Living With My Enemy

Chapter 4

          It was a long way to the police station. The whole situation was just unbelievable. Coming from a shy person like me, I wanted this private. But knowing society, the video probably was posted online, and making its way to a newscast. My parents didn't even know yet, what if they saw those videos? They would be terrified, and my father would be upset if I even shopped at Abercrombie. He thought it was for "rich, snotty girls who show too much skin". I've always been that girl who's never gone to parties, had long sleeve dresses, and wore nerdy glasses before I was allowed to wear contacts. I've never had freedom. My parents would somehow find a way to blame me for what happened.

          The police car turned into a large brick building, a building that my parents said I should feel ashamed if I ended up in. As I hopped out of the car with my head down, out of the corner of my eye, I saw newscasters pointing cameras. Stupid internet.

"Clearly the footage was released without permission" the policeman said.

No shit Sherlock, I thought to myself. I walked inside the doors, and was brought to a small office room. The room had brick walls, and was dark with only one old fluorescent light. It made me feel like the criminal. From there, we were questioned. With every question, it felt like I was the person who was pleaded guilty of something. It was a long 40 minutes of constant questions being thrown in my face, but I tried to answer them in my best ability. When we walked out, I saw my two parents standing with their arms crossed near the entrance.

"Samantha, there you are!" My mother said speed walking towards me. "Are you hurt?"

I shook my head.

"That's good. But do you see this crowd!" She pointed angrily at the window. We saw a mob of reporters waiting for me to walk outside. "They all want to interview us."

"Im sorry" I started, "I..I didn't know it would've been such a big deal"

"Well it is. Mostly because that girl was a criminal on the loose. Her brother mysteriously died two years ago, and police are now assuming she killed him"

I gasped. That was horrible. What if it went any further? Would I have been her next victim? Scary thoughts started in my head, but I pushed them away as my father stepped in. He looked straight at Jeremy, and shook his head.

"I gave you the chance young man, to live in my home. Now you want to spend my daughters money? Plus, who even was that girl, and why did you have a connection to her?"

          This couldn't be happening. What if Jeremy witnessed the murder, and even worse, helped? He would go to jail. I would loose the one person who I actually might have a future with. I needed to go home, and rest. Today was already too much for me.

"I need to go home" I mumbled. Tears started forming, I scared nor sad. I had been though worse things in life. I was just overwhelmed.

         My mom took my arm and pulled me out of the building. I was bombarded with flashing cameras and news reporters filming me. We rushed to our Honda Pilot, and shut the door. This is crazy. She stepped on the gas, and we drove home as fast as we could. I was deep in thought, imagining what my father is saying to him. He stayed at the station with Jeremy. Finally, after a long car ride, my mom sighed and looked at me.

"You are in to Jeremy aren't you?" She asked.

"Well-" I started to say, but she interrupted.

"Your too young to have a boyfriend, Samantha. Your father is not happy"

"We aren't anything serious!" I yelled.

"Yes, but you are teenagers! You know what this will turn in to. You will get hooked on each other. What if you two are alone with each other? We can't trust that."

"We won't do anything mom!" Lie. "Why can't you people just trust me for once?"

"I don't know. It's your father. Believe me Samantha, I want to trust you. But that man..."

"That man was a mistake, mom. I'm sick of being his slave"

My mother sighed, and looked at me with tears in her eyes. Ever since I was born, my father has been brutal to his family. My mother knew she wasn't happy with him.

"You're not happy with him, mom" I said.

"I have enough to worry about right now, and I don't want to focus on him" mom started, "like the fact that you are in love with someone who might have helped in a murder"

We pulled into the driveway. The moment my mom opened the front door, I ran to my room. I plopped myself on the bed and cried. Too much was going on. I am not an emotional person, but I just couldn't process the fact that I was living with a possible murderer.