Clarity

“Nobody believed in me. That was their first mistake.” I leaned back in my chair as I spoke, examining the man in front of me. He looked about twenty years my senior. Fifties I’d guess. From the looks of him it had been a well lived fifty. His skin was tan and leathery, definitely spent ample time in the sun. I noticed prominent smile lines around his mouth and eyes when he spoke. I can tell that he laughed often. Good thing that’s not an inconvenience I’ll ever have to deal with, no Botox necessary. I smiled slightly to myself but lost my train of thought as the gravely voice across from me traveled my way.

“That was important to you?” He asked with a raised eyebrow. “That they believe in you?”

“Mmm, no.” I stated with my head tilted to the side. I shrugged. “But things would have turned out a whole hell of a lot different if they did.”

“And what exactly did you need them to believe?” He leaned forward as he said this and I scoffed at his word choice. Need. What a presumptuous implication.

I rested my clasped hands down on the cool metal surface in front of me, “Not need detective. I don’t need anything from anyone.”

“Okay then.” He put his hands up in mock surrender and sat up straight. “What would you have liked for them to believe.”

I let out a sharp breath. “You don’t get it,” I said shaking my head. “I wanted them to believe in me.”

“For them to believe in you toooo…?” He drew out the last word.

“I wanted them to believe that I could change things. Really change things. Everyone at work just walked around in their own little bubble, pretending. They sit there like it’s nothing. Joking, stretching, checking their phones every five minutes, and I’m supposed to believe that’s ‘normal’? No. That’s neglect. That’s decay. You don’t just drift through things that matter unless you’ve already decided they don’t.” Detective Pierce had his blue eyes locked onto mine. He nodded, brow furrow, and gestured for me to continue.

“And every time, every time, you try to say something, they flinch. ‘Let’s not get into that.’ ‘I don’t have the bandwidth for this.’ ‘That conversation isn’t appropriate for the workplace.’ Please.” I chuckled lightly. “Bandwidth. Like they’re systems, they can just shut parts of themselves off and call it healthy. It’s not healthy. It’s hiding. It’s cowardice dressed up in HR language when the truth is they are terrified of being seen. Then they disagree. Softly, politely. They pretend it’s about opinions but it isn’t. Every suggestion, every proposal and idea to make things better and all they do is smile and nod and… you guessed it. Disagree. NOT because I’m wrong but because they’re afraid. So, then what are they doing? Lying. Not just to me but to themselves. Constantly. All the time. They think I don’t notice. They think I’m the one who’s off. Too ‘intense.’ But the reality is that I was the only one who was never pretending.” I whisper, “and they can’t stand that.” I realized that I stood up at some point because I was inches away from the detective’s face with my hands pressed flat against the table. I sat back down and reached for the small paper cup placed to my right. My hand shook as I brought the cup to my lips. I closed my eyes and let the cold water pool in my mouth for a moment before swallowing. I let out a shuddering breath. When I opened my eyes detective Pierce had his narrowed eyes fixed on me, analyzing me. He said nothing and we sat and listened to the sound of silence as the tension between us grew thicker. The fluorescent lights seemed to grow harsher and pulsed in tune with the thudding in my head. He cleared his throat and finally spoke. His voice was low and pointed.

“I hear what you’re saying. I do. But none of that explains why you hurt someone.” BANG! I slammed my hands down on the table and my hand, moving seemingly of it’s own volition, grabbed my water cup and threw it towards the wall behind the detective.

“No, no, no, NO, NO!” I yelled. BANG! I slammed my hands down once more and stood as my palms violently kissed the steel table. “YOU’RE. NOT. LISTENING.”

“I am listeni…”

“NOOO, DETECTIVE. NO” I cut him off before he could finish his sentence. “You are just hearing with your ears but you’re. Not. LISTENING.” I didn’t want to hear anymore lies roll off his smooth tongue. He was just like them. Just. Like. Them. He almost had me fooled, waltzing in here in his fancy suit and loosening his tie to give off the impression that he was relaxed because if he relaxed then I relaxed right? Asking questions and pretending to care about me about my ideas and my thoughts and my motives and my purpose. Pretending. Always pretending. He’s like everyone else, playing a part, playing a role, playing detective as if he truly craves the truth when all he craves is recognition. He wants to be the one to “crack the case” and show his peers that he was able to answer the question that’s on everyone’s minds: why did I do it. That way he can give himself a little gold star and a pat on the back then clock out of his job and tell the wife and kids the lore of how the big bad detective put away a murderer. When his head hits the pillow at night, he will sleep soundly with the lie in his heart that he is making a difference in the world but he is a pretender. If he genuinely cared enough to dig deep and open his eyes he would understand, he would be on my side. Not on the side of sheep.

As my thoughts continue to race, I catch a glimpse of myself in the mirror on the wall behind the detective. My olive skin is now flushed with red, my eyes are wide sharp, and I am heaving so hard that my shoulders are fiercely moving up and down as my chest expands and contracts. There is water dripping down the mirror from when I threw it before. It trickles down the reflection of my face as if I am bathed in sweat or tears. I look deranged. The thought makes me giggle as I realize how worked up I let myself get. But, that is what sets me apart. I, am not a pretender. Couldn’t be if I tried so my passion is palpable. I peek at myself again and this time burst out in a belly laugh. I grip onto the back of my chair as I double over in a cackle. My entire body is shaking in amusement. Me? Deranged? Maybe I’ll achieve some semblance of the detective’s smile lines after all. My moment of hilarity subsides just as quickly as it was brought on. I take a moment to contain myself and abruptly sit back down.

“Finished?” Detective Pierce asks me with a quizzical look. I say nothing but present him with a sly grin. “What was the second?” The detective’s question catches me off guard and I squint my eyes in confusion.

“Mistake,” he clarifies, “you mentioned earlier that their first mistake was not believing in you. What was the second?”

“Even though they whispered and snickered about me, I was very vocal about the need for a change, and I was more than willing to spearhead the movement. But no one ever asked me how. That, detective, was their second mistake.” He pondered my statement for an instant before speaking.

“If someone would have asked, or let’s say was open to helping or hearing you out, would the outcome have been different?”

“I answered that earlier.”

“At what point did your plan for change shift to become what it became?”

“Ughhhhhh.” I grunted loudly as I threw my head back. “I am getting quite bored of these circling questions. Stop pretending detective Pierce. I know you don’t care about my thought processes or ideals.” I rolled my eyes. “If you have something to ask me,” I leaned towards him and spat out, “then fucking ask it.”

“Why did you kill Ellie Greenwood?” He asked blankly with little to no emotion in his voice. “We know the how, but even with all that you’ve said I still don’t understand what drove you to murdering your boss.”

“Murder?” I shook my head, almost gently. “No. I just forced her to confront the truth, to see who she was beyond the façade. It’s not my fault she couldn’t handle it.” I closed my eyes and the memory of that day drifted towards me.

The roof door clicked shut behind us, the sound swallowed by the open air.

Ellie turned sharply. “What are you doing? We’re not having this conversation out here.”

“It’s quieter,” I said. “No interruptions.”

“There wasn’t going to be a conversation at all,” Ellie snapped. “This has gone far enough.”

I stepped closer, the wind tugging lightly at my sleeves. “You keep saying that. ‘Far enough.’ Like there’s a line for this. Like truth just stops where you’re uncomfortable.”

“Stop.” Ellie held up a hand. “You need to go inside.”

“No.” My voice softened. “You do.”

Ellie turned toward the door but I moved in front of her again, quicker this time.

“Move.” There was no patience left now. Just tension.

“Not until you say it.”

“Say what?”

“That you’ve been letting it happen. That you see it. That you’ve been pretending right along with everyone else.”

Ellie let out a sharp breath, glancing past me, toward the edge of the roof, then back. “This is insane.”

“It’s simple,” I said. “You just won’t do it.”

“I’m done with this.” Ellie stepped forward, trying to push past.

I grabbed her arm.

Ellie jerked back immediately. “Don’t touch me.”

But I didn’t let go.

“Just listen,” I insisted, tightening her grip. “Just stop for one second and actually..”

“Let go,” Ellie said, struggling now. “LET GO.”

“You’re doing it again,” I said, voice sharpening. “Running. You always run.”

“I am not running. I am leaving.” Ellie twisted, trying to pull free.

“No, you’re avoiding it.” I stepped forward with her, forcing her back a step. Then another.

Ellie’s heel caught slightly, too close to the edge now.

“Oh my God stop, please.”

“You know I’m right,” I pressed. “You’ve always known.”

“PLEASE.” This time, there was something else in Ellie’s voice. Not anger. Not authority.

Fear.

For a split second, I hesitated.

Then Ellie pulled hard, trying to break free and something me snapped into place.

My grip shifted, both hands now, firm, decisive.

“Don’t,” Ellie said, breath catching.

“You don’t get to walk away from this,” I replied, almost gently.

And then, I pushed.

It wasn’t wild. It wasn’t frantic. It was deliberate. A single, steady motion. Ellie stumbled back, arms grasping at air that wasn’t there. There was a moment, a fraction of one, where our eyes met as her body floated off the building. Silence rushed in behind her. I stood at the edge, looking down, unmoving. My chest rose slowly, then fell.

“…You could have just said it,” I murmured. The wind answered for me.

“You want to know what I think?” The detective’s gruff voice shot me back to reality.

“Not particularly, no.” I answered.

“I think,” he continued anyways, rude, “that you talk a lot about change and honesty and accountability. People pretending. But that’s not really what this is about.”

He paused, letting the silence sit.

“I don’t think you killed Ellie Greenwood because she was wrong,” he continued. “I think you killed her because she was everything you wanted to be. Respected, listened to, liked. People followed her. They trusted her. And you…” His eyes hardened slightly. “You couldn’t get them to do that for you.”

His voice stayed calm, but there was weight behind it now. I could feel the heat rising in my body.

“So you told yourself it was about fixing things. About making people better. But really? You didn’t want to fix them. You wanted them to accept you. To see you the way they saw her.”

Sweat began to pool on my temples and my heart began to push against my chest.

“And when she wouldn’t give you that. When she kept dismissing you, setting boundaries, moving on like you didn’t matter,” he shook his head faintly, “that wasn’t just frustrating to you. It was unbearable.”

He met my eyes. Anger surged through me at his accusation. The edges of my vision blurred black and all I could focus on was the detective’s putrid mouth as he spit out his venom.

“So you didn’t create change like you think you did. You removed the one person who proved you couldn’t.”

My expression twisted with unstable, unsatiated rage.

“No.” When I spoke my voice was low and guttural. “No, you don’t get to say that,” I snapped, voice rising. “You think I wanted to be her? You think I needed them to like me?” I let out a shaky, brittle laugh. “ELLIE WAS FAKE. All of them were. Smiling, nodding, shutting everything down the second it got real. And she led it. Worse, she encouraged it, like that made her strong.” My fists slammed against the table. “I tried to make her stop. I tried to make her listen. Just once, if she could just see me… But that bitch wouldn’t. She just kept walking away like I was nothing, like I didn’t even matte..” I choked on the words, anger snapping back into place. “So yeah, I pushed her, because she was weak. She couldn’t even stand there and face it? When she couldn’t even face me?” I composed myself and stated flatly, “Ellie was the boss. She was at the top. If she couldn’t stop pretending then no one else ever would.”

Exhaustion suddenly overtook my body and I slumped in my seat. I glanced over at detective Pierce and wondered why he looked so smug. I froze with the full awareness that I had just confessed… to murder.

Without another word, detective Pierce stood and quietly walked out of the interrogation room, leaving me with the booming echo of the door slamming shut behind him.