Interrogation

I look at the ground,

at the sky,

at the back of my reddened eyelids.

Anywhere but in your eyes.

Your accusation hangs in the air like a sharpened sword between us,

each word jabs at my chest

trying to pierce the icy bubble around my heart.

My frosted protection is chipped away,

thawing and weakening.

My useless lump of muscle ricochets in an unnatural rhythm against my ribs.

The veins in my arms strain proud,

Although...pride is a laughable concept here.

Shame, Guilt, Confusion,

those three witches, the bitches, beat me from the inside.

I look at the ground,

at the sky,

at the grubby fingernail on my left hand.

Anywhere but in your eyes.

Even under duress I cannot confess.

Your words spike through and my bubble bursts,

the ice spreads and corrupts my spine.

I reaffirm my resolution,

to deny your interrogation.

But the prolonged attack against my conscience,

makes my mouth fight against my stubbornness

I can’t take it any longer

and utter the words I can never take back.

‘I ate your last Rolo!’