The white room was supposed to be used for the sole process of interrogation: the colorless walls used to invoke a response. The torture of no color could drive anyone mad, if they were there long enough.
But it wasn't colorless anymore: blood dotted the walls in certain areas. The clever inmates were tricking the system. They weren't about to let the authorities drive them mad, make them lose their minds and spill their guts, both figuratively and literally.
A man entered the room, opening the door with a soft squeak. He was a young Asian man with a rather serious complexion. He didn't look more than 19, but that could've just been the way he looked. As he crossed the room, the wide blood-stained room, he noticed that his two prisoners weren't from this country.
"Hello," he said crisply, in English. "My name is Kei Hanako. I'm here to question you."
The man and woman sitting opposite him were a freakish sight. They sat in their white chairs, their handcuffs lying on the milk-colored floor. They rustled with a clanking noise if one of them moved their feet.
"What is your name, sir?" asked Hanako, once again in accented English. He had his dark eyes leveled with the young man.
"Gabriel Rich," answered the man soberly, with a little smile.
"And you, ma'am?"
The woman, who looked like she was a bit younger than Hanako himself, replied, "Emma Johnsmith. Can I leave now?"
Hanako shook his head, narrowing his eyes over his clear-framed glasses and glancing at his files on his lap. "I want to know why we found you holding the severed head of a young teenaged high schooler yesterday."
Rich took Emma's hand, where a fresh wound on her palm oozed blood. Hanako noticed that the blood on the walls looked smeared, so this girl had obviously cut herself and then ran her hand over the wall to keep from being tortured by the White Room. Emma gave a little sad smile, and squeezed his hand.
And like it was a sign, the man answered.
He had a British accent, and his brown hair was styled upward in a sort of pomp. His face was young, but slightly angled. "We're paranormal investigators."
"And that explains you murdering a young girl, how, exactly? Mr. Rich, you do know that the birth rate here in Japan has been at a huge low? We need as many surviving children as we possibly can." Hanako said coolly.
Rich watched the man shift the clipboard on his lap as he sat down. "She wasn't alive, you understand," Rich said in a low voice. He peered at Hanako from under his eyes; Hanako noticed their brilliant blue color. "She was a ghost."
"We're ghost hunters, Hanako-san." Emma said softly in her slight American Southern accent.
Taken aback, Hanako stared at them. How ridiculous of a story were these two psychopaths making up! But, he decided to question them further. "You two are very oddly cooperative. Tell me more. Why are you hunting ghosts? I thought no one could touch or see a ghost except on rare occasions."
"That is true," said Rich calmly. Hanako was further surprised and disgusted on how this man could be so well-collected, even with blood from wounds covering his face and hands. "Japan has many malevolent spirits that hurt people. We're here to kill them."
"You can't kill a ghost. They're already dead."
"No, they're not," reasoned Rich. "They are dead, but not in the way you think. The soul leaves the body when someone dies. The soul remains in the body of these ghosts, but their body rots and ends up becoming apart of the ghost world itself. In short, the soul and body fuses, and then it is too late for the ghost to actually die."
Emma's pale, blood-dried fingers clutched Rich's hand. "We're here to get rid of your ghost problem. How many people have died in mysterious accidents this year, Hanako-san?"
Hanako mumbled a number, and Emma nodded sadly.
"They were murdered by ghosts. We didn't murder anyone. We only got rid of your worst enemy; it is ghosts that are killing your people." She stared at him pleadingly, begging him to understand, her extremely light brown hair thrown up in a side-swept ponytail, her right eye covered by her choppy bangs.
"I'm sorry, but I don't have any proof regarding your story."
"We can show you proof." Rich said.
"Bring us the head of the girl."
Hanako stared at them with a look of disgust, but then thought better of it. He snapped his fingers, and the sounds of a woman, who was waiting outside the white door, running began. "Whatever amuses your sick minds," he replied.
"We're not psychopaths-" Emma began, the first signs of anger flooding her voice. She had to get up, but Hanako withdrew a pistol from his hip.
"Sit down, girl." he said. "Or you'll have a bullet right between your eyes."
Rich tugged on her white cotton shirt, and Emma reluctantly sat down beside him.
The door opened, and a woman with blue gloves entered. She was holding the severed head of a girl. Her hair was long and tangled, dried blood around her neck, and her mouth open in a silent scream.
"Is this the head?"
Rich nodded. "Yes, sir."
Hanako took the gloves offered by the young woman, pulling them on with a snap and handling the head with care. The woman bowed low, and backed out of the room, closing the door softly.
"Now," said Hanako. "Your proof?"
"Just listen to our story," asked Rich quietly. "That's all we ask. Then you can make assumptions for yourself."
Hanako sighed impatiently, knowing that his questioning wasn't going anywhere, pulling out a tape recorder. It was much better to oblige to their wishes instead of pestering. "Let's just get on to your story." He pressed a button on the recorder, and the tape within it began to spin and run. "Suspects Gabriel Rich and Emma Johnsmith, testimony... Recorded by Kei Hanako, interrogator, on November 26th, 2019."
AN: I will try and do the next chapter tomorrow before I leave for Thanksgiving break! I hope you're enjoying it! It will only have 3 parts, it is a short story. And starting on New Years, Imma start posting COWR again... !!!! Yay! Please comment if you like it so far.