Personal Narrative: The Interrogation Room

I found the light in the interrogation room to be simultaneously too dim and annoyingly bright. The burns, scrapes, and bruises that covered me, made every move a painful one, but I wasn’t about to tell either detective that. I would put on a good face even if it killed me, which was something that had legitimate potential. “Please state your name for the record,” commanded the man on the other side of the room. Personally, I had a great number of things that I wanted to put on his record, but I had promised Max that I would behave. “Levain Ravenelle.” From the corner of my eye, I saw the other cop in the room tense up and move forward. In an instant, I was on my feet and backing away. Tears of pain flooded m vision in an instant as sharp pains shot through my entire body. It took everything in me not to collapse on the floor right there. The first man, Detective Conners, came to stand between his partner and I, his hands extended out, attempting to calm the situation. “It’s ok. He’s not going to hurt you. You …show more content…
For the last three days, that was all I kept hearing “You’re safe.”, “We just want to talk.”, “We want to understand.” But they didn’t understand and they never would. Squaring my shoulders and blinking away the tears, I looked at Det. Conners, “If you want to talk to me, then your little weasel has got to go.” The partner flared his nostrils, clearly not appreciating the comparison, but I was just being honest; the man did look like weasel. Tall, thin, with a narrow face, and a long nose. Sounds a lot like the way you’d describe a weasel. Sadly for the weasel, Det. Conners needed my cooperation much more than he needed the weasel’s presence, so he got booted. The Weasel scowled at me as he passed to the door and in return I blew him a kiss. Which, in turn, caused him to slam the door on his way out. I shrugged off Det. Conners disapproving look and gingerly sat back down, doing my best to find the position that hurt the