Brink: Chapter Two

The questioning went on for at least two hours according to Angela’s watch. It was on a cycle of them asking questions and me not being allowed to answer most of them. If I was allowed to answer it was because it was a clear yes or no answer with a non-incriminating answer.

“What were you doing at the Sunnydale gas station at 11:25 PM on October 15, 2015?”

Detective Maden’s eyes pierced into me and it felt like he could see into my soul. It felt like he was trying to peel me apart piece by piece to understand something that wasn’t his to understand.

It felt like he was prying and it made me sweat.

“Josey...please answer the question.” His icy dark blue-grey eyes held my brown ones in a way that was almost against my will. His fingers moved up and down making a soft sound as they hit the table again...

.....and again

......and again.

I felt my already present headache increase to a pressure that almost made me want to cry. Sweat slid down my forehead and into my eyes making my sight momentarily hazy as tears flooded my eyes and slid down my cheeks.

God this must look so bad. I probably look so damn guilty.

My temples throbbed as blood rushed to my head making me feel even worse.

I knew what Angela wanted me to say before she ever shook her head.

“I'm not going to answer that.” I could have found a better way to say that but it has already been said and there is no going back. Angela should have said it and used all of her lawery words to make it sound...more...professional? Put together. Like I’m not a giant fumbling fool who can’t make a elegant sentence.

Can a sentence even be elegant? Is it more correct to say that she could have made the sentence flow better? Does that even convey the same things I was trying to convey with elegant? With the word elegant not just the concept of something being elegant. What is the concept of something being elegant? Is it like

“Josey!” A few quick snaps and a shout dragged me out of my head and back into the cold interrogation room.

“Yes,” My voice sounded weird to me. Like it came from someone else. It didn’t sound how I think that I sound. I sounded hoarse and quiet but at the same time too loud for a room that was so quiet.

“Would it be appropriate to call Marcus LeShae your boyfriend? Would it be correct to say that you two have been together for about two years and some months?” Detective Kielan had set her pen down to push a cup of water over to me as she asked me what should have been two simple questions.

Simple questions have simple answers right?...right.

“Yes it would be appropriate to call Marcus my boyfriend and we have been dating for two years and by tomorrow, five months.” The answer flew out my face before Angela was even able to motion to me whether or not I should answer this question.

It was a simple question with a clear answer.

I just didn’t want to know what their follow up was going to be now that they had this information.

Luckily I didn’t have to find out because Angela cut Detective Maden off before he even had something to cut off.

“My client has been here for over two hours and you haven’t shown that you have any information worth keeping her here overnight so I am going to politely ask you to let us leave and if you don’t let us...” She paused to glare into the eyes of both detectives, "I’ll be taking this into court before you have any reason for us to need to be there other than that you think she might maybe have something to do with something you obviously aren’t sure even happened.”

Even though she had stood up I couldn’t bring myself to move. It felt like I had weights holding my feet to the floor and on top of that, I was pretty sure if I stood up I would puke so I was pretty thankful for the weights so I wouldn’t rush to my feet in my eagerness to leave the cold concrete room filled with traps.

“It seems that your client does not agree with your decision.” Detective Maden broke eye contact with Angela to give me a look at observation.

I was soon taller than he was as my legs rose up from a seat on their own violation because I was sure as hell that I didn’t want to get up till I was sure I wouldn’t puke all over the tile floor. However, if you were going to puke on the floor tile would be the best surface to puke on. Then hardwood, then cement and never puke on carpets because if you feel any sympathy towards the person who’s going to have to clean that up just don’t.

This room could use a good scrub anyway. It looks like some spiders have made a home in one of the corners, the air vents are dusty and dirty, there are weird stains on the parts of the cement walls that connect with the tile. The tile alone could use a good moping. You could see the shoe prints from people who have been the room before me.

Angela’s hand was soft, and cold on my flushed, goosebumpy, and sweaty arm as she moved me towards the door further moving me away from where I felt like the rest of me must be.

It felt like I was having an out of body experience where I could see myself walking out the door, down the hallway and around the odd three desks that were set up around the benches the rest of my friends and boyfriend were sitting on. I could see myself almost yank my arm out of Angela’s hand to get her to stop for a moment while rested my hands on my legs and hung my head down. It felt like I wasn’t there and I was all at the same time.

It felt like I was rushing and I couldn’t stop spinning. My head hurt and my stomach was tying itself up in herculean knots as I looked at the floor hoping it would stop moving so much. I felt like my shirt was trying to sink into me with how close it felt, it felt like it was confining me, trapping me in my place of disarray. I couldn’t move and everything around couldn’t...wouldn’t stop moving. I need some fucking clarity. I need some space.

And why is it so damn cold in this fucking building!

A pair of dark red sneakers entered my view and I knew Marcus had made his way to me. His hand felt uncomfortably hot on my skin when I felt like I was too cold and too sweaty to be touched. It only took that little bit extra of uncomfortableness before whatever was holding back the puke went away. I jolted away from Marcus and ran to the police station’s bathroom.

I didn’t even stop to look around the bathroom. I just threw open one of the stall doors and fell to my knees next to the toilet. My stomach turned and twisted, writhed and coiled as I looked at the ripples in the water that were formed by my spit and vomit. I wanted to lay down but the last place you want to optionally lay down is on a public bathroom floor however I don’t think I can make it an entire ride back to my sister’s house....my home...

but I’m going to have to.

My murky yellow reflection stared back at me from the toilet with a look of disgust.

************

I wanted desperately to talk to Marcus but he looks quite busy with his mom as she gripped him in a hug that looked suffocating. I saw Emma being led into the interrogation room just as my vision of the rest of the station was blocked by Detective Kielan.

Her stern and suspicious face looked me up and down like I could be hiding all my untold truths on my person. Her eyes relaxed and narrowed quickly as she further observed me.

“You told us close to nothing but don’t think that just because you didn’t tell us anything that we won’t find out the truth...whatever that is.” She spoke in even tones without ever putting inflection on any of the words.

“Are you threatening me? You know that’s illegal don’t you?”

“Why would I need to threaten you?” She smirked well at least I think it was a smirk. If I’m honest it just looked like a shitty attempt at a smirk.

I felt my stomach do another turn and tie itself just a little bit tighter.

Sweat trailed down my spine in transparent rivers.

I smelled Angela’s cinnamon and raspberry perfume as she stepped up next to me and grabbed my left shoulder. Her hand fitting unevenly around me.

“My client and I will be leaving now and if I see you threatening her again I will be filing for a restraining order.”

“Don’t you think that’s a little extreme.” Detective Kielan shook her head in what looked like disbelief and amusement rolled into one with just a sprinkling of cocky bravado.

“Not at all when the person threatening my client has a gun, a taser, and a badge.” She stared Kielan down before grabbing my arm and practically dragging me towards the door.

I didn’t even get to talk to Marcus.

“You’re sister wishes to speak to you when you get home.”

Fuck...oh well...