Pathetically Mute isn't the truth [ON HOLD]

IIII

  IT CAUGHT ME OFF guard. I shook violently all over, vividly remembering being in such a position. I was frozen and felt the brisk cold metal of a gun on my temple. If it had a silencer, oh would I have been having a party. I realized I couldn't breathe with the man's ratty old hands on my nose and mouth, and started choking. I looked at Peter desperately for help.

  He was just standing there, his face pale and looking at the man. He took a step back and ran out of the room.

  "Oh."

  Oh is right strange man. In instinct, I move my hands quickly and grab his arm, throwing him over my tiny self. He hits the ground with a harumph, and his gun falls out of his hands. I kick the gun away and throw him on his back, getting out my handcuffs and cuff him while he strangles under my hands.

  He doesn't stop strangling under my hands, which makes it hard to cuff him, so I grab his gun and bonk him on the side of the head with the butt of the gun.

  He lays limp as his body is cuffed and unconscious. I'm also still. Breathing heavily and shaking my head to clear the thoughts. It works just a little.

  I stare at the body, then flip it. He is a man with a head of gray and balding. He wears a ratty shirt—similar to the girls that was outside and shooting at me earlier—and has surprisingly really nice shoes. His face is wrinkled and seemed to have a broken nose, or more, from his past. He looks nothing like the man in my past. Before I look in the closet, I go around and look in drawers. I only find a small note. I fold the note and put it in my pocket. I walk to the man, and drag him out. Looking for Peter in the process.

  Peter isn't inside, and I drag the body to a sturdy looking pole, and connect him there. I leave the man for the time being, and try to find a signal to call for backup from Chief. I find a signal and send the message. I look up to try to find peter.

  Peter is in the car, gathered his knees in his arms and rocks back and forth.

  I sigh. Walking towards it, he sees me and relaxes, but then tenses up again as he realized he left me.

  I decide to go with the plan that I'm pissed and hit the side of the door as I open it, scowling at him.

  He squeaks, getting out of fetal position. "I-I-I'm so sorry!" He stammers, looking at me like I will just speak up and forgive and forget. "I was scared. He reminded me of someone, and I didn't want you to die. So... So I ran."

  Wow, so logical.

  I start mouthing angry curse words, then cross my arms, shaking my head. I shove my phone in his hands and indicate that backup is on the way and I don't need Peter.

  He frowns and apologizes once again. I take my phone back.

  The boy named Peter is about a few years younger than me. I know I'm rough on the guy, but that's how I was brought out of my skin. I sat like the same as Peter once. I cringe at the thought.

  My tears are like pools, I feel like I'll just flood the car soon. I'm freaking out and I hate this, I hate this so much that I can't even move without shaking. I want to scream. I want to scream.
  Chief walks out and he looks at me with disgust. I know that look. My current therapist gave me that look. He gave me that look when I threw a book, knocked over a glass of water. He gave me that same disgusted look.
  I feel the shame shadow over me like I am the ground. I am stepped over and I feel the feet. They are jumping on me like jumping in rain puddles. I feel it.
  He walks to the side of the door and opens it. I open my mouth and try to say sorry, but to no use, I only mouth the apology.
  He relaxes his face, but looks stern at me.
  "What you saw in there is not as bad as you will see soon, if you do stay with me in this career. What that was was a deceased man and a barely alive cat. You should know that this is not as bad as you thought. You can do this; not like this though. Woman up, and come with me."

  I nod to upcoming Chief with the squad cars behind him. He steps out of his car, and walks in the cabin with a lot of other men, and they carry the now fully awake, jolting man. He yells words that are in a foreign language and point towards me. I look away at Peter.

  The sun is rising and Peter stands by my side. I look at him and he smiles softly at me. His smile grows wider as a thought occurs to him, "for some reason, it sounded like he was speaking Parseltongue. "

Him and me smiling, we go back into the bedroom with our guns and a confidence radiating from each other.

  The closet isn't that big, but I noticed that there is a hole big enough to see and hear through inside. So the man has been watching. For how long?

  My team and I throw out clothes, and dust the padlock. We give it off for evidence my team and I will conduct with later, and examine the closet more closely.

  Peter removes a dirt sock, shirt, underwear, practically a pile of smelly, moldy clothes, and a latch lays under it. We open the latch and Peter peers inside.

  "There's no one in here. The walls are white and all there is is a chair and a gray table..." Peter trails off as he looks at the details more closely.

  I'm about to throw my legs in when Chief puts a hand on my shoulder, his other squad behind him.

  "Time to go home, Lawrey. You've been here for more hours than any of us. I'll let Quentin back out there bring you home. Okay?"

  I hesitate. Peter and I just found this secret place and I'm not going to go in there? I don't move.

  "I said come on Lawrence. You're tired and you need sleep." Chief states in a more official voice.

  I sigh and nod, walking out of the house. I'm half glad to be out of there but half not. I like to be in the story, not read the clues and the documents. But it's good to get away.

  I see Quentin leaning on his cop car. His face is set toward the rising sun and I smile softly. His strong build a silhouette. He moves his fingers through his hair. His arms cross and I could hear him sigh, which relaxes even me.

  He hears my footsteps and looks over and smiles wide back at me, moving to open the passenger cop door, he bows playfully and says in a joking accent, "After you, Lawrence."

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