Contrasting Reality
“Jeffrey Epstein”
“Lena Harris”
That was a lie. I don’t really look like a Lena, but I wasn’t about to give this guy my real name. Even if he was only hours away from being arrested.
I’m not stupid, nor am I ignorant, although there are many points in my life wherein I would have preferred to be in blissful ignorance. At this moment, however, all the what ifs are insignificant; they won’t be of any use to me. Its times like these that I wish I had put my phone in my pocket, instead of on the bed. It’s comparatively old fashioned, an iPhone 10, and nobody would bat an eyelash at it. Yet all I have on me are dainty fabrics, a sweater and jersey shorts, something that I cant’t expect fingerprints to be found on, and a ball-point pen in my pocket. It’s probably still better than nothing. Worst case scenario, that pen could be used as a weapon. I think.
“So, is this your first time on a first class seat?” He stared explicitly at my clothing and scoffed.
“Nope. Third time. Mileage plans are quite cost-effective.”
No need to lie here. I stared out the window in hope that the conversation would end, and it did. The silence was even worse, and my nerves were frayed to its limits.
How much more time must I wait until we land? Hours? Minutes? Seconds would be preferable but my luck isn’t that reliable.
…42 minutes? What? 42? That long? I have to sit and suffer in silence with a man convicted of sexual assaul…
No, no calm down. I may be stuck on an airborne closed space with a man who should have long since left this earth, but as stuck as I may be, he too is the same. I can’t escape; well, I could try but that would be all too suspicious. I wouldn’t have believed that a day would come when I preferred the cramped seating of the economy class, where someone, other than this guy, would be next to me, but today’s that day. Sweat is rolling down my arms in droves, and the state of my hands are even worse; the plastic pages of the magazine touting fake stories in hopes of profit are becoming see-through by the minute. He can sense my fear; I know that he can.
23 minutes. 23 more minutes till I’m either free or dead. 23…22…
At this point I’m not sure if that’s short or long. Perhaps the silence had driven me insane, but the fact that He will find himself behind bars is set in stone, and so too is his fated end. I live in a time far passed that period, yet I find myself here. Those theories of time paradoxes and whatnot gives me enough hope that I’ll make it out of here alive.
Thoughts of well-sought retribution filtered through my head; the nausea and oppressed rage upon hearing of this man’s crimes cried for punishment, yet what was I to do? Young I may be, but there was no way that I, whose daily exercise consisted of consisted of walking to the nearest Starbucks, could outmatch him in physical strength. Intellectually? Because of course, a commoner can stand up to a business tycoon with plenty of connections; it's not like I would get erased both socially and physically the instant I tried, no not at all. If being convicted as a sex offender couldn’t stop this man from getting an extensive work release even while imprisoned, then I don’t know what would.
10 minutes…10 minutes left.
The plane had long since began its descent, and its extremely likely that once I set a foot off of this aircraft, I would be right back in my air-conditioned room. Curiosity had, in the end, gotten the best of me; what could be more thrilling than asking a man, a man who would be buried deep underground back in my time, a question that only I would learn the answer to?
So I asked.
“Do you actually have an escape plan, or do you honestly believe that your connections would protect you? Because as far as I know, people love their reputations, and so far you’ve been doing nothing but dirtying that, so I wouldn’t be surprised if they cut ties with you.”
Perhaps that may have been a bit too blunt. But as they say, time is money, and I’ve been wasting it shivering in fear. Might as well make the best of it.
“No, not connections, not at all. You’re getting it all wrong, honey. Money is what got me the connections, and those I can get back easily. You see all those people back in the economy class? Pasting on smiles on their faces and laughing, as if what they have is enough for them.
Cowards.
Those that don’t have money are cowards, the lot of them. Too afraid and too subservient to what society tells them, and hanging on for dear life on something that wouldn’t last.
You see my business? My business that society says is ‘evil’? It’s what got me the most money, and that says it all.
As long as the people, the rich and the famous, want something that’s forbidden, I’ll always have a way out.”
Well, I’ll say, tell that to your rotting corpse just a month from now. Cause I’m pretty sure, as long as that death wasn’t faked, that you didn’t find your way out.
Thoughts of the impending arrest blew through my mind as I walked down the aisle.
With relief at the landing plane, and satisfaction at having a question answered, I stepped off the plane.
The last thing I saw was the gray carpet floor, then black.