In your nightmares

Chapter 9

Hi guys!!!!! This chapter is dedicated to Beyondthesilvermoon for her helpful comments on chapters and for voting loads!! Thank you beyondthesilvermoon! Oh and sorry about the long wait; I've been really busy!

Sooooo, long one that you all deserve! It was 3 pages on word! Pleeeeeeaaaassssseeeee vote, comment and fan. Pretty pwease wiv a chewy on top?? ;} Oh and I don't know when I'll next update; I'm going away for all of next week so.......mmmm enjoy this chapter and read it twice!! ;) And you may have noticed that there are less chapters now, well some of them were too short so I decided to 'mush' them together ;)

Ps: I'm trying really hard not to make this story cliché but trust me, you don't know what's going to happen in the next few chapters! (Well neither do I but I have some ideas ;)

Oh and from now on, I'm going to try and keep it to one P.O.V. per chapter. xx ;-} ] And I've never been to a police interview (luckily) so this is all made up and I hope it's realistic.

Enough with the blabbing, so yeah, on with the story....

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Emma's P.O.V.

My butt was freezing. I know I shouldn't be worrying about that now but seriously, I swear the cold, metal chair had ice glued on to it (and somehow wasn't melting). Even my crop-jean-trousers (cut at the middle of my calf) couldn't keep out the coldness seeping through. I shifted nervously.

My dad, glancing my way whispered "Are you ok love? You look dreadfully pale."

"Let me assess the situation," I replied, trying not to be mean because none of this was his fault.

"I am in a police station waiting for who knows how long for someone to appear. They are going to interrogate me and ask me all sorts of questions that I can't answer. Furthermore, a boy that I don't even know (despite the fact I like him I added silently) has ended up in hospital in the 'emergency surgery' department. Oh and plus my bum is absolutely freezing because for some reason, the maker of these chairs seemed to have forgotten that you sit on them and has forgot the comfortable padding."

So much for not being mean/ sarcastic I thought.

My dad just frowned.

"Oh yeah," he said dismally, "I forgot never to ask if you're ok."

At once I felt guilty. None of this was his fault.

"I'm sorry dad." I groaned and put my head in my hands. "I'm just tired, confused and exhausted."

"I gathered." My dad gave me a watery smile. "I hope you know that none of this is your fault."

I sighed. "Yeah, but somehow I feel as if it is."

My dad rubbed my back soothingly and was opening his mouth to reply when a police officer stepped in.

"Mr and Miss Brook?"

We stood up.

"That's us." My dad replied, trying to sound brave but the lack of colour in his face told me he was just as nervous as I was.

"Please come this way." The women (for that's what the police officer was) smiled but it was too professional and too forced. The smile didn't reach her eyes which were devoid of any kindness. Her uniform was sharp and crisp, not a hair out of place from a tight bun in which chestnut-coloured hair was forced to be wrapped in, a bit below the top of her head.

We followed her down a corridor, which was white, past doors labelled with signs I couldn't be bothered to read (which were also white) and eventually down some stairs and into a darkened room, which I was sure wasn't white!

"Take a seat." That clean, precise, professional voice tugged me from my thoughts.

Looking around, I realised that there were two (thankfully padded) seats opposite a see-through screen and one chair behind that in which the officer sat. Opening her mouth, which had the perfect amount of red lipstick on, she began.

"Look, let this be a quick, proficient interview and get it done as quickly and as smoothly as possible," Something told me that this women was slightly (and only slightly!) like me. She liked things to be organized and controlled and the word 'spontaneous' was not in her vocabulary. Things had to be planned at least a week in advance. Nodding, I prepared myself as she glanced quickly at her clipboard.

"You were sighted at the scene of the crime, kneeling over the victim....."

At this my head racked up: "Have you heard anything about him? Is he okay. What will happen to him? Was he in surgery?" My brain interrupted her and fired these questions before I could stop. I don't know why I was so interested; after all, I hardly knew the chap but maybe I was just being concerned, like any normal person would be.

"Miss Brook, I would have you know that that is classified information," The women stated, looking quite annoyed but she soon replaced the look with an expressionless face, a poker face (I've never played poker but I'm guessing that was hers because she wasn't revealing anything.)

"Mr Heathons's health rate is private and anyway, no I haven't heard anything about him. Moving on, do you know what happened to the boy?"

"No," My dad answered before I could even open my mouth to speak.

At least I don't......" he trailed off, looking uncertainly at me.

I frowned, "No of course not but he was bleeding when we got to him." I wondered if I should tell her about the note but I figured the police would investigate and find it anyhow, it wasn't my business.

"Are you related in any way at all to the boy or are you just friends?"

"Neither, I replied. I don't know him."

"Then why were you at the scene of the crime?" Came the reply.

"Well loads of people were," I faltered. "We just happened to be the only ones who actually thought to call the police and stay by him."

"For your information, Miss Brook, the police received around sixteen calls from that area at that time about the same thing. You just happened to be the second caller."

"What do you mean, second caller?" I asked, curiously.

"Mr Heathon was the first however, he only managed a few gurgles before the line went dead. We were tracking the signal and by the time you called a team were on their way but the information and the way you gave it was credible." She didn't smile after that sentence, just kept the emotionless face, I wish it would break because it wasn't making me feel any better.

"Next question. At exactly what time did you arrive at the scene, who whith and with what mode of transport?"

"I was in the car with my dad," I said hoarsely. "We arrived around......" I glanced at my dad for conformation "....8:30." He nodded, briefly and there was a tender look in his eyes, he grasped my hand which gave me a little comfort."

We were asked a few more questions before being lead out, walking through the vast areas of white, I could barely remember one of them. The officer abruptly came to a stop and I almost crashed into her, had my reflexes not taken over.

"You are free to go now. We will update you on Mr Heathon's health some time in the next week. The best thing for you to do now is to go home and rest. Oh and it's probably a good thing to forget this incident; it should save you a lot of trouble." She added.

Yeah right. I though. What normal person would forget this? My dad slipped is arm around me as we stepped outside.

"It's quite an ordeal honey. You are coping really well." He said, gently.

"Thanks." I muttered, not being able to muster up enough strength to elaborate."

"Let's order a takeaway tonight eh? That way I'll get my chicken tikka!"

This bought a weak smile to my lips. I was glad that my family supported me, no matter the circumstances.