“I didn’t do it man. You gotta believe me!”, Jake pleaded. His voice was shaking from the immense pressure he was under. He leaned forwards in his chair and his face was met with the soft glow from the lamp on the table, which in addition to the bulb above, provided the only source of light in the small room. The bulb flickered off yet again, and Jake found the departure of its light once again chilling. In his mind, the darkness foreshadowed his chances of survival, and so he clung onto the light whenever it presented itself-for dear life. The light indicated whatever slim chance he had and so he breathed easier when it shone down from above-and showered him with an energy only he could harness, and flinched whenever it went off. He didn’t like that it stayed off longer than it came on, but Jake was a fighter above all- and he’d be damned if he went down without so much as a struggle. As if sensing his resolve, energy replenished him once more from above, and he felt his confidence rise, if only for a second.
“Look man, I’m innocent!”, Jake spoke again, bringing his cuffed hands down hard on the table, an action that caused the other two opponents of the room to exchange looks between themselves, before turning to face the man before them. Jake wasn’t much to look at. In fact, none of the Bunker boys were. The pale white skin on his face was covered with sweat, sweat that caused his long hair to stick to his forehead. At 6’3, Jake was easily the tallest man in most rooms he entered. What he had in verticality however, he lacked in cognition. Like his father and two brothers before him, Jake wasn’t a great thinker and so he stuck to his strengths - his towering physique and the fact that he could reach up high above most folk. Those hadn’t brought him much luck in life, hadn’t saved him from crashing out of high school and had only earned him a job as a factory worker - beside his father and two older brothers. The family reunion on his first day had been jolly for those involved. They broke out beers at lunch time and Jake was christened a man by his father, all too proud that his last son was joining the family business…sort of. The other workers had looked on, amused. Only the Bunker boys would celebrate such a thing they thought to themselves. They all joined in however, seduced by the extra cans of beer available to celebrate the occasion. Soon it was a full party, that went on until it was disbanded by the supervisor who served the Bunkers a stern warning to boot. The supervisor then grabbed two cans from the open chest and unspeaking, turned and stormed back away. Beer is beer after all.
Five years later, Jake found himself in not so cheery spirits. Handcuffed and pleading to the two people in front of him, the now twenty-year-old was desperate to be heard. His face was lean, a result of the hard labour he underwent at the factory each day. The boyish charms his adolescent face had borne at his coming-of-age party were gone, replaced with tired empty eyes - eyes which had been robbed of their spark a long time ago. The rest of his face was plain, except for a large scar that run across the bridge of his nose to his left cheek, disappearing into the thick beard he very rarely shaved off his face. His rugged looks were a hit or miss among the ladies. So was everything else about Jake. The bulb above him blinked and went off once more, and his resolve dropped a notch. Sighing, he dumped his head on the table and clutched at his long blonde hair with his cuffed hands, tugging as if to uproot his entire scalp.
“Cut it out Jake. That’s unsettling”, Detective Catherine Brooks spoke for the first time. Her firm tone bounced off the walls and caused him to stop. Jake’s head slowly came off the table at the sound of her words and he looked her in the face, before slumping back in his seat, a chair too small for a man that tall. Leaning back, hands in his lap, he addressed the detective.
“What do you want from me Ma’am?”. His eyes switched between the detective and her partner beside her, who hadn’t said anything since Jake entered the room. Arms folded across his chest; Detective Simon Arnold had kept the same frowned expression on his face the entire period. His piercing gaze tore through Jake with a heat that made him as uncomfortable as it made him scared. Turning away from him, Jake looked to the charming face of the lead detective for warmth and opened his mouth to make another appeal. Seconds earlier, the light above had come on, filling him with more power. He had to seize it while he could.
“I al-…”
“We want the truth young man. Stop wasting our time.”, Arnold spoke out for the first time, startling Jake. He unfolded his arms to reveal a file in his left arm. Standing up, Arnold paced the small room, passing behind Jake right as the bulb flickered off, causing him to shudder. When he came full circle, the detective placed the file on the table. Gently, he extracted two large photos from within and lined them in a neat row, facing Jake, who sat up to catch a better look. The detective leaned heavily on the table and in that instant, the bulb flickered back on. Jake wished it hadn’t this time, for it did not come with the gift of essence he had come to expect. This time the bulb shone a clear light on the pictures in front of him. Jake instinctively covered his mouth with both hands as his heart raced and he plummeted into panic head-on. When he raised his face, his eyes met with those of Detective Arnold, who frowned back at him, as though looking to dig into his very soul and find the secrets he knew were there. Behind him, Detective Brooks crossed her legs slowly as she lit a cigarette. She pocketed her lighter with one hand, and with the other, took a drag on her cigarette. She spoke up after a puff, finally breaking the silence.
“Tell us Jake, why did you kill Misty?”.
At the sound of her words, the bulb flickered out.
