18. Cops

The cops were in civil, but the way they dressed was like from a movie, in casual suits. The female officer had a white blouse instead of a shirt, both no jewelry on them, both having really obvious bulges where their guns should be.

"Kennith Howard?" The female officer stood up, the male officer, and the director followed suit.

"Yes." I said and took her outstretched hand.

She gave me a once-over and nodded.

"You can decide not to talk to us; you are underage and have the right to have an adult with you. If you want to talk to us alone, it is possible as well. Naturally, you can also call a lawyer anytime. We can also stop talking at any time. This is an informal interview." She motioned for me to sit on one of the two confronting couches.

"We can talk alone." I didn't want the director to hear more than he should.

She nodded and turned to the director. He was a feeble man with glasses on, quickly hurrying away after getting his cue.

Both cops sat across from me, leaning forward.

"What was your relationship to Emilia Henrietta Devin?" This first name, I hadn't known of.

"At parties, I 'read' people's past. Henrietta heard about it and wanted my help in remembering her past. We have known each other for a year, having met up to two times a week during my history lesson."

"Did she believe you had this ability?" The male officer narrowed his eyes. 

"Yes." I nodded and leaned back, crossing my arms.

"Do you think you have this ability?" The female officer intercepted.

"Yes." I said slowly. I won't lie to the police, not when I am a suspect.

There was a short silence, the male officer smirking mockingly at me.

"How would you describe your relationship with her?" The female officer continued.

"Acquaintances." 

"Were you two romantically or physically involved?"

"No."

Both officers shared a look, and I knew that something was wrong. Fucked up and wrong.

"Did you two exchange numbers?" She asked.

"No." I felt the air stilling, my bad feeling intensifying.

The female officer took a paper out of a laptop bag, which I hadn't even noticed was beside her. She slid it to me over the couch table with what I would call slow-motion speed.

This was a printed-out chat record. At the top stood my name, saved as 'Kennith', and the messages seemed to be between me and a girl.

K 22:34: [Where are you?]

K 22:37: [WHERE ARE YOU???]

K 22:39: [YOU FUCKING WHORE, ANSWER ME]

H 22:40 [Leave me alone! Please!]

K 22:40 [I AM IN FRONT OF YOUR DOOR, OPEN UP]

H 22:41 [Leave me alone, or I tell my brother!]

K 22:42 [DID YOU JUST THREATEN ME?]

K 22:42 [TELL HIM AND I KILL YOU BOTH]

"What…." I looked up at them and saw the officer pointing under my name on the top. 

"Is this your number?" She tapped on the paper, and the sound seemed to be awfully loud in the silent room.

I read the numbers; it was a strange combination of my birthdate; I had it since I was a child. It was my fucking number. 

"How is this even possible?" I read through the numbers, and my hands turned cold, my heart hammering in my chest.

Have I lost it?

Am I her killer?

Dual personalities?

Vampire?

Werewolf?

I suddenly wasn't even sure if it was my phone number, each number seeming strangely foreign now that I went through it repeatedly.

"She was your first love, wasn't she? But she lost her interest; you were just a passionate kid. It happens. Sometimes people just snap. But I can tell you from experience that living with this guilt can destroy you slowly; it will consume you until nothing is left. We have enough cases of murderers turning to alcohol or drugs, not being able to live with it, even killing themselves." The female officer's voice turned soothing and understanding.

However, my attention wasn't on her; instead, it was on the first four numbers. The area code, the fucking prefix each phone number had.

"Is this a joke?" My voice sharpened as I looked at the female officer.

"What are you doing here? Is this some sick fucking joke you are playing with me?"

"Calm down." The male officer moved his hand in the direction of his gun, and I laughed out loud.

"What? You gonna shoot me cause I cursed in the presence of a lady?" I also leaned forward.

"Are you some second-hand cops that got their first case after leaving the academy? You are too dumb to even check the area code? You see the last few numbers and decide it had been me because my name is saved in there?"

I felt the air around me thinning, my pulse racing, my muscles taunting. I was so angry that I wanted to kick the desk at them.

"You come into my school, knowing that everyone will talk; bring me these chat records." I took it and crumbled it before throwing it at the man, who stood up threateningly at my action.

"Built up the shitty pressure for me to what? Break down and confess a crime I haven't committed, only because you are unable to read a shitty phone number?"

My voice raised involuntarily as I stood up as well.

"IS THAT FUCKING POLICE WORK? ARE YOU KIDDING ME?"

The male officer came to my side with handcuffs ready. He flipped me around like a damn kite, and I landed on the couch with my stomach down. My hands were pulled back, and he put handcuffs on me.

"Insult of a police officer, you are arrested." I heard the handcuffs clicking, felt the cold metal on my skin, and unconsciously flexed my hands against the restraint, hurting myself, but I was so fucking mad, I didn't even feel it.

"Wait a bit." The female police officer meanwhile got the crumbled paper and put it out straight.

"What are you..." The male officer turned back to her.

"The numbers… the area-code is in the wrong order..." She mumbled, looking at her colleague.