The Truth Hurts

68 │silent treatment

Ding.

Paige can feel the sedative wearing off as she bats her eyes, her blurred surroundings slowly coming into focus as she gazes around to see she is in the same hospital room as earlier. Or at least it looks the same. She doesn't need to move her arms to feel that she is still restrained, the straps chaining her to each side of the bed.

Another high-pitched ding comes from the bottom shelf of one of the many cabinets near the sink and she instantly recognizes it as the notification tone she had set on her phone. It must be locked up in the bag with her belongings.

Her eyes light up as, for a brief moment, it crosses her mind that it may be Kira texting her. She pulls at the restraint on her right arm in a weak attempt to get free, giving up only after a few seconds. Then, as she fully wakes, she quickly comes to the obvious realization that it's not possible. It wasn't all just some nightmare—Kira's dead.

The latch clicks as somebody pushes open the door from the other side. She gazes over to see a nurse push the door inward, holding it open to allow Sheriff Martinez enough room to walk inside. In the hall, she can see another officer standing straight across from the doorway. The deputy must have been assigned guard duty.

"Thank you." Martinez whispers to the nurse with a slight tilt of his head.

She smiles, perhaps a little too happy to assist the officer, before slipping back into the hall and closing the door shut behind her.

Martinez turns around to see Paige, now fully conscious, and she watches him as he slowly approaches the bedside. "Hi, Ms. Turner. How are you feeling today?"

Biting his tongue, he knows immediately that—although he did it out of formality—it was a stupid question to ask. She must feel like shit.

Instead of responding, Paige turns to look at the closed blinds covering the only window in the room. Following her stare, he walks over to the window and pulls the cord dangling from the side of it, lifting up the blinds to allow the moonlight to cast upon them.

Unaware that night had already fallen, she is taken by surprise. Although her blank expression doesn't show it, as it lacks any emotion whatsoever. She realizes that, while heavily sedated, she must have slept throughout the entire day.

Taking a deep breath, he walks back to the side of the bed. Although her focus is still on the window, he continues his attempt to converse. "Ms. Turner, can you please talk to me?"

Not blinking once she continues to gaze through the glass, hoping that somehow the straps on her wrists would miraculously loosen. At this point, she wants nothing more than to open the window and feel the fresh, outside breeze up against her skin.

"Paige?" He says, hoping that addressing her by her first name would give it more of a personal touch. "I want to help you. I really do. But you have to let me know what is going on."

She still doesn't reply.

Sighing, Martinez rubs at his eyes as he thinks of a new method he could approach her with. It's either that she can't talk, her mind lurking elsewhere at the moment, or she is afraid to. Figuring that it wouldn't be easy to scrub such gruesome memories from one's mind, he's betting on the latter.

His phone vibrates from one of the pockets on the inside of his leather jacket. Looking down, he pulls out his phone to see that Millie had responded to the most recent text he sent to check up on her.

"He's getting revenge." Her dull eyes continue to stare at the glass, now focusing on her own reflection glaring back from just above the window seal. Part of her feels as if she is talking to herself. "For what we did to him."

Martinez turns to her attentively, shoving the phone back into his pocket. "Who? Who is getting revenge?"

"Garrett."

"Garrett O'Neil?"

She doesn't respond... and she doesn't need to. Of course she is referring to Garrett O'Neil. Ever since Martinez has been working this case, he's had a sneaking suspicion that there was more to the kid than what met the eye. But deep down, in his gut, he doesn't think that he is capable of murder. At least not physically, considering the weakened state he last saw him in. But he could definitely be an accomplice. Or, worse, another target.

At this point, Martinez knows better than to rule any possibilities out.

"Who is we?" He takes a step forward, wanting more answers. "What did y'all do to him?"

Paige's head slowly turns to face him, her eyelids fluttering as it takes a moment to distinguish the full outline of his figure. Although alert, she can feel the drowsy aftereffect of the drug still taking a heavy toll on her mentality. She takes a moment to fully gather her thoughts before speaking, figuring that if she is going to finally tell someone the truth—she should tell it right.

She starts from the beginning. "The bus... He wasn't the one driving."

♫ sᴇᴄʀᴇᴛs / ᴏɴᴇʀᴇᴘᴜʙʟɪᴄ ♫