#LET'S GO BAYBE WOO WOO WOO WOO--

[rosaliamorais]

a guide to eventually getting framed for murder by the police, probably, as told by rosa.

mentioned: @ivyleagves, @holdenwoodz, @figurchead

Part One ( You. )

Do you have any criminal history? Anything big or small that you want to make us aware of?

“No.” The answer is a little too quick, a little too panicked to seem entirely true. Her nerves are shot, her blood is laced with caffeine. She can’t stop shaking; hopefully they chalk it up to her anxiety. That is, after all, a major part of why she can’t seem to sit still, her usual decorum is lost-- forgotten and left to rot on the forest floor, just as she had been. Just as she’d learned Nathaniel had been. That thought churns her stomach, brings a welling of tears to her eyes. She squeezes them shut for just long enough to clear her vision and not a second more. Closing them for too long is a mistake. Trying to force herself into falling asleep for the past two nights was enough proof of that. Even still, her quick answer boiled down to mostly being about the fact that the other twenty-nine students involved in this case now knew her deepest, darkest secret. Unfortunately for some of the police officers in this very precinct, they knew it too. They just hadn’t needed the blog to tell them. “I have no criminal record. I’d be pretty stupid to pursue law, if that were the case.”

How have you spent the few weeks back at college? What have they been like?

An incredulous gaze lifts from the place her hands are fidgeting on the table, brows furrowing as she tilts her head. “Are you kidding me?” A breathy laugh, cold and unamused. “I’ve spent them in total fear, Elaine.” She says the name with the venomous taste of condescension on her tongue, only to turn to the younger officer immediately after, her expression puzzled. “You’re sure you want to work here, Mikey? I’m pretty sure you’d be better off training under Starsky and Hutch.” The girl who would’ve come into this interview all of a week ago was nowhere to be found amidst her foul temperament and biting remarks today. In spite of the current state of affairs surrounding her reputation, Rosa had always been respectful to the right authorities, even if she felt they were undeserving. 

The person answering these questions retained nothing of that polite, well-mannered mask. “They’ve been horrifying. One day I’m celebrating making it to my senior year, the next I’m worrying about whether or not any of the people who knew Daisey were going to see graduation.” A faux-thoughtful expression crosses her face before she speaks again. “Oh, and then the local police force decided to keep us all on lock-down, like we’re kindergartners on a field trip. And would you believe that it didn’t help anything at all, because four of us went missing under their oh-so watchful eyes? One of us were even murdered? The second one in a month? I don’t know. Maybe, if you ignore all of that crap, it’s been a great last year before for law school.”

Part Two ( Daisey. )

How did you know Miss. Rutherford? What was the nature of your relationship?

“We barely associated. We had a few petty arguments now and then; academic rivals, I suppose.” You guys aren’t asking the right questions. This won’t help anything. The thoughts nearly tumble from her careless lips, only kept back by Rosa’s tightly clenched jaw. “She was a cruel and vindictive sociopath, but I’m sure you’ve gathered that much. Even with your way of investigating. Point is, I didn’t care about her until she went missing. I was just focused on getting into Harvard. I don’t have the time to spare on actively hating someone. Other than being a snarky annoyance, Daisey wasn’t on my radar. Everyone was on hers, though. Girl had no life aside from getting off to the sound of people crying.”

Do you remember where you were the night Daisey went missing? If so, where were you? What were you doing? Who were you with?

“I was at Oz Lamar’s party, same as basically everyone else at St. E’s. I spent part of the night with my gi-- my friend, Ivy Westbrook. We did shots together, I got super drunk, and then I met Holden Woods and we became besties in the bathroom.” She produced her phone in order to scroll through several of their blurry, intoxicated pictures together. “These span over an hour. So, clearly I was having the time of my life, I guess.” At least the change of subject subdued her sudden temper, her demeanor visibly simmering down.

Did you notice anything strange about Daisey’s behavior the night she went missing? Did you notice anything suspicious about anyone else you ran into that night?

“All I remember of Daisey that night is seeing her dry humping someone who was definitely not her fiance.” That’s all she plans to say, before she decides to tell them more before they can demand it. “I saw her making out with someone else. I don’t know who it was, because I’d assumed it was the guy-- is his name Octopus? No, that’s stupid. I don’t know.” She takes a second to collect her thoughts, lips pursed in her concentration. “Anyway, I thought it was him. Clearly, I didn’t want to be privy to a peep show, so I ran through the hall. That’s when I ran into the poor guy. Completely unaware Daisey was hooking up with someone else.”

Where were you the night Daisey’s body was recovered?

“I heard while I was in the grocery store. Everyone around me started talking about it, and someone turned on the TV. Everyone in the store just stopped and stared, horrified. No one wanted to believe it. Regardless of what kind of person she was, she didn’t deserve to die.” Rosa can still recall the look on every single stranger’s face that day. “It was so... quiet in there after the broadcast went off. Not another word was spoken, like an infinite moment of silence.”

How familiar are you with the Ashmont woods? Have you been there often? Have you recently ventured out here? If so, why?

“Fuck you.” She pushes her chair back with a deafening screech of the legs against the floor, poised to get up and leave. An empty gesture, apparently, since she stays in her seat. The room is blending together now, her eyes trying to find something to anchor her to the room, to remind her of where she is. Each of her hands find the lining of her seat, her white-knuckled grip doing nothing to help. She finds herself breathing in uneven patterns, heart palpitating as she tries to distract herself. This is pathetic: one mention of the woods and she’s unraveling, spiraling into a panic attack faster than she’s ever done so before. She’s avoiding either officer’s gaze out of humiliation, unwilling to ask for help. The sound of her own voice calling out that night, begging for a savoir, is an echo in her mind. The concrete floor of the police station suddenly looks a lot like the blood-riddled leaves coating the ground in the Ashmont woods.

You’re okay, you’re safe, you’re here. The voice reminding her of her safety isn’t her own. It’s Ivy’s, gentle and careful and warm, the same words she’d woken up to, after being pulled from a nightmare on the night they spent together. The memory slowly overtakes the one Rosa’s trapped in, the rough edges of the treeline enveloping her smoothing out, fading back into the recesses of her mind as she concentrates on breathing. Her relief is palpable as the comfort of home brings her back to her senses slowly, allowing her to melt into the chair once again. A hand covers her eyes as Rosa motions for the questions to continue and clears her throat. “I’m intimately familiar with the depths of that forest, considering how you and your incompetent officers nearly let me die there, thanks for reminding me.” She broke her words in order to pull in a deep sigh, the only thing keeping her from crying being her adamant desire not to deal with these people for a second time. “I don’t want a break, I’m fine. Keep asking your stupid fucking questions, because I’m not coming back for another one of these.”

Part Three ( the Investigation. )

Do you have feelings towards the investigation? Any comments?

“Just one,” Rosa takes a moment to steady herself before she looks the lead detective in the eye once again, defiance scribbled across her features, jaw set. “Do better before someone finds dead student number three in some storage building.”

Do you have any people you feel the police should look into? Please, let us know who and why.

It’s getting increasingly difficult to answer these inane inquiries, and her expression shows it. “I guess the fiance. I wouldn’t be happy if I found out the girl I was engaged to was sleeping with other people. I don’t know if he knew, so I’d break that to him gently. Daisey was a good liar.”

Part Four ( Weekly Events. )

Where were you kidnapped from? What do you remember of your abduction?

She’s moving uneasily in her chair once again, the only thing holding her facade together the mantra she’s still repeating in her head. Nerves make it hard for her to be angry, the rage from a few moments ago swapped out with unease, her hands back to wringing together, her foot beginning to tap against the floor. “I don’t remember any of that. Doctors said I could’ve blocked it out, or something, but I can’t even remember waking up that morning. As far as I’m concerned, that entire day is gone.”

What details do you recall from the time you were captured to the time you were released?

“Details?” Rosa’s disapproving scoff is half-hearted now, as she fights to recall the fuzzy memories in as calculating a way as possible. She couldn’t-- wouldn’t-- freak out again. “There aren’t details. At least, not for me. I couldn’t see, couldn’t hear, couldn’t speak. I was awake for all of it, and I couldn’t even get the blindfold off.” The tears that’d made such a fuss trying to escape her eyes are finally streaming freely down her face, but she’s too preoccupied to notice. “My arms were tied down to a chair,” her hands instinctively gravitated to the burns on her wrists, “and my legs were tied together. My mouth, um, was duct taped… and… there were these headphones on me. Noise cancelling, I guess, unless whoever took me was a monk.” She swallowed past the growing lump in her throat, eyes searching the table in front of her as she went on. “They fed me this disgusting-- I guess soup? And gave me water twice a day. They were always wearing gloves, so I don’t even know if they had long fingernails.”

Did you learn anything about your kidnapper? Any facial details, an accent, any knowledge that you can share to help police in their investigation?

Her irritability resurfaces at lightning speed as she realizes how little she’s being listened to. A spark of recognition lights her face up, jaw dropping as she wiped her cheeks in a fervor. “Wait, no, I remember it. I remember everything.” Shaking hands ushered for the detective to grab her pen and paper. “Write this down, hurry-- before I forget again.” Rosa nods to herself as she begins to recount everything she knows. “It was a man, stocky build. He had white hair, and… it was spiky. A dark goatee, with a little light patch right in the middle. I couldn’t see his eyes, because he was wearing these thin, plastic, black sunglasses.” She clapped once, as if in celebration. “And every time he came to give me food, he pulled my headphones off just enough for me to hear him scream FLAVORTOWN! as he poured it down my throat.”

“Oh, wait, that’s Guy Fieri. I guess I didn’t miraculously remember anything since the last time I answered that, two minutes ago.”

Were you aware of any of the other kidnap victims when you were taken? Do you have any information or insight into the death of Nathaniel Ballantyne?

“I thought I was the only one until I heard people talking about the others. I had no idea there were more of us. I don’t even know if we were in the same place.” She stands up with her shoulders straight, the clothes she’d tried to sleep in still hanging freely off her figure. “As fun as this was, I’m going to go back to bed and do my very best to remember every detail of my excruciating days in hell so you can ultimately waste it on your corkboard and red string investigative approach. See you when the next round of people die, yeah?” With that, she takes her graceful leave.