Misdirected

Chapter 4

Author's note: I haven't really had a chance to update because of school, and I apologize for that. And I'm double sorry because  this is a really short chapter and it's still setting things up for future events. (Plus it's super late right now). Let me know what you think about the plot so far!

Anyway, remember to VOTE, COMMENT, AND FAN!:)

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Misdirected: Chapter 4

I grudgingly stood to my feet, stretching as I did so. The girl began tapping her foot impatiently as I did my best to move as slowly as possible. As I made my way out the cell, I noticed two heavily armed guards standing on each side of the entrance. Interestingly enough, they didn’t put cuffs on my hands; instead, they nudged me with their weapons.

The girl led me down a flight of stairs, into a large room, with white walls that illuminated it.  Inside, there were two black chairs and a glass table. I gave her a suspicious look, not that it mattered, and in response she pushed me forward. The doors, which seemed to blend in with the rest of the room, closed behind us, and the guards remained outside.

“What are you waiting for?” she snapped. I gave her a dimwitted look, as if to say “I don’t understand.”

“Take a seat.” She rolled her eyes. The chairs looked far more comfortable than the dark cell, so I gladly plopped myself down.

Once she took a seat across from mine, the glass table lit up, and random digits began to cover the top. Eventually, I saw a picture of myself, along with all of my records.

“No siblings...expelled from twelve different schools as an elementary student...high school drop out....disowned....multiple DUI cases, but you’ve never been in a major wreck...That's pretty lucky...” I decided to tune out her annoying, monotone voice.

“You changed your name.” She stopped, looking slightly surprised, “Why?”

“You're the genius, you tell me.” I decided to humor her.

 "High school drop out...disowned...?" She gave me a questioning look.

 "Right. Nice job." I rolled my eyes, mildly irritated by her tone.

“Right.” She gave me a distrustful look, but accepted the explanation.

“So tell me,” she glanced down at the screen, searching for my name, “Logan, what made you snap?”

I clenched my fists. I was a lot of things, but a murderer--no.

“I didn’t snap.” I responded in a low, threatening voice.

“Really?” She chuckled with amusement, crossing her arms, “So why are you here?”

I looked down for a moment. I knew the crime I hadn’t committed, but I also knew that I was, and still am, in part, deserving of this.

“I’ve been wrongfully convicted.” The response came out stronger than I’d expected.

She stopped smirking as a thoughtful look crossed her face. Perhaps she was contemplating whether I had lied to her, or maybe she was thinking of what experiment to run, given that our judicial system refused to be wrong, and that I should therefore be considered deranged. I looked at the walls behind her nervously, hoping that by some miracle, I wouldn’t suffer a horrible fate.

After what seemed like ages, she finally spoke.

“Do you know what is going to happen beyond this point?” She didn't seem to care about her previous inquiries anymore.