The Trapped

05

05

- S U T T E R -

11.07.16 // 2:37 a.m.

MY LEG BOUNCES up and down against the hard wooden chairs in the police station. Another form of sweat has made it's way to my forehead and slowly trickles down the side of my face. The clock ticks away on the wall. The constant tick-tock matches the beat of heart, threatening to break loose if I don't get help soon.

The police station is empty this time of night - well morning. The lights are dim and occasionally flicker on and off, creating an eerie mood.  A man steps out from his office, dressed in a sharp blue pants suit and brown church shoes. He gives me a small, sad smile before gesturing for me to come in.

I stand up and my legs shake as I walk towards the office. The man steps aside to let me in and I enter nervously. His office is small, maybe twelve by fourteen feet and a soft tune echoes throughout the small space from a speaker in the corner.

     "Take a seat," he tells me, pointing to a chair that is much like the ones in the waiting room. I sit down with shaky arms and run a hand through my hair. The man unbuttons his tuxedo, removes his jacket and takes a seat in his cushioned black chair that is across from mine.

He puts his big, round spectacles on, takes out a blue notepad and looks up at me.

"Hello, Sutter. I'm Mr. Cass. I will be taking care of this case. To start off, explain in detail what happened tonight," he says in a deep voice as he places the tip of his pen on the paper. I let out a shaky breath and place my hands on my knees and squeeze them lightly. "There is no need to be nervous, Mr. Canton, I am here to help."

I breathe slowly, in and out, and prepare myself to talk.

"Blaire and I went out tonight, at the Beverly Hills twenty and under club." Mr. Cass scribbles it down on the paper. "We were having fun, everything was great. Then, I got into a stupid argument with this kid from our school that was hitting on Blaire. The manager came out and stopped it. I was embarrassed and I kinda of zoned out, maybe it was the alcohol, I don't know. But, I ended up not seeing where Blaire went but I know she left with that stupid manager," I say.

Mr. Cass writes down the information on the paper. He then puts the pen down and rubs his temples.

"Did you happen to catch a glimpse of the manager's name?" he ask. I shake my head back and forth and he also writes that down.

He moves to his computer and begins to type on it very quickly. I try to discreetly lean over and see what he is doing, but he angles it so only his eyes can see it.

The silence stretched between us like a rubber band ready to snap. I continue to fidget with the sleeves of my shirt as Mr. Cass writes more things down. He then turns to me with a perplexed look on his face.

"Mr. Canton," he says. I raise my eyebrows at him and his eyes flicker back to the computer.

"Yes?" I ask, anxiety and hope building up in my stomach at the thought of him finding something out. Something that could lead me to Blaire.

"There is no manager at the Beverly Hills twenty and under club," he states and my stomach drops.

Oh god, Blaire.

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