near the rose bush. 

"Your phone," she says. "Our lab examined the contents, and it contains video footage of you committing multiple crimes, including shooting someone. It also tested positive for blood and your fingerprints.