Terror (Part 1 of the Valeska Series)

Time for an Interrogation

✮ a c c a l i a  POV✮

Hours after the phone call with Jim, I am seated in a bland, grey room with a one-way mirror to my right, a small door and a table in front of me, and a handful of filing cabinets to my left. The bar where the handcuffs are meant to be linked to in order to prevent me leaving is bare, and so are my wrists. Everyone in this station knows me, and they know that I won't leave when things get ugly - or when the odds are against me like they are now. They all know that I wouldn't kill a man in cold blood, well, they believe that fact anyway. Truthfully, I have no clue what I am capable of after tonight.

Harvey Bullock, Sarah Essen, Jim and Barbara are on the other side of the mirror, talking about who knows what. They're probably deciding my fate right now. Hopefully, they have taken into account that it was self-defense, and that I had no choice to do what I did. Staring down at my blood stained hands, I can feel myself almost reliving the incident repeatedly. I clench my hands tightly, my nails digging themselves into the flesh of my palms. Pain instantly erupts in my right hand due to the gash, but I find that it helps to calm me and stop me from trembling as badly as I am.

Then, I hear a voice calling out and my head snaps in the direction of the door. I can't believe he's here.

"Where is she?" the ginger exclaims. "Where's Accalia? I want to see her!"

"Who are you?" an officer asks, apprehension clear in their voice. Alvarez. "What are you to Accalia?"

"I'm her best friend. Please. Let me see her."

"Alright." Footsteps come up the stairs and stop in front of the door. "You can have as long as it takes for Detective Gordon to prepare himself to interrogate his daughter."

"Thank you so much, officer."

The door opens and the first thing I see is the red hair of my best friend, the second being his worried, forest green eyes. I stand from my seat and, only seconds later, I am engulfed in his arms and begin to tremble once again, but this time without pause. I hear Alvarez chuckle lightly before he shuts the door, and that's when Jerome pulls back and looks at me with dark eyes. Mine widen at the look because I know what's coming, but it can't happen here. He can't show his psychotic side in front of the police.

"Cali, are you hurt?" Jerome demands, his voice deep and rage filled. "I swear to god, if you're hurt, I'm going to lose it."

I shake my head, gripping his hands as they begin to run over my body in search of a wound. "Hey. I'm alright, ginger. I promise."

"Don't you lie to me. Don't you dare lie to me." His gaze directs its anger at me. "You better not be lying to me, missy."

I lower my voice. "You can't lose it here, Jerome. I'll tell you everything later. Alright? Can you wait until then?"

"Who's here to see me lose it? I'm not worried."

"Three detectives are on the other side of that glass, and so is Barbara. While she may not mind, Harvey, Essen and James might mind just a little - and James will go protective father on me."

"Good point." Jerome lets out a sigh and relaxes, his eyes lightening and worry returning to his gaze. He pulls me into another hug and squeezes me tightly as I reciprocate it. "I was so worried. I came as soon as I could. I would have been here sooner but my mother had some things for me to do."

My grip tightens on his jacket and I tense. "She didn't want anything strenuous done, did she?"

"Nothing too bad."

His warmth seeps into my chilled skin and I shiver, pressing myself more against him in an attempt to become warmer. A chuckle causes his chest to vibrate and he pulls away for a moment, causing me to shiver at the sudden chill that sweeps my body. Something warm lands on my shoulders and I look up to find Jerome without a jacket. He helps me slide my arms into the sleeves, and then I nestle into the warmth, smiling up at the kind, caring and psychotic ginger. Jerome smiles and pulls me in for another hug, but this one is cut short.

Someone knocks on the door, and it opens to reveal a stone-faced Jim Gordon. I know this face; he's in detective mode, and it sends chills down my spine. Jerome's eyes narrow slightly at the sight of my foster father, but he turns to me with a smile and hugs me goodbye. I tell him we'll meet up later and he agrees, walking out of the interrogation room and leaving me alone with a detective whose eyes show no emotion but hard determination to get the truth.

He closes the door and motions for me to take a seat. So, he's not quite prepared to talk yet, but he's acting the part. I sit back down on the now ice-cold chair and Jim sits in front of me, placing a manilla folder and a voice recorder on the table. I know that the folder contains photos from the murder; the dead man, the knife, my switchblade, the blood that seemed to have no end. The red light is glowing brilliantly and the vivacious makes my stomach twist.

"State your name and age," Jim instructs, his voice flat and devoid of emotion.

I shift in my seat and nod. "Accalia Gordon. 17."

"Miss Gordon, we received a phone call from you at 2:18 this morning stating that an intruder had broken into your apartment and that you had killed him. Is this correct?"

"Yes, detective. That is correct."

"Could you please tell me more about what happened this morning? That is, if it is not too difficult for you to talk about. I do understand if it's too much at this time."

I shake my head and clear my throat. "No it's fine, Detective Gordon."

"Very well. Please go right ahead."

"I woke up to a loud ringing in my ears, but I'm sure that has nothing to do with the intruder. Anyway, as you do when you wake abruptly from a dream, I scanned the room and my eyes landed on a dark figure making his way out of my room. My guess is that he came into the wrong room. I don't know what came over me, but I got out of bed and followed him out into the main room - after grabbing my switchblade for protection of course. I don't go anywhere without it. Anyway, I had lost sight of him, but I quickly caught sight of him picking the lock to my adoptive mother's bedroom."

I watch as Jim's eyes harden at this new information. His fiancee could have been hurt if I hadn't of stepped in.

"I acted without caring for my own safety by charging at him and shoving him to the ground. When he stood, and the moonlight hit his face, I didn't recognize him, but his eyes darkened in rage as if he knew me. He launched himself at me, and that's when I saw the knife. I knew I'd made the right decision to get my switchblade. I fought him the best I could, and I managed to hit the right spot to cause his arm to go limp, but it wasn't the right arm. He swiped at me and landed a blow."

I trace the gash on my face and wince lightly at the sting of pain. Jim just about breaks his knuckles he is clenching them so tight.

"He went to get me again, but I caught the blade. Stupid decision really." I stare at my sliced open palm. "It cut deep, but it was better than getting stabbed. I slammed his wrist against the wall or door frame and he dropped the knife. That short amount of time allowed me to get out my switchblade, but I was too slow getting a hold on it because of my bloody hand. He took it from me and landed a couple of gashes on me, but not enough to worry me."

Jim winces.

"He went to get me again but I grabbed his wrist and found his pressure point, forcing him to drop my switchblade. I slammed his wrist again in a futile hope to break it, but I didn't apply enough force. I dove for my switchblade right then and there. I needed a weapon, and that was the closest one. I got it, and then he pulled me back, flipping me over." My eyes sting and I bury my nails into my palms once again. "He.... He launched himself at me, not noticing I was holding my switchblade, and....impaled himself on it. I....I pulled the blade out of him and he rolled himself off me. That was the one decent thing he did - not crush me with his dead weight. How sad."

Jim's eyes are alight with fury and anger. He hates himself for not being there when he said he would be.

"I got as far away from him as I could, but it wasn't that far. He stared straight into my eyes as he died. I wonder what he saw there. Did he see a cold-blooded murder? A psychopath who killed him for fun? I wouldn't be surprised at either." I grit my teeth to hold back the words threatening to come out. "I called you, Detective Gordon, without a second thought. I'm not sure if anyone else would have come if I'd of called them. Maybe Detective Bullock, but that's it."

"Thank you for your time, Miss Gordon," Jim says in a tight voice. "You may go. Detective Bullock will show you out."

I smile slightly and stand as he turns off the voice recorder. "It's alright, James."

"How are you really doing, Cali?"

"I'm fine. Probably still in shock. It will hit me soon enough."

The door opens to reveal Harvey. He's like the uncle I never had, and he's the one I tell almost everything to - with Barbara being tied with him in second place of course. I don't even have to name who number one is anymore. Everyone knows who I trust the most in this world, and it's not an adult. Harvey grins at me and I walk over to him, pausing when Jim speaks.

"That friend who came here earlier," Jim begins. "Can he be trusted to look after you for a few days while we get Barbara's place cleaned up?"

My eyes widen in shock at the question. "Ginger can be trusted with more than you think, James. He's my best friend, and nothing's ever going to change that."

"'Ginger'? Is that a code name or something?" Harvey jokes, nudging me lightly as Jim cracks a smile at his partner's antics. "A nickname perhaps?"

"Of course it is. It's just like 'Cat' is Selina's nickname."

Walking out of the interrogation room, I clutch Jerome's jacket around my smaller frame and inhale his strange scent. Beside me, Harvey chuckles at my actions and motions to the familiar suitcase sitting beside Jim's desk. Someone packed me some clothes from the penthouse, and I'm pretty sure that it was neither Jim or Harvey. I look up to see Barbara speaking to a dark haired woman, a flirtatious smile on the blonde's face. I merely shake my head at her.

Leaving Harvey at the police station, I grab the suitcase and head outside, hailing a taxi to take me to the circus. I get a strange look, but it disappears when I tell the driver that I am staying with a friend who lives with the circus. Thirty minutes and an annoying amount of money later, I reach Jerome's trailer. Knocking on the door, it opens almost instantly to reveal my favourite ginger.

"Hope I didn't keep you waiting too long."