Headsets For Fear

PRESENT 10 : MAVERICK

Seventeen days later

As soon as I left the FBI headquarters, I regretted shouting at Nora. After all, she was just doing her job. She didn't have the authority to let anyone meet Elijah.

I ruffled my hair and looked at the busy street, wishing that I also had a car like most of the people on the road. I have been saving up quite a bit for one, but it's still not enough.

I walk slowly on the dusty footpath, with people striding past me. I try my best to avoid pushing anyone.

Even if Nora did let me talk to him, how could I be sure that he wanted to talk to me? He probably still hated me. He would throw a knife at me from inside the cell if I tried to talk. How could I be sure that he would even listen to how sorry I was?

Would he even believe that after Eleanor died, I had searched for him multiple times, but his phone was always switched off? I had tried to find him, but could never get his address. Even after all these years, I couldn't find a trace of him.

And suddenly he appears out of nowhere, only to end up in jail. He had absolutely given up on himself. Didn't he even think once how Eleanor would have felt if she saw him this way?

I had never felt so damned angry all my life.

I stamped my foot in frustation right when an elderly woman was walking  in front of me, carrying a couple of heavy bags. I accidentally pushed her, causing all her bags to fall. She groaned in frustration and bent to pick them up. I went for the bags at the same time, and our foreheads hit each other. "Move back, young man," the woman snapped. I shot back, taken aback by the strength in her voice.

"I'm sorry," I mumbled, "I wasn't looking -"

"Well, if you're sorry enough, carry these bags for me, will you?"

I looked at her bags. There were five of them, and all of them seemed pretty heavy. I wondered what she had in them. Was she expecting guests?

I lifted up three of them, and she picked up the remaining two. I strained a little under the weight before managing to balance myself. How was she even carrying them for so long?

"I would've booked a cab," She explained. "But I'm short of money at this point. So you'll have to carry them home."

Great, I thought to myself. Absolutely fucking great.

I followed her in the crowded street. Avoiding people became even harder, specially because I didn't know the place where she was taking me. It was strange, that I have been living in New York ever since I was born, and was still unfamiliar with some nooks and corners, especially the areas which were a little quiet.

We left the busy street behind, and reached a semi-urban area. It had lesser roads, and the houses had more distance between them. There were even a couple of cozy-looking two-storeyed cottages. She stopped in front of one of them.

She unlocked the door and hauled the two bags in. I followed suit.

The house probably wasn't a very new one, judging from the faded colour in the walls. She pointed towards a sofa, and asked me to sit in it. "You've been very helpful," She said. "Sit down, and have some cookies. I made them myself."

I guess I did deserve the treat.

"Can I switch on the television?" I went to the kitchen, where she had gone, and asked. She nodded.

It had been a long time since I had watched the television, so I had no idea what show would be playing now. I switched to the news instead.

There was a lady in the channel, reading out the number of deaths that have been reported over the last seven days. She says that even though the deaths were lesser than the average of last week, there was a lot of work to be done.