“YOU’RE DODGING MY DAMN QUESTION!” Officer Gabe shouted, slamming his shaking fists onto the already uneven table; the man’s expression was scowling and a vein was popping out from his forehead. “Where the hell were you on the night Lona was murdered?!”

The case was close to becoming cold, and because the agency didn’t want that to happen, they were frantically trying to get a lead. Gabe was oddly excited to end the search for the culprit behind Lona’s death, but it might not seem like it at the moment due to his short temper.

Milo’s eyes narrowed with annoyance, his arms crossed over his chest as he pierced his gaze right into the officer. “I’m not dodging your question at all; I’m telling you that I didn’t do it. You have-”

The officer growled and spoke over the suspect’s words, his fists clenching and his body subtly stiffening. “Then why are you one of our top suspects, huh?!“

“I don’t-“ The officer cuts Milo off again.

“All of our evidence is pointing to you, you know; you live right next to Lona, you two never liked each other, and you were the only person who had something against her!”

“None of that is true, you fucking liar! I’ve barely even talked to her, much less hate her!” Milo quickly defended himself, leaning forward a bit and gritting his teeth while also contributing to the yelling. Now, the interrogation heating up into an argument, their retorts echoing off the cold walls of the dim interrogation room.

“Either way, you could’ve answered my damn question!”

“I don’t need to! I didn’t do it!”

“Then why are you getting defensive all of a sudden?!-”

“I’m not! I’m just trying to say that you got the wrong fucking guy!”

“We-“ the officer paused for a moment, realizing that he was getting nowhere. With a sigh, he attempted to regain his calmness, rubbing his face in his hands as he tried to hide his shallow breathing.

“Fine. I’ll be right back.” He said as he got up, not noticing Milo’s eye roll and irritated grumble.

Officer Gabe shut the door behind him, rushing to his desk before the other cops could question him about the interrogation. He swiftly opened his drawer to grab his anxiety medicine, popping a couple of pills into his mouth with a guilty expression; the only questions in his head were _“why the hell did I even do it?”. _

__

He hated being dishonest, especially when it’s about something as serious as Lona’s murder, but he couldn’t lose everything. He had to keep it going.