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"anger is fake power. we don't actually control anyone with anger. when we choose to use anger it ends up controlling us" -anonymous
song to listen to: the man who sold the world by nirvana
warnings: breakdowns, heavy swearing, mentions of death, mentions of violence, mentions of weapons, screaming, verbal intense arguments
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"The date is Sunday, October second, nineteen-ninety-four. This is an interview with Jennifer Peters." Sheriff Nick Goode spoke to the recorder, but his eyes never broke contact with my own. "Wanna tell me what happened?"
"We were picking up Sam's prescription." I explained the coveted lie to a T, keeping the anger boiling below. "And uh...the lights went out, it was pitch black. I couldn't see anything, none of us could, we all were screaming. It was chaos. We ducked behind a counter, just hid until it was over."
"Right, and where'd you get that gash on your leg?" He carelessly motioned towards my leg, and I just shrugged.
"I fell on some glass."
Silence followed; I got uncomfortable and shifted my position.
"I'll tell you what the facts tell me," Nick shifted his position as well. "The junkies-"
"Don't fucking call them that." I instantly got defensive; the anger was no longer boiling below-it was spilling over. "They weren't junkies. Their names were Kate Schmidt and Simon Kalivoda. Simon was my boyfriend, and Kate was about to be my girlfriend-"
"They're to blame...for everything. That feels too easy to me. But that's the story this department will go with unless you can help me see it differently."
"Help you see it differently? Alright, yeah...yeah I can do that. Kate's brains were spewed across the bakery after her head got put through a fucking breadslicer, and I watched Simon's life leave his eyes as his head was hacked into by an axe-"
"An axe? Miss Peters, you never brought up an axe before-"
"You and me have the same limp from the same axe. You know what's going on here, asshole. Call Auntie Z, call Auntie M, go to Aunt C's fucking grave if you have to, but they'll get to tell you the same thing. It's the witch. It's the fucking witch. You know what happens, but all you want is a story that the rest of Shadyside and Sunnyvale to believe in. Another story for you to be the hero of. Just another news report that you get to answer all the questions for, right-"
"Alright, Jen, that's enough." He raised out of his seat, and the second he clicked the stop button on the recorder, I laughed.
"What, don't want anybody hearing the truth? Simon has been supporting his family by himself since he was fifteen years old, Kate had dreams of getting out of Shadyside since day one. And what, you're gonna blame them for each other's murders? What sort of fucking closure is that?! How the hell do you sleep at night?!" I raised my voice, slamming both hands down on the desk. "What the fuck is wrong with you?!"
"Jen, I understand that you're upset-"
"No, don't say that, because all you 'understand' is that it fits the goddamn narrative. As long as it fits the narrative." My voice broke, I slumped back in the chair with my arms crossed.
"You came here for my help," Nick's voice was different again. "I should have listened to you, Jen, I'm so sorry. I need to give a cover story, because if the Sheriff of East Union starts to give explanations of murders by saying the witch is real, it won't read too well. And unless you can give me a better one, that's the only cover I'm gonna wind up giving to the press."
"You know what, give them whatever cover you want. But we both know the truth here, and so does my father. He'll come for you when I can't, and you'll be sucking his dick before you make another phony cover story. D'you understand?"
I didn't need an answer from him, I knew he got what I was saying. I stormed out of the interrogation room, gave a sarcastic salute to Sam, Deena, and Josh, and walked right out.
"I fucking hate this town," I muttered the same thing I'd said to myself two days before, only this time it had much more meaning that it used to.
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this is probably the shortest chapter from all of traitor, but i made promises to myself so just deal with it
we're so close to 1666, it scares me
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