// Chapter 20: Called in for Questioning \\
Oliver's POV
August 4th, 2014
The stench of this jail cell is more pungent that ever. 'Looks like Bob has been lax on his janitorial duties,' I think.
I rest my head against the misshapen cement wall, and stare out into the darkness. If I try hard enough, I can convince myself that this cell is never-ending, due to the fact that the darkness makes it seem that way. But I know that not even five feet in front of me is another misshapen cement wall. Closing my eyes, I replace the rusty metal bars to my right with a wall filled to the brim with family photos. A tear leaks out of my eye at the reminder of my mother who is now gone. I imagine that the wall just five feet in front of me is farther away, and that instead of spider webs and filth covering it, there is a 32" flat-screen tv playing the Cleveland Cavaliers game. I replace the bed I'm sitting on with a plush leather couch, the one that used to be in our living room. '
The new owners probably got rid of it,' my subconscious nags at me, but I hastily push it away, and continue the vision I do every night before I fall asleep. The vision I can't survive without.
On that plush leather couch, I see three figures: two brunettes and a strawberry blonde. My mom, Julia, and me. We're cheering and watching the end of the Cavs game. They're about to beat the Chicago Bulls. My mom jumps up from the couch, intensely staring at the tv screen. Her hands are tangled in her hair. "Pass the ball Lebron!" my mom yells. He does, but it's a second too late. Doug McDermott interferes and snags the ball. In my vision, my mom collapses back onto the couch and her as well as the two other figures groan and mutter complaints.
I've played this scene in my head a million times now, but what happens next is something I've never seen. I see a pudgy man, with a black cap covering his head walk stealthily into the room. He's right behind my sister, Julia, and he covers her mouth with her hand starts to drag her away. The glint of a knife in his left shoe is visible. I see myself trying to yell, but there is duct tape covering my mouth. I try to get up from the couch, but my hands and legs are somehow tied down.
I open my eyes to cut off the nightmare that my once happy vision has become. 'He's coming for her next,' I think to myself. Just as he said he would if I were to ever spill anything. I remember his visit to me a month and a half ago. 'He knew I told Leila about him.' I close my eyes and internally scream at myself for not realizing this sooner.
Julia must really be in imminent danger if I'm realizing this now. The world must be finally blessing me in some way if it's telepathically telling me this. Or cursing me because there's nothing I can do about it.
Abruptly, I stand up from my bed and pace back and forth in my cell. The gears in my brain are spinning so fast, they're on overdrive, and it causes me to ram my nose into the misshapen cement wall. I curse silently and grab my nose. When I do, I feel a warmth trickling down. I curse again.
I go back to my bed and lie down on it. I can't sleep, because that'll lead to nightmares. I can't think, because I don't want to be reminded of what happened to my mom and how it could happen to Julia as well. So my only remaining option is to clear my head. For hours, my empty eyes stare out into the black abyss.
I must've dozed off at some point, because I'm woken up to the typical banging of the patrol officer on our metal bars at 8 AM sharp. He reaches mine and stops. "You being questioned today."
"Wha—" I start to say, but the patrol officer ignores me. The banging starts up again when he hits mine a few times and then goes on to the next one.
I draw my eyebrows together in confusion and curiosity at what he meant when he said I was being questioned. 'Did they find Julia's dead body, and somehow think I'm an accomplice in her murder?'
As improbable as it sounds, I don't doubt anything after what happened to me: being locked up for the murder of a teenage girl.
"Are they thinking about releasing me?" I quickly push that option away when I realize the absurdity of it.
I go over countless options in my head.
After making up hundreds of scenarios, I give up. 'What's the point of it all? I'll find out eventually.'
Sometime around ten AM—I know this because of the rounds of the patrol officer. He makes them every thirty minutes, and he was just here for the fourth time, so logic—I hear someone whispering my name.
"Oliver!"
I look up and see my worst nightmare. The man who is the cause of my lifetime imprisonment. I close my eyes, hoping I'm just hallucinating, but when I open them again, he's still there. I give him a glare, but he ignores it and holds up a phone with what looks to be a photo covering the screen.
'It kind of looks like--' I can't see the image completely from here and I find myself unconsciously stepping closer to the metal bars to figure out what it portrays. I gasp, then suddenly find my head reeling and I want to puke. My mind takes a moment to process what my eyes have already seen.
Julia. He has Julia. He has Julia tied down to a chair in that stupid warehouse. And her face . . . it's full of fear. I see a play button on the bottom of the screen. I don't hesitate to press it.
Julia is practically crying, but her message is clear. "Don't tell them about her! Ollie, please, no matter what they say, don't tell them."
I close my eyes in frustration and when I open them a few seconds later, he's gone.
I stand there for what seems to be eternity, thinking about what Julia said. 'Why'd she say her?' 'Perhaps it was just a slip-up.' I turn to sit on the edge of my cot. Now that he's left, I find myself questioning whether he was even here at all. I convince myself I was just hallucinating; he can't possibly have Julia. I sent her out of state with Grandma.
'I really am insane. Maybe I should be locked up in a mental asylum.'
At that moment, I decide to just screw it. Tell whoever is questioning me about him. 'He wasn't really here, and if he was, he'll never know.'
A few hours later, when I'm dragged out of my cell into a boxed white room with a table and a few chairs, I finally recognize the seriousness of the situation.
I'm introduced to Inspector Modik, man with curly blond hair and a baby face. Then I meet his partner Javier Mendez, who is the stark contract is appearance. Slick black hair and scruffy facial hair. I notice the FBI badges on both of their attire.
They tell me to sit down. They sit across from me and get straight to the chase.
Modik begins "A month and a half ago, someone went missing."
That was around the time he visited me.
"She was someone I'm sure you are well aware of: Leila Wade."
I purse my lips and continue to sit in silence.
"For a month and half, we've had nothing. No leads of her whereabouts. Nothing. But just a few days ago, we found something."
Mendez coughs. Modik turns to him. "Something wrong?"
"We were given it sir, we didn't find it."
Medick's eyes flash with annoyance. "Yes, but I'm not really concerned with the technicalities right now."
I pipe in. "Technicalities are important."
Modi turns his eyes back to mine. "Anyways, as I was saying, we were given—" he enunciates the given. "—a little black journal that apparently was Leila's."
The journal he told me to have her re-read.
"And in this journal, Leila seemed to believe that you were innocent in the murder of her sister. Do you have anything to say on that matter?"
At this moment, two roads lie in front of me. I can either tell them everything and potentially risk my sister's life, or I can lie and be stuck here in this jail forever. I'm torn between the too.
I finally make up my mind. Unlike Robert Frost, I don't take the road less travelled by.
Instead, I find myself backing out of my previous commitment to myself when I respond with, "No, as I've said a million times before, I killed her."
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<3 ash