Interview

I never thought I’d end up here, never in a million years. I had always thought myself to be smart and rather careful. Clearly, I was wrong. A blanket draped around my shoulders, wearing a hoodie and sweatpants that were loaned to me, shoes from the lost and found box, waiting for a detective to finally come take my statement. I’ve pinched myself so many times trying to keep myself awake, and as a reminder that I’m not dreaming.

The door to the interrogation room opens, and in steps the detective I’ve been waiting for, I assume. He is dressed like any other detective, white button up, black slacks, and wearing a rather tired expression.

“I’m detective Lucas Carter. You’re Miss Abott correct?” He takes a seat across the table from me. I think he is talking to me but he doesn’t look my way. Instead focuses on the folder in front of him. I don’t blame him for not wanting to look at me though, I certainly look broken at this moment. My hair’s a messy, matted with blood, my dark circles only accentuated by my crying over the last few hours, my throat is only slightly covered by the hood of the sweatshirt, leaving the dark bruises visible.

He clears his throat and addresses me again. “Miss Abott, are you okay?”

“Sorry, lost in thought. Yes, that is my name, but please just call me Elizabeth.”

“I understand, no need to apologize Elizabeth. You have been through a lot in the last 12 hours, and this is a difficult process. If you could explain what happened, I’ll ask a few questions here and there, but we need to hear your side of the story. Start when you’re ready.” Detective Carter looks at me briefly before he looks back down at the paper. He takes out a pen, and I take that as my cue to proceed.

“Well, it started with a meeting at the grocery store, the one 6th avenue. I was reaching for a cereal box on the top shelf, which was too high for me. That’s when I felt someone reach over my head and grab the box. I turned around to see Mr. Duosa. He handed me the box and I thanked him for the help then he smiled then walked away. That was the first time I saw him, but I would run into him a few times after that, he was almost like my guardian angel.” I sicken myself by speaking like this when it comes to this man, but I must be honest, and that was what I had thought at the time.

“What do you mean ‘guardian angel’?” The detective looks perplexed by the way I worded that, and I realize I should be more careful with how I say things going forward so that nothing is misconstrued.

“I meant that he was always there when I needed help, almost like magic. The second time we crossed paths, he saved my life. I was walking down the street, and someone pushed past me, causing me to lose my balance and fall into the street. Mr. Duosa pulled me up just as a car went past, missing me by mere inches. After that, it was just small run ins with him. I had lost my wallet while at a diner, and he happened to be there and paid for the meal, or Valentine’s day when every woman in the office received flowers, except me and I happened to run into him on my way home, and he took me to the flower shop to get me my favorite flowers. It was just little things that made me feel I was meant to have him in my life.” Looking back, it was strange that I saw him so often, and he was always there when I need1ed someone.

“It didn’t strike you as weird that he was always there? Just happening to know when you were in need?”

“At the time, I didn’t think about it like that, I was just happy to know that someone was looking out for me. I moved here a few months before I met him, I wasn’t making friends easily. I’m only 20 so I can’t go to the bar with my coworkers, I’m always the odd one out. It was nice to have someone there for me, looking at it now it was clear that I missed red flags. But red flags just look like flags when you’re wearing rose tinted glasses.” I feel like I’m making excuses at this point, I was an idiot, but that doesn’t change what happened, the story is still the same regardless of what I know now.

Detective Carter’s eyes are unreadable when he says, “If you realize now that it was bizarre, then it shouldn’t come as a surprise that he was stalking you. All those chance meets, weren’t simply accidents. We found your daily schedule in his house.”

I’m shocked, I don’t know if I’m more shocked to know that I was being stalked, or by the way that the question came across as if I was being accused of knowing and doing nothing. “I was unaware of that but knowing that and looking back, that does make sense.”

The detective’s face seems to soften slightly, “We have the gift of hindsight, knowing this now doesn’t change what happened. Please continue.”

“Right, well the flower shop was actually when I started to learn more about him. When he bought the flowers, he wrote a note on a small card that he included with the flowers, but I was told not to read the note until I got home. I thanked him and went home. I don’t remember the exact wording of the note, but it included a compliment about my looks, his phone number, next to which was written ‘call me’, and then he signed it ‘love, Jordan Duosa’. I believe I kept it, it would be in the drawer under the key stand in my apartment.” I rarely keep cards, but this one made me smile, Mr. Duosa was not an unattractive man, so his interest in me was not necessarily unwanted. “It took a few hours for him to respond to the text message I sent when I got home, but after he did, we ended up talking for a few hours, and learned that we got along rather well and had a lot in common. He was nice to me, and made me feel seen, which is not something that I’m used to. When he asked me on a date, I said yes. It was a little quick I thought, but he was kind, and lifted my confidence, I felt that I couldn’t lose that. We agreed that we’d go out the next day for dinner. He offered to come and pick me up, but he had done so much already. I convinced him to let me walk to his house, and then we could walk to a diner from there.

With everything planned, I went to bed excited. The next day came around, and soon enough it was time for me to go to his house. The walk wasn’t far, but I was nervous, and I guess that showed because when I arrived, he invited me in for a minute to rest my legs. I accepted and I sat in the living room while he finished getting ready. When I thought we were going to leave, he went to the kitchen and pulled two glasses from the cabinet, and then went into the pantry. He came into the living room and offered me some merlot. I tried to say no, but he assured me that no harm would come as neither of us were driving and even though I was not of drinking age, everyone my age drank. Which I did, I had the occasional drink on vacation or at a party, but wine had never been my poison of choice. I did however accept.

After he poured the drink, he turned on a movie, saying I seemed tired, and it was better to stay inside tonight and relax. It was strange to change the plans, but it was a first date, so I decided to go with the flow, and just enjoy the company. He was attentive, but not overly so, he would banter with me at boring parts of the movie, and making sure to refill my glass when it was getting low. I don’t know how many glasses of wine I had; it was hard to keep track when my glass never emptied. The wine was amazing, smooth and sweet, the only wine I enjoy. It wasn’t long until I realized that I was getting tipsy.

I tried to tell him that I didn’t need anymore, but he kept pouring, and I was too engrossed in the movie to really pay attention to how much I was drinking. After the movie finished, I tried to stand, but my legs were shaking too much to stand. I apologized for getting drunk, but he just laughed and told me it was fine, but I needed to stay and sleep it off. I declined, saying that I didn’t feel comfortable staying at someone’s house on the first date. This just made him angry, he started yelling at me about how he has always watched out for me and how could I be so ungrateful? This scared me and I tried to stand up to leave but he slapped my face and I stumbled to the side and fell on the floor. He climbed on top of me, pinning me on my back, and started to hit me, all over my torso and arms as I was trying to block my face. He then put his hands around my throat and squeezed. I tried to scream, or scratch him, but that had no effect, he was in a trance, and I was too weak to move. Just as I was about to pass out, I realized I had wiggled and moved closer to the coffee table where glasses were, so I reached out and grabbed my glass, and hit him on the head. I don’t think I hurt him, but rather just stunned him, but that was enough for me to push him off me and run towards the door.

He caught my waist and pulled me back, but instead of going towards the living room, he went towards his bedroom. I screamed and he slammed my back against the wall and put his hand over my mouth, telling me that I need to shut up, or he would actually kill me. I stopped screaming and he removed his hand from my mouth and stepped back slightly, this meant that I had room to hit him with the glass again. When I swung it the second time, it shattered. He still didn’t stop his advances though, and without thinking, I swung the broken glass, and it made contact with his neck. Blood sprayed everywhere, all over my face, my dress, the wall, everywhere. I didn’t stop and think at this point though, I just ran to the couch where my phone was and called 911.”

Detective Carter finished writing and stood up. “Thank you, Elizabeth. I’m going to need you to stay here for a little longer while we finish processing paperwork. Don’t hesitate to ask if you need anything.” He left before he got my response. Which is fine anyways. I just hope they believe my story. I have a feeling that detective knows something about me, maybe the makeup on my neck wasn’t convincing enough, or he knows about the other men I’ve stalked. He better be careful though, or he’ll be the next man caught in my web.