07:19 AM
Interrogation Room, Police Station

I'm innocent
I'm not guilty
I didn't do anything

She shouldn't be feeling this nervous, sweat beads dripped into the metal table although the room was fairly cold, she was innocent after all, right?

The room was dimly lit, the only light source being the overhead white light that could send her into a coma straight away if she managed to tilt her head high enough to take a good look at it.

White overhead light—Lane hated them, they reminded her of the lab she used to spend most of her time in, made her think that the doctors were trying to blind the patients so they wouldn't have a chance to escape the secluded facility—dangled right above the rectangular table giving her a massive headache since she hadn't yet adjusted to the lighting.

Forest's, especially the one Lane had been going in and out from, didn't usually have obnoxiously bright light due to its broad, chunky trees blocking out the rays coming from the sun in most areas, though there are specific spots where the sunlight can pass through creating a massive shadow.

Outside was mostly foggy too, the town had a cool tone to it like a blue hourlight had been cast onto the town.

Not too long ago, Lane and some of her friends decided to bike to school instead of taking their walking route it was quickly proven to be a terrible idea, they had to park their bikes next to the school building—chaining them up to the poles for extra precaution—at the end of the school hour, they found their bikes stolen.

It wasn't worth reporting to the police over and fussing about a new thief in town was the last thing people here needed nowadays, so they'd walk home.

It was Lane's first time being in the Police Station, there was not much to look at as her eyes scanned the entire room and found it was noticeably empty.

Going based on the lack of furniture and a few other instances she noted the room to be the interrogation room.

For now, Lane had to rely on her instinct and guess because of the mild memory loss she somehow took.

The last thing she remembered doing was running through the forest then the bright light hit her and for a moment there she thought she was watching a car drive at full speed towards her, she tried to use her hands to shield her eyes but it made a loud clanging noise.

Realising that she was handcuffed to the desk she could only assume that the police had taken custody of her.

In front of her rested a handful of files, about five to six of them. Lane couldn't put a guess on what kind of files they were.

Medical history? No way.

The lab would never give information out like that. Maybe it was her profile, criminal record-wait what, she didn't have a criminal record.

Okay, so what does that leave me with? Uhh photo evidence that I killed someone? Actually, I hope not.

Lane was so lost in thought that she did not notice an officer pushing past the thick door, also made out of metal, and into the room.

He sat on the seat across, plopping down a few more notes, the sound of the stack of papers hitting the desk was the ultimate reason she snapped out.

He sluggishly placed a phone down between them to record their conversation.

Originally Lane thought the police guy looked scared that she was gonna hurdle herself at him and very possibly attack him, but the signs didn't add up; he wasn't trembling nor breathing in an uneven pattern.

"Do you know why you're here Lane?" He questioned, brows raised while his arms were crossed.

When Lane didn't give him a direct answer he continued with his statement more harshly.
"Ms. Bourow you are a suspect in the disappearance case of five missing children,"

He shoves a few files closer to her view.
It was not her files, it was her friend's files. "All of which you were close with."

"Have you ever killed anyone?"

Stunned by the question, Lane's eyes finally looked up at him but stayed quiet.

He was waiting for confirmation. "The lab told me you killed Jayson Carson, yes?"

Again she was too scared to respond.

At the lab, she heard some doctors mention how police officers liked to change up your words and use them against you.

"Sixteen years old, boy, blonde hair, does that ring a bell?"

"It was an accident-"

"Was it?"

"The lab can back it up."

And just when she thought he would stop asking her questions, it ensued. "Floyd Kane, how about him?"

Lane swiftly discarded his subtle 'accusation'. "I didn't kill him. I found him."

Officer Jacob leaned back into his chair, "And Evie Mayfield?" He asked, turning the pages of her file.

"We found her body, it was burned alive, did you know that?"

She was not about to give him the satisfaction of a reply he was so desperately trying to hear and the universe thinks so too, as the door slammed open saving her from having to answer Officer Jacon's question.

"Miss Bourow, you're free to go. Sorry for the inconvenience."

"Wait but I haven't-" The previous officer started.

"There's no point in keeping her here. We found the killer. It was an opened and closed case." The other officer said, nodding to Lane that, yes she can go out.

"Can you?" Lane shook her cuffed hands.

"Oh yeah sure." He quickly rushed to her and unlocked the handcuffs, which left a vivid red mark around her wrist.

"Thanks." It was merely within earshot as she bolted out of the room.