The confession - Weekend freewrite

My only defense was to write down every word they said. There was no way of getting out otherwise. They'd tell me everything exactly as it had happened. From the moment I'd first met Mike to the moment the bomb went off in Park Lane.

Source

The light bulb hung above the square table started flickering. The fat man sitting in front of me didn't bother to look up. Instead, he pushed a piece of paper in front of me and an ordinary plastic pen. They wanted my handwritten confession, although, no doubt, the whole interview was being taped. But, then, they couldn't very well show it in court, could they?
They wanted my confession, to be used against Mike. I hope. They promised I'd walk away, free.

I never even liked Mike. Remember that evening at my place, when he had hit on Eloise? His hands all over her. He was half-drunk, but still. Eloise was my half-sister, but everyone thought she was my cousin. Too hard to explain our twisted family to anyone.
Maybe we've had some fun together. The incident was forgotten, but Mike always found a way to inquire about Eloise every time they met. Actually that was the first thing he'd ask - 'How's that peachy cousin of yours? Peachy? What kind of word is that, anyway?
All that talk about the system and our shitty lives and the coming revolution. Revolution, my ass!
I'll give them Mike's head on a plate if that's what it takes to get me out of here.

The whole operation had been fine-tuned the last time they saw a movie. No need to hide any details since they already knew everything.
I can't even remember why I became friends with the guy. Maybe because he was so articulate and knew how to express all the things I felt. Like he was reading my mind or something.
Of course, they needed to do something. They were the little people, the downtrodden, the 99% percent... And, he had to admit - Mike was a man of action. After all, it was Mike who got hold of the device. I only set it under the bridge.
'You got that wrong, dumbass. Did I tell you to write 'The first time I met Mike? For fuck's sake! Start again! The first time I met the man in the leather jacket. That's all you need to say about him. Got it?'
When I finished writing my hands were shaking. I was exhausted. And hungry. I couldn't go home yet, they said.
As I walked down the corridor, back to the holding area, I got a glimpse of Mike drinking coffee in the big office the investigators shared. The fat man walked up to him and handed him my written confession. They high-fived. My heart sank.

Written for the freewrite challenge created by @mariannewest!

If you want to join the freewrite community, please check her post.