I could have sworn that the interview room I'd been in as a child had been dark except for one light. It was like my fear had injected the memory with darkness like leaking tendrils of thick ink. I'd combined scary scenes from movies and TV shows with my real memories, and now that I was in an actual interview room, I realized that keeping them dark would make no sense.
But it was still too small. Too bright. Somehow exposed and claustrophobic at the same time and closing in on me slowly. My cute summer dress wasn't warm enough for the aggressive A/C, and I sat with my arms folded tightly in front of me. I tried torepeat to myself that I was innocent, that they would ask a few questions, realize it was a mistake, and let me go.
Except, how would I explain the abandoned, stolen vehicle in my driveway? I couldn't tell them that some mysterious bad guys stole it so they could sneak onto my property to steal my blood.
Oh, God.
The door opened, and I jumped, my spine going ramrod straight. It was the petite woman with her sleek black bun and hard eyes who entered. She gave me a fast, tight smile. "Sorry about the wait. Do you need anything to drink?" Her eyes strayed down my dress, and I followed her line of sight. My dress was dirty, ripped in places, and I'd lost several buttons along my midsection. I had welts on my wrists still, and there were obvious bruises and cuts down my legs. I looked a little… crazy.
"I'm good," I croaked.
"Like I said, I really am sorry about the wait. This shouldn't take too long." She sat down with a small file and held out her hand. "I'm Naya, by the way."
I shook her hand, and to my utter humiliation, my hand shook. "Evie."
"Evie," she confirmed. "Okay, so we just want to clear up a few things if that's alright." She flipped open the file and looked at what looked like a written report. "On April 14, at approximately seven in the morning, one of our officers responded to an anonymous call that directed us to a stolen vehicle on the edge of your property. It was reported stolen the evening before, April 13, at eight forty-nine." She looked up expectantly. "Does any of this sound familiar to you?"
I shook my head, my mouth dry. "It doesn't."
She didn't seem surprised by my answer. Turning the page, she said, "Then, today, at eleven forty-eight in the morning, we received a nine-one-one call from a small girl who claimed that there was a suspicious intruder at her house with a weapon." Shewatched me for reactions again, and I did my best not to give her any. Her eyebrows drifted up. "Doesthatsound familiar?"
I licked dry lips. "Tessa gets… agitated. She has an imagination."
Her eyebrows really were so expressive. They contracted together with a touch of incredulity. "Can you see why those two incidents, back to back, might seem a little strange?"
I wasn't cold anymore. I was too warm, sweating under my arms and dragging air in like it was made of seawater. My heart roared in my ears, and I looked down at my clenched hands in my lap. I had to calm down. I had to help them shrug this off. "I can see why, yes," I managed. Anyone else in this seat would be nonchalant. Annoyed, even. I hadn't done anything wrong. I hadn't committed any crimes. Anyone else would have brushed this off and answered questions and then waltzed out.
I was a statue. I was a pillar of salt and fear and memories. Ilookedguilty, and it had nothing to do with the officer. It had everything to do with my own goddamn brain. My own deeply seated fears I'd never bothered to fully face. What was all that garbage I'd told Frost when I'd been consoling him over his painful memories? Everyone deserved comfort? I was the worst kind of hypocrite. What if they charged me for theft? I knew the men who'd taken the car probably hadn't left any evidence behind.
I felt nauseated, suddenly.
"Miss Hathaway," Naya said with a touch of authority. "Can you help me understand how the stolen vehicle ended up on your property?"
I shook my head, barely able to formulate words. "I can't."
"You can't explain it or you can't help me?" she insisted.
This was getting worse. I was making it worse. I shook out my hands, cracking my knuckles. I couldn't look her in the eye anymore. "I think it's a coincidence. I'm s-sorry."
"You're sorry for what?" she asked sharply.
Why did I apologize? I'm going to jail. I am. They're going to pin this on me because I look like a guilty lunatic."I-I don't know."
"Evie, help me out here," she said again. "Is there someone in your home who's hurting you? Hurting your child?"
"She's my cousin," I replied breathlessly.
Naya paused. "Your cousin. Is there someone hurting your cousin? Is there a reason she would call for help?"
"No," I choked out. It sounded like a lie. I was done for. This was it. They were going to lock me away forever, far from Nan and Tessa, far from flowers and bees. Far from…
Benjamin.
Tears welled up in my throat. How could I miss someone who had never been mine to begin with? Oh, but I did. I didn't just miss him; I was starved for him. I was wasting away without his teasing, without his all-enveloping hugs, without his gentle laughter. I was emaciated with longing for him, and in that moment, I would have given anything to see him one more time.
"Okay, let's kind of rewind a little," Naya said, and I heard the odd mix of compassion and stern irritation in her tone. "Tell me about you. You live with your cousin and your… grandmother?"
I couldn't do this anymore. I looked up, and the room seemed so much smaller. Darker. The flickering light overhead didn't register anymore. I sipped in frantic breaths and my brain reeled. Like my head was in a bowl of soup, I heard Naya asking if I was alright, if I needed water.
