Love, Amara

There is always something strange about interrogation rooms. The wooden table that reminds you of the cafeteria at primary school. The cold, metal chair which has housed many horrible people. The scratchy, sand-paper felt blanket. The soft buzzing of the lights above us. The room-temperature plastic water bottle they give victims as a courtesy.

Amara’s shoulder stings under the new bandage they wrapped around her bicep. She runs her fingers through her long, newly brushed hair as the endless sound of pencil scribbling on paper fills the silent room.

Amara lifts the water bottle up to her mouth and takes a big gulp, swallowing it with visible difficulty.

“So, then he attacked you with the glass cup and…what happened next?” Detective Leony asks softly, leaning back in his chair opposite of Amara with his notebook sitting in his lap, pencil in hand. His forehead crinkles in quiet focus.

Amara sniffs through her nose and picks at the plastic label wrapping around half-empty water bottle. “Uhm…I fell to the ground…he got on top of me and hit me….right here-” She points to the left side of her face where a bright bruise is showing “- and…I just kicked him in the stomach…and I rolled away…but as I was getting up…he grabbed my leg and I fell against the lamp....I’m sorry I don’t really remember…” Amara adjusts awkwardly in her seat, sounding ashamed and embarrassed.

Detective Leony is writing in his notebook when Amara glances up at him. He’s nodding his head slowly, humming every so often so Amara knows he’s listening.

“And then…what happened?” The older uniformed man asks, scratching his salt and pepper beard, finally looking up and waiting for Amara.

Amara looks back down at the water bottle label and chips away at the sticky part on the inside. Her blonde hair falls off one shoulder but she doesn’t care to move it away. Her shoulders are hunched forward and her hands tightly grasped around the plastic water bottle, so much so that it creaks when she speaks.

“And then…I ran to the kitchen…and..he caught up with me…and..” Amara goes quiet and still. Her breathing becomes deeper and her shoulders shudder slightly.

“And…? Is that when you stabbed Mr. Sadot?” Detective Leony speaks softly to Amara, waiting for her to finish the story.

Amara lets a few tears fall from her face as she nods, “..Yes…I…I did..I was so scared..he was just…screaming and screaming…I’m sure the neighbors heard the commotion…am I…going to jail?” Her words are quiet and shaky. Amara begins to cry, her shoulders shaking as tears fall down her chin.

Detective Leony sighs and sets his notebook on top of the wooden table with a soft slap. “I can neither confirm or deny that…but off the record?” He leans forward in his chair and whispers in a comforting, deep voice, “..No…You are going to be on your way home within hours.”

Leony then stands from his chair, grabbing his notebook and tucking the metal chair nicely into place against the table. “I will see you soon Ms. Miller. Do you need anything? A jacket? More water? Perhaps an apple or something?”

Amara looks up at him and wipes her tears, clearing her throat before answering, “No…Thank you though..” She offers him a polite smile. He returns it. Then he leaves, and Amara returns to her quiet state.

Amara glances around the small room, recounting the cracks on the wall. Outlining her pointer finger on the scars that cover the wooden table.

What a night.

Amara closes her eyes and takes a deep breath. Holding it in her lungs before releasing it into the cool air.

When she opens her eyes a moment later, she once again finds the security camera in the corner of the room. Pointed straight at her, the tiny blinking red light reminds her to play nice. She’s being watched.

Tearing her eyes away from the camera, Amara settles onto the small clock hanging on the wall. Waiting.

Finally, after an hour, Detective Leony opens the door with a soft smile. “Okay kiddo, you’re free to go.”

Amara smiles with recurring tears in her eyelids. “Oh thank you”, Amara stands up and follows Leony out into the hallway and up to a counter, braced with a large glass wall on top of it.

“You got the items I asked for?” Detective Leony speaks to an elderly woman on the other side. She nods and pushes up her glasses, squinting her eyes as she reads a label on a large plastic bag. “143?” She tilts her head down, glancing between Amara and Leony above the rim of her glasses, looking for some kind of confirmation.

Leony nods, “Yup, that's it.” He grabs the bag from the little hole in the glass before handing it to Amara.

She grabs the zip-lock and opens the tab. “Oh…my things..thank you Detective…” Amara grabs her iphone, pressing the power button only to find it’s dead. Her fingers feel several small bumps on the back of the case. Amara slowly turns her phone in her hand and sees a few drops of dried blood on the back of the phone case. Amara swallows heavily.

He looks at her with a stoic expression, a sliver of pity shining through. He nods once, “Let me show you out.” Leony gestures to a larger hallway which leads to the entrance of the building.

***

“You don’t know anything, Ryan.” Amara seethed at her boyfriend as she inhaled her cigarette, leaning the back of her head against the hallowed out window in the wall, she blows the smoke out to the half-opened window of their second-story apartment.

Ryan keeps his distance away from the window. “I know what you did. You killed them. I found your little murderess keepsake box!” He threw down a black, cardboard converse shoe box onto the ground and what came out spilling was anything but surprising.

Amara carelessly glances down but her eyes narrow at the shoe box and the ingredients that are now sprawled on the wooden floor.

There is a pair of thin, black glasses with cracked frames and a few tiny spews of deep red droplets on them. Threading out of the box like a snake is a bright, multicolored scarf, which is drenched and stiff with dried blood. One end of the scarf is ripped and frayed, as if someone was tugging on it harshly. The items that slid furthest away are three pairs of phones. Two iphones and one android. All broken and a jumbled mess of electronic wires and boxes.

She raises her eyes to meet Ryan's eyes. Lifting the cigarette up to her lips, “Mmm” she inhales and holds the burn in her lungs, “Fine”.

Amara tilts her head down to the box and lifts her free hand to her face, she makes a soft kissing sound against her palm before flattening her hand and pursing her lips, blowing the smoke directed at the items.

“I did kill Toby…he was an okay boyfriend...and I killed his friend, and his girlfriend…They were wastes of space….so what?” Amara keeps calm and organized, unlike Ryan who keeps taking minor steps back from her.

“You got skeletons in your closet….and I have more than enough proof to take to the police.” He smirks. Like he defeated this large secret.

Amara stays still. Not frozen but still. Like her code is buffering. Amara takes a deep breath through her nose before tossing the bud of the cigarette out the cracked window and walks to the kitchen.

She opens up a cupboard, grabs a glass cup from the inside and leaves the cupboard ajar. Amara walks into the living room and finds her place a few paces in front of Ryan.

“What are you-” Ryan begins but flinches backwards and raises his hands near his face, “-Jesus Amara!”

Amara smashes the glass against her left bicep. She gasps in pain but keeps some of the shards and tosses them on the ground.

As Ryan stays in his self-protective stance, frozen in fear and confusion. Amara takes this as a chance to rush at him.

She tackles him to the ground and she scratches and tears at his arms and face, before beginning to scream, “Help! Someone help me!”

Ryan balls up his fist and strikes Amara on the side of her face, knocking her off of him and into the tall, standing lamp, knocking it over with a crash.

In the distance, you can hear the imminent sound of police sirens nearing.

Ryan gets up, running out of the living room and into the connected kitchen. Lurching around the small, rectangular island, he reaches for the large kitchen knife but a bleeding manicured hand reaches for it instead and unleashes it from the kitchen block, pointing it at Ryan.

Amara’s straight, blonde hair is now overflowing with stray hairs. Her face is red and wild, her collarbone has a paperthin cut from the glass shattering. Her shirt all bundled, her left shoulder has soft streams of blood leaking down her arm, leaving a trail of blood in her wake.

Amara laughs loudly, “You think you’re a smart boy? Huh? Little Miss Nancy Drew? Look at you, figuring out the puzzle that your girlfriend is a serial killer.” She keeps the newly-sharpened knife pointed at him, tightly gripping the wooden handle.

Ryan's eyes are wide, his hands are shaky with fear as he raises them near his shoulders. “Amara…don’t be stupid…the police are minutes away, don’t you hear the sirens?! That’s your reign, coming to an end!”

Amara scoffs, then screams again, “No! Ryan get off! Help! Help!” Amara grabs a vase off the counter and slams it on the ground, stepping forward and grabbing a tin bowl, throwing that against the wall.

The flashing red and blue lights now illuminate the second floor apartment.

Ryan shouts at Amara and turns to the door. Hearing the police cars right downstairs. But Ryan collapses to the ground with a deep, guttural scream, clutching his right side which is gushing with blood. Staining his clothes and seeping into the cracks of the hardwood floor.

He rolls onto his back and stares at Amara with tears streaming down the side of his face. She stands there with a wide stance, dripping knife in hand, and a dark smile. The police lights shine on the right side of Amara’s face and the tunnel of light shining from the toppled over lamp on the left side. The look in her eyes is manic.

Ryan gasps in pain, “You aren’t getting away with this…they’ll catch you… the police are here!”

Amara pouts her bottom lip in faux worry, “Oh you little boy…don’t you see? I didn’t kill anybody….You did…” She smiles before snapping her head up to the front door, the police banging on the wood, shaking the apartment.

“Help! Please, my boyfriend! He’s crazy!” Amara screams and begins to cry. She drops the knife on the ground, “You were a good boyfriend…pity you had to dig up the past.”She whispers, glancing one more last time at Ryan. Amara bolts to the door, flinging it open and collapses into an officer's arms, wailing and sobbing.

Other officers rush into the apartment and take over the apartment scene. Ryan lays on the floor, trying to speak and reach out as the police find him but the only thing that comes up is a gurgled mix of saliva and blood. It trails down his cheek as an officer with a first aid kit rushes over to assist.

Ryan rolls his head to the side and watches as the police find evidence of the night. The broken glass, the lamp, the knife, the shoe box of Amara's prior incidents.

Ryan's eyes fold close, the rush and urgency of voices fade into a loud ringing in his ears until the only thing seeping though the ringing is Amara’s loud cries, “He is a stalker! He killed my ex and my friends! I-I confronted him and he went crazy!”

The murmurs of a female officer quiets Amara’s thunderous sound down. However, on the stained floor, Ryan's world quiets down.

As Amara is led outside to the apartment parking lot, she is given a comforted blanket, a plastic water bottle, and a medic to bandage her shoulder. She sips her water in the back of a police car, letting her feet hang off the side and head resting on the open door frame.

Amara notices the large apartment doors open and watches the white cloth covered stretcher being loaded into the ambulance. She raises the water to her lips and sips from it to hide her smile.

Setting the water in her lap and wrapping the blanket tighter around her shoulders to protect her skin from the cold. That’s when Amara sees a tall, older man in a long brown coat and suit, walking towards her and the officer standing next to her.

He stops a few feet from Amara and holds out his hand to her,

“Hello Miss, I am Detective Leony, do you mind if we take you down to the station for a few questions?”