| abstract | - Pulling on the strong for the light, reacting in it turning on and showering the young girl in a brisk light. This being the only light source in the room, I soon make my way to my own seat that was just across from hers, hoping to begin the interrogating. When I met with the cold metal of the seat from under my heavy clothing, I noted the young girl –maybe no older than 6 years old had her shoulders scrunched up to her neck as if she were cold, even though there was a long brown puffy blanket around her small body. Fear. It was the only explanation to her shivering. Soon enough, her mother’s hand closed around her frame and comfortingly rubbed where her arms are. Deciding now was a good time to begin, I scratched my throat, clearing it of any unneeded saliva, and I spoke casually but with a bit of comfort so I could get her to speak. “Hello Katie, my name is Mr. Richards. I’m a detective here and I’m here to ask you a couple questions about the incident a few days ago. Is that okay?” Slowly, Katie’s head nodded and she whimpered slightly, her eyes batting to hold back tears. I couldn't blame her for wanting to cry; from all the photos I've seen from this case, it wasn't pretty. This young girl had seen it first person. What exactly? That is what I’ll have to work out of her, but I’ll have to take it slow. She looks like she’s about to break down in tears before she will even utter a word. As I open my mouth to ask the first question, she stops me by pushing forward a piece of paper with different colors drawn over it. I blink in confusion, what is it? Slowly I reach for the paper and pulled it closer so I could see it better. I held it up to my eye level and soon enough, my eyes widened, abandoning my once perfect poker face. On the paper was a drawing of another little girl. If you could say it was a girl. I could only guess by the red ribbon in it’s white, messy short hair that reached it’s neck and flew into her face. I couldn't depict much from the poor quality of the drawing due to Katie’s inexperience in art. However, there was something that I could not depict that seemed to be having held in the monsters hand. It was a crooked and lumpy pear-like circle. I placed it back onto the desk and push it towards Katie, it facing her and I point to the red little bundle in it’s hand, “Can you tell me what this is, Katie?” I forced kindness into my words, fearing hers to come. Maybe she was just lightening up the picture because it scared her too much? This wasn't the case at all I learned, for once I asked, Katie burst into tears but put up a finger and placed it over the red crayon that I pointed at. “M-Mikah…” Once the name was heard I stopped breathing. I felt as if a golf ball was in my throat and was growing, and I couldn’t swallow my own spit. Mikah was my cases victim, and more importantly, Katie’s 4-year-old brother. Did this… thing… EAT… Mikah…?! My field of thought was broken once I heard another choked cry and I blinked to rid of the remaining day-dream. Her mother is holding Katie as she clutched her shirt and sitting on her lap, bawling her eyes out and her mother stroked her back. It wasn’t only Katie that was crying either, her mother seemed to break down in the tears as well, but held back as she answered the question for her daughter, “I-it’s his interior organs. H-his har-heart to be exact…” Realizing I hadn’t taken in air in a while my lungs retracted to their normal pace and I gulped in a quick pack of air. My eyes stung with the on coming tears I wanted to shed, but I held back and forced myself to continue the interrogation…
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