The Interrogation

I’m sitting in the interrogation room. My ears still ringing from when the bank exploded. Dollar bills fell from the sky like specks of snow. I can remember the panic, people everywhere dropping to their knees hiding their heads in their hands. I reflect on the heist, the adrenaline of it all, while two police officers stare me down like I’m their prey.

“We know what you did. Give us details. Who were you with? How much money did you take? Remember our deal!” the police officer demanded. Slamming his fist down hard onto the cold table causing droplets of sweat to fall and land on the floor. My breathing slowed as I tried to focus on relaxing.The handcuffs itched at my wrists, pulled so tight to cut off any possible blood circulation to my hands. I bite my tongue to prevent any significant information from being revealed. The promise of less jail time seems very unlikely, especially when you consider how big my role was in all of this. However, the man in uniform seems very adamant about keeping his word. My body tenses, I feel as though the security cameras overhead were staring into my soul. I avoid eye contact in case he reads my expression.

“How about we start small, how’d you disable the security cameras?” he questioned, as his posture seemed to relax. I had to choose my words carefully. They know I’ve committed a crime but I need to prevent myself from revealing any extra information.
“No disabling, just covering the lens, and then yanking out a few wires.” I exclaimed.
“Seriously?”
“Oh I’m deadly serious,” I mock with a big grin sprawled across my face. The officer confides in his partner for a minute. I know I’ve caught him off guard as he begins to stammer through his next question. “What time did you arrive?” he interrogated.
“3:00pm on the dot,” I barked back, but not letting any anger get to me.
“Was there physical contact with any civilians?” the officer yelled, you could see his emotions getting the better of him.
“No sir, we keep our hands to ourselves around here.”
He began rapid firing questions, and I had to keep up with a cocky attitude to keep him on his toes. His patience was wearing thin, his temper seemed very short and I was not helping the case.

“Any witnesses?” every question asked, the officer grew more and more irritated with me.
“None that saw our faces,” I chuckle.
“Getaway driver?”
“Robert.” A pit of acid sinks in my stomach. Flustered, I focus on not letting my mask slip. I would never intentionally reveal the name of someone. I feel dizzy, I let my own ego cause me to slip up. Keeping my face still, I try to hide my mistake. Please let him think I’m bluffing.
“Last name?”
Panicking, I have to think of a fake name. Without hesitation “Smith.” I’m sweating, heart beating out of my chest so hard it's going to hit the floor. His face shifts. He smirks.
“Take her away."

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