Chapter 5 - The Fractured Mind
The interrogation room at the Central Police District was sterile, windowless, and smelled of stale coffee and industrial floor wax.
Victoria sat at the stainless-steel table, her hands cuffed together in front of her. The brilliant crimson dress looked absurdly out of place under the harsh, humming fluorescent strips above. Her dark hair was a tangled nest, falling over her face, but her expression had shifted again. The manic rage was gone, replaced by a eerie, serene lucidity that was far more disturbing.
Detective Marcus Mercer, a veteran investigator with tired eyes and a heavy trench coat, sat across from her. He dropped a heavy Manila folder onto the table between them.
"The medical report from the scene is pretty damning, Victoria," Mercer said, leaning his elbows on the table. "You used a stolen master keycard to bypass security. You brought an illegal expandable steel baton into the building. You severely injured Sarah Jenkins and assaulted your own daughter."
Victoria tilted her head, a soft, pleasant smile playing on her lips. "Assaulted? You use such crude words, Detective."
"What would you call beating an eight-year-old child with a deadly weapon?" Mercer asked, his voice hardening.
"I was saving her," Victoria replied smoothly, her voice light, as if discussing the afternoon weather. "Julian thinks he can build a fortress out of glass and money and raise my daughter to be an empty doll just like him. That blonde woman... she’s an imposter. She sleeps in my husband's mind. She touches my daughter's hair. They were turning Lily into a stranger."
Mercer squinted at her. "So your solution was to crack the child's face open?"
Victoria’s smile vanished instantly. Her eyes narrowed into dark, vacant slits. "Pain wakes people up, Detective. Pain is real. In that glass building, nothing is real. Julian lives in a fantasy where he controls everything. I just wanted to break his windows."
The heavy metal door of the interrogation room clicked open. Julian stepped inside, accompanied by a police lawyer. He had changed into a dark coat, his face pale and drawn, his jaw set like granite.
Victoria looked up, and her serene smile returned, wider and more chilling than before.
"Hello, Julian," she cooed. "Did you like my gift? Did you see how fragile your little world is?"
Julian walked slowly to the table. He didn't look at Detective Mercer. He didn't sit down. He leaned over the table, placing his hands flat on the stainless steel, hovering mere inches from his wife's face.
"You're going to a maximum-security state psychiatric facility, Victoria," Julian said, his voice dangerously low, stripped of all emotion. "Not a private retreat. Not a luxury clinic. You will spend the rest of your life behind real steel doors, surrounded by real concrete walls."
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Victoria’s smile twitched, a hairline fracture appearing in her delusional facade. "You can't keep me away from her. I am her mother. My blood runs through her veins!"
"No," Julian whispered, leaning in closer. "Your blood was on the floor today. And I’m going to spend every day of the rest of my life scrubbing it out."
