Alex:
The fluorescent lights in the interview room cast everything in harsh white, making shadows grow long along the walls. I sit across from the investigator, metal table between us, cuffs cold against my wrists even though they’ve shouldv'e been removed for this “friendly” chat. The air smells of stale coffee and anxiety, a bitter tang that settles in my chest.
His eyes are sharp, drilling into mine like he’s searching for something he thinks I’ve hidden. Every question is carefully calculated, slow and methodical.
“Miss Vega,” he begins, voice soft, but there’s a threat simmering beneath it. “Do you understand the gravity of what you’re facing? Homicide, obstruction of justice…these are serious charges.”
I shrug, trying to mask the tremor in my hands. Calm is a weapon, and I’ve lea
