Gunner wiped the blood off her nose with the wrists bound together. The metal of the handcuffs dug into her wrists uncomfortably. Gunner didn't get caught, she just turned herself in. She said to herself that she was sick and tired of her life, she was addicted to the thrill of robbing banks. She needed someone more powerful than her to make her stop.

Gunner was so caught up in her gig that she didn't realize the notoriety she gained. Gunner had robbed around 45 banks over the past decade.

To avoid getting caught, Gunner gave half of the money she stole to a guy called Zero and he took care of it from there. He'd be upset to hear that Gunner got "caught" but she needed to look out for herself this time.

The door opened and a police officer came in with a cup of coffee and sat down in the metal chair across from Gunner. He flicked on the overhead light that leaned a little too blue for Gunner's liking.

"So, let's start from the beginning shall we?" he asked. "Where was the first bank you robbed?"

Gunner pondered for a moment. "Seattle, Union square near Pike place market."

"That checks out with the start of the string of bank robberies you've committed," the officer remarked. "Now tell me, why do you want to rob banks?"

"I truly have no idea, it's not that I'm desperate because I could stop robbing banks and get an honest job and make money. I went to college and I otherwise don't have a criminal record. I guess the thrill of robbing banks is what I am attracted to, maybe it's that I want to prove a point though I'm not sure what that point is."

"Uh-huh." The officer nodded. "What was your childhood like?"

This question caused Gunner to jolt in her seat, the raw skin of her wrists strained against the metal painfully. The officer flinched a little bit and gave her a weird look.

Gunner made a sound of disgust. "Do we have to?"

"Well, not really but in this case, we submit these notes to psychologists to see if you are fit for mental treatment, so I suggest you talk."

Gunner knew that if she spoke, her sentence might lighten up.

"My childhood was, interesting I guess. My parents were married throughout my childhood so there were no divorce issues. My mom was amazing, she was fine no source of trauma there. I haven't talked to her in fifteen years but I guess it's my fault. She called me every day to check up on me then ten years ago I stopped answering. She kept calling and calling for two years, hoping I'd pick up and one day she stopped. I think she assumed I was dead, or maybe she died."

A shiver ran down Gunner's spine at the thought. She hadn't stopped to consider if her mom had died, she was too caught up in planning the next robbery. She was starting to think robbing banks was her addiction as well as her distraction.

"Well I have no idea if she died, I sure hope not she's probably like 70 years old right now, she made the best chocolate rum cake ever, it was so moist and delicious-"

"You talk an awful lot about your mom, what about your dad? You said they stayed married so you must have lived with your dad as well," the officer interrupted.

"Alright, fine if that's what you want to hear then fine," Gunner groaned childishly. "I don't know what my dad does for a living, but I know he always did motivational speeches on the weekends and taught life lessons that people already knew, they just needed to hear it from some old guy I guess. I remember attending one, and it made me so mad. I remember him saying something like 'violence is not the answer, people disagree all the time but you should never resort to violence to fix your problems."

"He preached all this nonsense that yeah I guess if he stuck to his words I wouldn't hate it as much and I wouldn't resent him as much now. He loved to go out at night and get drunk, spend the money that was supposed to be for my college tuition on beer and he'd stumble back home and yell and beat my mother. Never knew why though, there wasn't much going on in our lives that could cause him to do this, I think he just like hurting someone. I never really saw him do it, just hearing my mom's screams was enough to do it for me though."

"I'm sorry to hear that, Gunner."

Gunner grimaced at the officer. "It wasn't until I was ten when my father decided that my mom wasn't enough to take his anger out on so he resorted to the other person in his life that he should have cared about, me. I hate him, I hate him so much, not just because of what he did but because of what he said other people should do and what he did instead. He said he was doing this for my mom and me, said it was for my own good and he was preparing me for the real world. But where in the real world would I have been beaten by someone who should have cared for me?"

Gunner took a breath and tilted her head back to keep the tears welling up in her eyes at bay. "How dare he mask his violence as love? How could he justify doing this to us while he preached anti-violence outside our home to hundreds of people every weekend? They all saw him as some martyr."

"I guess my point for robbing banks is somewhere to take my anger out on, I didn't expect today to be as philosophical as it did but here you go, is that what you wanted? Me digging into the deepest darkest holes in my brain and laying it out for you so you can report to people you think can help me? I don't even know you."

"While that is true, Gunner, I must ask you these questions it isn't me who decides that," the officer said with a hint of pity.

Pity.

"I am truly sorry for what happened with your father but you have broken federal law numerous times, but thank you for complying with us."

The officer left the room, and Gunner slumped back in her seat. Now that it finally dawned on her, she was going to prison for a long time and no confession was going to lighten it up to the point that Gunner would be satisfied.

Gunner heard a faint tapping on the window and she smiled, there behind the glass was Zero with a key in his hands.