The Demon I Used To Be

Chapter thirteen

    I strolled back to the police station, contemplating on what I'd found out earlier. I was able to convince the man to give me Mr Johnson's phone number. I wanted to find out who the seller was. I also hoped whoever it was wasn't as far away as Yonai Yvonne. The only problem I then had was putting a call through to Mr Johnson since I couldn't have done with with the back of my palm. The last time I ever had a personal phone was never. We had a landline at home, for Alyssa and I, whenever we were left alone.
    The lady I had met earlier was still there, behind a counter. There were two men, also dressed in matching uniforms, with her, both by her left. By my right, there was a cell with two people in it, and by my left, a passage.
   "Who are you and how may we help you?", one of the men asked. " I'm here to see that guy", I replied, pointing to my right.
   "Whoa! That guy hasn't had anyone come around. He was also about to be released. Are you his girlfriend?", the other man sputtered. I raised a brow to give him the 'really?' look then hissed and stamped towards the grey gate that enclosed the two men. The walls of the station were grey, in and out. For a second, I wondered which of the men he had referred to; I didn't think my fingers pointed at any particular one.
    One of the men looked in his forties and the other looked about twenty. I recognized the younger one. He clearly recognized me too, with the puzzled look he wore as he stared intently at me.
   "How did you know I was here?", he whispered, clinging to the metal gate. The resonance in his voice was still there. His brown eyes, dark hair and not well-built body appeared attractive.
   "I'm not here to see you", I replied. He turned pale. He took a quick glimpse of the man then looked back at me. "Alright then". He moved over to a mat and sat, carefully, on it. The other man who had been there sprang up and walked up to me, clinging to the gate as he reached. I tried to concentrate on the stunt I was about to pull. He was fiddling with his fingers and my eyes were on him.
   I met him when I tried to find the station. He offered to walk me there and disappeared as soon as we reached. The few minutes I had spent with him were the first of their kind. My heart skipped at least two beats every half a minute.
   "Hello! Have we met before?", the older man almost yelled.
   "Stop it!", I yelled back. "You think I don't know you! Did you think that I didn't see you?!", I flared up. My eyes were wet and probably red.
   "What do you mean?", he asked, putting on a confused look.
   "Oh don't you act innocent! I saw you kill my father...I saw you!", I shrilled so hard I was going to loose my voice if I kept on with it.
   "Hey stop that!", the lady police officer yelled, grabbing me by my right hand, and pulling me back. I could hardly breathe properly when I was done. Trails of sweat rolled down, from my forehead to my chin. I saw tears fill his eyes. They were followed by whimpers.
   "I'm a changed person; I swear to you", he said between sobs. " I didn't mean to do it"
      "I believe you just heard that man confess to killing my father. He shouldn't be here. He should be in hell!", I screamed, struggling to get out of her hold. Another hand gripped my left arm. I put more effort into shimmying to get them off me, but it was futile. I lunged at the man anyway, but they pulled me further. The man hadn't stopped crying. His tears and sincerity took me aback. I'd never seen him until that day. It was stunning how whatever I yelled matched an experience he must've had.
     "If you're not sentencing that man to death then let me kill him myself!", I yelled more, still trying to escape their firm grips.
   "It's okay already. We've heard you. You can leave a statement now, accusing him of murder", the lady said.
   "Please, I beg you...I'm sorry. I'm changed, I swear!", he shrieked, pressing himself against the metal gate. He skin turned red and veins bulged from underneath his skin.
  "Where's the pen and where do I have to write it?", I asked, dryly. I stopped the madness, and they let go.
    "Over here". I followed the woman to the counter. She handed me a pen and a notebook and I wrote whatever murder story came into my mind, as long as it ended with my dad getting killed and a man with tanned skin and dark hair and beards was the culprit. I noted in the end that I was told the story by someone since all I could remember was his face. When I was done, I left for home.

**
    I rambled about till it was dark so I could sneak in through the gate. I couldn't keep doing that, anyway. It had to stop. I thought about my dad's wealth and the family lawyer again. I could've live like a goddess and not a wretched demon if I had half of his acquisitions.
    I walked, carefully, through the half opened gate that guarded the house I lived at. There was someone by one of the windows of the ground floor of the next house. After a while of tactics, the window was pulled up and the person crept in, holding a backpack in his hand. I stomped closer to the wire gauze fence then held on to it. My gaze was fixed on the window, not because I cared to get the criminal. The person had a jacket on. The white streetlamp on the other side of the street reflected on it. It was blue with red sleeves. It was also familiar.
    On my way to the station, when I got stranded, a young man who had been busy fiddling with a door knob walked up to me and asked if I needed any help. I asked him for direction, immediately, and he offered to walk me to the station. For the times our eyes met, his brown eyes seemed to sparkle, making my stiff heart flutter. He had the exact kind of jacket on when we met and when I saw him at the station.
    I couldn't explain why I stood and waited for about ten minutes for him to get out. He climbed out as carefully as he did in, but this time he had the bag on his back. I hissed a little loudly to signal him. I was doing things too quickly, I regretted the hiss the moment our eyes met again.
   "Just a sec", he mouthed then dashed towards the back of the building. I watched him disappear then waited for more than a sec for him to reappear.
     He walked up to me from behind my own building. "You have a great house, you know", he screamed, about a metre away. I could only see the stripes of him that the light fell upon. I hurried up to him, grabbed his arm and whirled him around. "This is not your house, is it?", he whispered as we headed round the building to my window.  I didn't answer till we reached. I didn't take him in; I wasn't going to.
    "No, it isn't", I replied, turning to face him. I could no longer see him clearly, through the darkness that consumed that part of the compound.
    "You're really something"
     "Why do you say?"
    "The man at the station...he didn't kill your father. You framed him". He sounded so sure. I was puzzled, but he wouldn't have noticed. I stared intently at him; the green light was back. His lips were folded in.
    "How do you know that?", I asked, softly.
   " I know the girl whose father he killed. Why did you do that?"
    "How do you know so much? Why did you remain silent?"
    "Well...cause...", he started then gulped, "...you're dangerous and I like that". He shoved his hand into his side pocket, and took out a small torchlight. He flicked it on then flashed the light at me, wagging the torch over my face. I'd have expected myself to stare into the light source without a blink, instead I lunged my hand over my face, protecting my eyes from the rays. I turned my face as well, noticing the rays that diffracted between my fingers.
   He tittered. "You have nice eyes". Again, my heart skipped a beat as the threshold to its irregular racing. I gulped. "Thanks, but yours are...", I was going to add 'nicer' to my statement, but I didn't like that it'd sound nice. He put off his light. "I guess...we'll meet some other time"
   "You're leaving", I retorted, "...I mean yes...we'll...see some other time", I stuttered, taking note of his other facial features like his pointed nose. "Sure", he replied, looking unsure. His eyes were squinted. "... Wish I could see you", he added then chuckled. His words were now like fuel to the machine that pumped my blood. I bit my lower lip to suppress a blush. He took my hand, swiftly, and pulled me back to where I had been standing when I saw him sneak into a house. The friction between our palms as he interlaced his fingers with mine created tension within my entire system. It was like there had been a rush of adrenalin. I could feel my forehead get wet as my heart throbbed even harder against my chest.
    I stood stiff, when we stopped, and our eyes met. He tittered, "At least I could see your face before leaving", then he smiled, widely. I was concentrated on both his face and trying not to blush. "Goodnight". With that he let go of my hand and headed to the gate.
    Suddenly, bright light rushed in and a car peeped loudly.