Love and Hate

Ariana aggressively tugs at the chain that is shackled to the metal hook in the centre of the heavy-duty, steel table. Attached to the set of cuffs that has her wrists bound. "You don't know him like I do," she seethes through gritted teeth. Black blotchy mascara smudges her cheeks, streaking down to meet with her jaw. Ariana Blackwell and detective Samuels face off in a fraught stare down. To Ariana, he is just another face. The stainless-steel box of an interrogation room, the bolted down metal chairs and table, everything a cold silver. The white fluorescent light that glares down from above, the opaque, one-way mirror behind the detective brims with ranked policemen, observing possibly one of the instigators to the crime that shook the town of Braidwood. Ariana is all to familiar with the procedure, but not one of this magnitude both in crime and severity. Throughout her life, her brushes with the law, she never feared. But today. She is ragged by terror, the talon's of dread clawing into her gut. She is determined to make sure that she's the only one that knows of her fear. Detective Samuels slants forward, he fixes the collar of his white, long-sleeved shirt and props his elbows on the edge of the table, his eyes simmering with suspicion. He tents his overly long fingers above the investigation folder. "Then why don't you tell me about him?" Ariana shoves her back into the chair, rattling the chain, she throws her gaze away.  She sprawls her fingers, exposing her jagged, cheaply coated nails. "Is this really necessary?" A frown strikes his forehead. "You attacked my partner. So yes, I do find it necessary." Ariana huffs and grumbles a litany of swearwords beneath her breath. The detective loudly clears his throat and says, "Why don't you tell me of the time, you, Erin Lane, Tom Priscellie, Sophia Richhart, Alister King, Erhue Igbo and Akio Patel." Ariana's brows draw together, she shakes her head as if trying to disperse the fog from her mind. "What?" An ominous smile twitches in the corner of his lips. "When did all of it begin?" "When Alister King came into all of lives," she blurts, but then decides on a verbal retreat. Her mind leading her on a trail of reminiscence. "Actually...before then, round about then." The detective tilts closer with visible intrigue. "When?" She looks up to meet his eyes. "The start of senior year."