She was all quiet, her head down, her view hidden by the strands of her hair.
According to the police guarding her, the eyewitness had not moved or spoken since she was escorted here to the station.
Slowly approaching her, pulling a chair and sitting across from her, I started to unwrap my greasy Chinese food take out.
“Sorry about this, but I haven’t eaten anything the whole time.” I apologized as if she cared, but, of course, we all knew she didn’t, or even noticed that I was there at all.
Opening the box of food as I flipped open the manila folder of her information, I read through her details as I cracked apart a pair of chopsticks.
She didn’t move. At all. Her long black hair still, her arms and body as stiff as a tree, taking its roots on the ground it stayed in.
“Would you like some?” I offered, as I pushed the food closer to her. “You look like you might be starving.”
Pushing the chopsticks alongside the box as an offering, I placed them in front of her as I flipped through pages and pages of her profile.
Born Eileen Ranch, aged twenty-five, she remained in the city she was born and was a drop out of the Technical College of Computer and Sciences. She had criminal files of when she was arrested due to drug possession and prostitution charges, not to mention loitering and theft.
The food remained, the steam rising from it revealing that it was getting colder and colder.
Seeing that it was pointless, I reached out my arms and started to pull the food back.
That was when she moved.
Her hands fast to grasp at my arms, her head raised as she moved up, her lips cracked and split, her eyes lonely, trying to speak.
Sort of shocked, I let the food go, and retrieved my arms. Almost immediately, her hands moved and she slowly reached for the chopsticks.
It was like watching a hologram, the way she moved, slow and fluid, as if she danced ballet a long time ago.
She quickly ate the meal I offered her, chomping and swallowing as if she had been hungry for millenniums. Watching her eat actually made my own hunger leave, as amazement covered the instinct for whatever made me get the food in the first place.
As soon as she finished, she made a huge gulping sound, one loud enough that I could hear it across the table. It sounded as if she’d just chewed the entire meal and had just now swallowed it, a thought that sounded insane even to myself.
“You feeling better now?” Was all that I could say at the moment, as I took the moment to compose myself, wondering what I would say to her.
She just nodded, as she placed the chopsticks on the box, her hands swiping the leftover sauce from her lips, as if she were a child herself.
“So, tell me,” I started, as I asked the guards behind me for two cups of coffee. “Do you remember what happened?”
She nodded. Once, twice, her hair still not moving despite her own movement.
“Can you describe to me what the killer looks like?”
She shook her head. “No,” she spoke in a timid voice, a word barely escaped from her chapped lips, as her jaws chomped down and shut itself again.
“You didn’t see the killer then?”
She shook her head again.
The coffee arrived, and I pushed a cup to her, who refused and pushed it to the side instead.
“Is there a reason why you can’t describe him even though you saw him?” I asked as I took a sip of coffee, looking at her as her face expression changed, the quietness that masked her before becoming contorted with stress and worry.
It wasn’t before long till she spoke, even though her words made no sense. “It was the devil.” She said between stuttering, the words struggling as it pushed itself out of her mouth. “He was there to take away his soul.”
Once again, it just made no sense.
“Excuse me?” I asked as I sat up. “Could you repeat that again?”
She just shook her head after I asked, her lips twitching, her teeth showing as her body convulsed, jumping and hopping.
It wasn’t long before she just cracked out laughing, a tone that matched the madness of what she had said before. “He exists!” She screamed amongst her laughter, her head snapped back and her chair on the edge of toppling down.
The guards rushed in and tried to get near her, but I raised my hands up to stop them, as I stared at her and tried to get through her;
“Eileen, repeat to me again.” I yelled louder, but still stern, not changing the serious expression I had on my face. “What did the killer looked like?”
“He said I had no body,” she snapped at me as the chair slammed down on the ground, her face lowered and near as close to me as her neck could extend out. “He said I had no soul,” I could feel specks of her spit here and there on the surface of my face. “He said that I wasn’t worth killing, because I would be dead soon, that I wasn’t worth his time at all.”
The guard to my right gave me a look of confusion, but I just nodded as I held my hand in front of him still to yield him. “What did the killer look like, Eileen. Tell me what the killer looked like.”
“He’s here to kill us all.” She screamed as she convulsed backwards, her hands flashing towards her face, the chair now tipped more and more. “You! You! And you, you you!!!”
And as the edge of the chair’s legs gave out, she fell along it, stiff like a statue, as the loud bang on the ground announced the heavy fall she had taken.
We rushed to her, but it was already too late.
She had gauged her own eyes out, squeezed them with her hands so much that they had just popped, the white gauzed liquid inside spread along the blood, everywhere.
She was still screaming as the guards tried to pull her eyes out, as we called the paramedics, as we called for help.
Rob told me later that she never did recover from it, that she would not eat or drink or speak, all the way till her body exhausted and just gave up.
The devil had already left his mark on the world.