Chapter Text
Millie walked into the room, shoulders slumping and feet barely lifting off the ground. She really wasn’t in the mood for this today. Of course, the universe decided to say screw you and plant a nondescript person near a place that kept becoming the site of a crime scene. She took a moment to note everything she could about the suspect in case she managed to sneak out. She jotted down bullet points on the notepad of her mouse-brown hair, the hook nose, honey skin, and her oval face. She also added that the suspect refused to open her eyes; the one thing that bystanders had been able to gather about the killer. She cleared her throat softly and began the interrogation.
“Alrighty miss, what’s your name?” The woman kept her mouth shut, not making any move to speak for the next minute as Millie waited for an answer. “Since it doesn’t seem like you're too keen on talking, let me grab some paper.” She shot a glance at the intern on the other side of the one-sided glass, and thank the gods the kid knew general ques. Not too long after he came in with a pen and paper, placing it close enough to the suspect for her to be able to reach it even with the cuffs on. The moment his hands retreated, hers practically lunged for the legal pad and Millie almost didn’t notice the little smile that crossed the woman’s face when he flinched back. Almost. She took care to not let the quizzical look that boiled in her off her face, considering that it might have been a trick of the light. She paused, then started writing in large swooping motions, using up as much space as possible. She turned the paper around to show her what she’d written.
Angerona. Good, this is a start.
“Okay, Miss… Angerona? Do you have a last name?” Millie most definitely butchered her name, but that wasn’t of importance. She shook her head. Odd, it wasn’t often they got this, even from kids who just got out of the adoption system without a guardian.
The rest of the investigation went rather poorly, with Angerona using vague answers that didn’t make sense in the situation at all, putting Millie on edge. It didn’t help that the air around this girl was off. Then the last question came in for the suspect.
“Alright, Angerona one last question,” the woman’s shoulders visibly sagged in relief, “what were you doing with a boning knife and a stone dagger at an often used crime scene?” Her demeanor didn’t change noticeably, but to the trained eye, one could see her stiffen just the slightest. Good, now she‘s finding out what it’s like to be in her presence.
What Millie expected Angerona to do was leap for the window, maybe dislocating her wrists in forgetting that she was chained to the interrogation table.
What Millie didn’t expect was for Angerona to tremble for a moment, then stop. Right when she stopped, the tremors spread through the rest of the room, slithering across the floor and creeping up the walls like ivy gone wild. She definitely didn’t expect Angerona to smile through this supposed earthquake. The woman across from the detective sat up straight like she had been a member of royalty spotted slumping, a smirk splitting her face in half. Millie crossed her arms, and let a stony glare fall on like a mask, directing the intensity at Angerona, as if to say I know you’re doing something . She took up an act of confidence, but her body screamed at her that something was wrong. Her palms started getting sweaty, her throat clenching and unclenching in a way that was sure to make her voice tremble, and her stomach churned most unpleasantly. Her nervousness had turned into fear . The worst part was that Angerona had opened her eyes.
There was no sclera, or pupil, or iris to mark a fake one. Instead, its nebulas and galaxies imploding and collapsing in on themselves, with stars speckling the dark backdrop, and planets decaying and breaking off into dust, with fires raging over the surfaces and monolithic glaciers standing tall in contrast and they fought but no one would co me out and the ice wouldn’t melt in the heat and the fire wouldn’t die as chunks of ice would fall into the embers as water and -
The eye sockets peeled away at the skin surrounding, but there was only more darkness. Her grin was all teeth, the tips dangerous and serrated, ready to rip into any prey, and were they always that sharp?
It’s alright dear. Thousands of voices whispered and hissed, hoarse and scratching against the ear. They came from every angle, every nook and crevice, wrapping around the mind and grating into her mind. One voice was louder than the others, screaming and feminine and it would have been so beautiful and melodic if it hadn’t been static that distorted it into every pitch that she could think of and then some. And it emanated from Angerona, but her mouth never opened. The sound vibrated the skin on her arms, and in response it roiled and swirled into a black tar-like substance, creasing it awkwardly. It spread up in both directions from the elbow, grasping on and moving all the way to the wrist and shoulder, and her hands turned into claws that would’ve dwarfed Millie’s throat if they had throttled it. The color on the walls dripped down to the tile that crumbled away into the nothingness that had now surrounded them and at the same time was always in there gagging and strangling them without them even noticing.
Angerona’s skin melted off her face in fleshy lumps, dragging muscle with it showing off the bleached bone beneath that was disintegrating into the darkness that ate away and consumed mindlessly like a disease. The smile never disappeared throughout this whole ordeal, even after she lost her lips there was a distinct impression of an unnerving smile in the way the skull (or at least was left of it) lilted to Millie’s left, leaned in towards the detective, jaw resting idly on clawed hands that held the darkest shadows that the human mind could not comprehend. Even as the meat on the bones liquified, the talons still collected and rippled imitating muscles, strong and intimidating, but it was still so wrong, and it didn’t bend right or rotate correctly and chan ged in shape and size and she couldn’t foc us on them without getting the beginning of a migraine. With a passing thought, Millie realized that they could crush her windpipe with less effort than her using scissors to cut paper.
I may not be the one you seek, but, the voice was back, and it was so so much worse, shrieking voices in the back that permanently needled their way into sounds that bounced and rattled around the inside of her head. I can absolutely help you find them. One of those things reached out and she flinched back, clutching onto the arms of her slowly deteriorating chair as if it could save her. Something that resembled a thumb wiped away teary streaks that ran down her face. She hadn’t even realized she’d been crying. Because darling, the voice continued, scratchier and breaking out with static with every other syllable almost completely beyond understanding, I know everything. She pressed tendrils of the things that horribly resembled hands and ribbons of purplish-pink light that marbled between the two colors swam from all around into her eyes and ears and any opening they could get at. Millie’s eyes rolled back and her head slammed onto the table.
A glimpse of adoption papers with a familiar name and a flash of the intern’s face.
A hood retracting to show raven hair pulled back to frame an ivory-toned face with eyes the color of denim marbled with a cerulean or cornflower set into the sockets, and a triangle of moles beneath the right eye. A lithe body structure, short and making it easy to make it into small spaces. Splatters of blood creeping up her blood from the absolutely covered knife she held in her hand, and a stray drop or two adorned her face.
A group of people that varied in every aspect all dressed in dark violet robes in a circle with candles and a mutilated lamb.
Millie’s boyfriend with another girl -wa it what?
She lifted her head off the table and found herself alone in the room with fuzzy memories of investigating a… girl? Somebody? Was she even interviewing someone? Why was she in the interrogation room? She exited, remembering only the glimpses of secrets that were shown to her with no recollection of how she got them. But she most definitely knew what to do with them.