The threat hangs between us, heavy and ominous. In the detective’s eyes, I see every accusation ever hurled my way, every doubting gaze, every hand raised in anger. Here, in the supposed sanctuary of the law, I’m not protected. In this building, there are only more monsters, hiding behind badges.
I drop my head, my hair falling around my face, some of it dipping into the second cup of now-cold coffee. "It was monsters."
I hate this, I hate them, I hate that I can’t come up with a lie that will satisfy them.
Officer Martinez pushes his chair back with a teeth-rattling scrape. "Well, Han, looks like it’s time to help Ms. Evie with herproblem."
Han’s smile is mostly grimace as they pick up their files to clear out. "I’ll make the call."
As they exit, leaving me alone with my thoughts and fears, a dark rage rises within me and threatens to consume me.
If I were a monster, I would make them pay for their injustice. But I am not, and so I am left helpless in their hands, trapped in a cage with no escape. The despair is suffocating as bile crawls up my throat.
I am at their mercy now, and there is nothing I can do about it.
Guilt As A Second Skin
Hours pass by with sick anticipation, pain cramping my butt that’s been frozen on the cold metal chair of the interrogation room for God knows how long.
My heart pounds in my throat, and cold sweat sticks to my hairline, turning it into even more of a greasy mess.
I wait for the cops to come slap cold cuffs around my wrists.
I wait for the men in white to come drag me to an institution and force pills down my throat until I don’t know which way is up.
I wait, not knowing if Miguel is dead, or if Shadow is okay.
Every time I close my eyes, I see Shadow’s horns elongate before my eyes with a menacing sharpness that glints in the faint light. His skin thickening with leathery scales. The claws that were already sharp becoming lethal razor blades ready to tear through anything that stands in their way. His tentacles multiplying as they slither and coil around his body like snakes. And his eyes, no longer the color of hellfire but obsidian pools of rage and hatred.
The first time he looked over at me, his gaze was filled with an intensity I've never seen before, and it sent a shiver down my spine.
I know this Shadow is different. Something has changed inside him yet again—something far more dangerous than before.
And I now worry. Am I in danger of losing him in a totally new way?
When the door opens, I’m almost relieved to find out whatever shitty fate I’m about to be thrust into because the uncertainty has turned my entire body into cramped knots.
"You’re free to go," Martinez says, sweeping a file out the door, not meeting my eye.
I don’t move for a minute.
The officer looks at me then, with thinly veiled annoyance. "Did you hear me? It’s time for you to go."
As I walk on numb legs, I feel the gaze of the other cops. Their expressions are dark and uncertain.
They don’t want to let me go.
So why did they?
As I walk through the precinct, I see a number of people I recognize from the restaurant during the attack. Their faces are heavy, haunted, still terrorized by what they saw.
I realize that though I’ve told this story before, the cops can’t discount a number of unrelated witnesses crying monster. Then there is the unidentified green glop that still probably covers the restaurant. The cops don’t have any reason to hold me.
They wish they could though, because I’m the closest thing to a link they have.
The girl of monsters and carnage.
When I get out, I find a dozen text messages from Helena. She’s already at the hospital. Her texts fall apart into barely comprehendible strings of panic. I want to go to the hospital, but I don’t. It’s packed with his family, and if I go, they will demand answers from me. Answers I either can’t give, or they won’t like.
