When A Ghoul Falls In Love

The middle-aged officer in civil clothes scrutinizes me with his dark gaze. I have to keep my expression neutral. I can’t let them smell that I am anxious. I am having my periods, but my clothes are covered with someone else’s blood. So, I can’t help but feel a little uncomfortable.

Who wouldn’t be? I am sitting inside the interrogation room. The light in the room is rather low. I know for sure that people are watching me from the other side of the mirror. I write crime novels for god’s sake. Even if my novels are nothing but crap, I know a thing or two.

“You should have ignored the dead.” The devil snickers.

I can see the scalp and count the hair on his head. Since he’s busy staring at me, I might as well count the number of hair strands to appease my rising anxiety.

“The man should just shave his head. Why does he keep those handfuls of hair? Does he not know how distracting it is? How many people tried to count the number of hair strands on his scalp like you are doing now?”

The devil in my mind has more personality than I do. It is also good at cracking jokes in most uncomfortable situations. I can’t resist but let out a laugh when I hear the words in my head.

The officer narrows his eyes and raises his brow. “Do you find something funny, Miss Solomon?”

“No, Officer.” I lie through my teeth. “I remembered that I forgot to buy painkillers.”

“Painkillers?” The officer leans forward with interest and places his elbows on the table. “Why do you need pain killers?”

“Period cramps.” His expression turns blank when he hears my answer. Why does he look like he has never heard of periods? “Officer, I mentioned that I was on the way to the medical store when I stumbled upon a dead body. I didn’t see the killer. I don’t understand why you are still keeping me here.”

The throbbing pain in my lower belly is making me nauseous. I should have gone to the medical store instead of meddling into other’s problems. Damn! If any of my future novels become famous, I will get these ovaries removed.

“Yes, you did.” The officer doesn’t look happy with my answer. I can’t care less about it. What I want to know is when I can leave this place. He fails to hide the judgmental look in his eyes. “Miss Solomon, you failed to get a good job after graduating from K University. You work at the bookstore these days. It must have been difficult for you.”

I get it. In your eyes, I am a failure because I don’t meet society’s standard of success. However, I believe in self-growth and all the philosophical shit that makes me believe that it is okay to be unsuccessful and keeps my ego from shattering into pieces. So, I am also judging you for judging me.

“I don’t understand what does that got to do with this.” I cross my arms and furrow my brows. “Is it a crime if I fail to get a good job?”

“Miss Solomon, you are quite funny.” The corners of his eyes crinkle when he laughs. “It is not a crime, but it must have been stressful for you.”

“Are you funny?” The devil asks me with a tone laced with sarcasm. “Since when people started to understand your morbid sense of humour?”

“I am a writer,” I utter with a calm voice.

“You are one? Which novel did you write?” The officer gives me a quizzical smile. I can tell that the officer already knows. I have been rejected by every publishing house in the city. I have posted my novels online, but I only got hate. I cannot call myself a writer. I am sure that the real writers will laugh at me.

Let’s get to the business. I straighten my back and return his smile. “I like straightforward people. I don’t think that you like me, Officer. I don’t like you either. I don’t understand why you keep five strands of hairs on your shiny head. That mystery bothers me more than the fact that I am sitting in this room while I endure the period cramps for hours.”

My heart gets some satisfaction when I see his face contort in rage. It’s childish, but I don’t care. His hair is his weakness. If you make fun of my life decisions, I am going to look down on your hair.

“I wouldn’t mind plucking the weed and clean the field.” I grin at him. His knuckles are turning white and veins are popping on his forehead. “My cramps are so bad that I can’t move. Despite that, I am doing my best to be supportive here, Officer. I have told you everything that I have seen and heard. Then, why I am here?”

He doesn’t answer me right away. He tilts his head a little. I notice an earpiece in his left ear. After a few moments of silence, he lets out his breath and loosens his fists. “Miss Solomon, you are here because you are a prime suspect.”

“Huh?” I gape at him. I didn’t expect to hear that.

“You were the only person at the scene.” The officer watches me with keen eyes. “Your clothes have the victim’s DNA. You also have a motive.”

That’s the most ridiculous thing that I have heard in recent times. “Motive?”

He replies with a flat voice, “Many writers try to gain experiences to improve the writing. You do not write romance, Miss Solomon. Your stories are quite… different.”

“How different? They are the crappiest stories in the world,” The devil chimes in.

I chortle. “You think that I am a suspect because I write crime novels? Do you know how ridiculous that sounds? This is just speculation. I had no plan to kill anyone. I was going to the medical store. I didn’t even have a knife.”

These words sound a little wrong. I bite inner cheek. The officer seems convinced that I am a sociopath who kills random people on the street. He leans back in the chair. “Miss Solomon, finding a dead body on the street might be a coincidence. But, can you explain your browser history?”

“Browser history?” I frown at him.

“You were browsing how to kill a person.” He tells me with a mocking smile, “You were studying where to stab a person to give him a quick death. You were also looking into different kind of poisons. You asked in the forum if a kitchen knife is sharp enough to kill a fat man in one stab.”

“That… That…” F.u.c.k! I feel cold sweat roll down on my back. How did they get their hands on my laptop? Did they visit my mother’s house? “That’s research.”

“Miss Solomon, don’t you think that it’s a huge coincidence that a crime novel writer comes across a dead body?” He pauses for a moment and smirks at me. “A woman on her periods? You must be emotionally unstable these days. It’s no wonder that you lost your marbles.”

I am so screwed.