The Trial Of Alyssa Miller (Teen Thriller)

8. Incarcerated

Some believed that strength was something you were born with. One was either born strong-willed or weak-minded. Some walked the earth like an exposed nerve, letting words pierce their skin and eat away their soul. But not her, black and white thinking was never her forte, she always thought in grey. She believed that staying in the grey or silver lining was the best option to see everything clearly. Nothing would be hidden because one wouldn't be prejudiced if they allowed themselves to see beyond the good and evil.

Taking sides was a waste of energy. Running the mile in haste as everyone does was something she found no amusement in. Why outrun everyone else, when one could simply stay on the sidelines, lay in wait, and join the track when each player bore their cards and had exhausted themselves beyond repair? Life was never fair, so why play fair?

The officer who shoved her inside a cell smiled wickedly before he closed the door in a daunting manner. If she was weak, she would have stumbled on the floor and cried. Or perhaps, had run towards the door, gripped the bars, and begged to be set free. Maybe those were what the officer expected to have seen from her, that's why he closed the door a few seconds less than the time needed to shut it, awaiting a response from her. He was mistaken. Alyssa answered that taunt with a smile and a bow.

"You wouldn't be so smug once you've tasted what actual prison looks like, missy," the officer said to her as sported a grin. Clicking his tongue, he turned on his heel and walked away. Alyssa chuckled, he may have acted like her reaction hit nothing, but she knew better. Officer Ferguson was as sensitive as an onion. He may have layers, but they were easily dismantled by simply trampling on his pride. A kind of pride that in truth had no real impact on his everyday life. It gave him nothing and would garner him nothing.

Alyssa scanned the inside of the cell. There was a single bed on the left and a disgusting-looking toilet on the right; one that didn't even have barricades to prevent onlookers from witnessing how someone would shit. The room also had a distinct smell, one that reinforced the image of the room; repugnant. With a sigh, she took a step toward the bed, but before she could even sit on it, a clearing of someone's throat had her looking back at the cell door. There, detective Howe stood. The expression on his face danced between confident and confused at the same time. A truly remarkable sight.

"That was my superior on the phone."

Alyssa raised an eyebrow. Minutes ago, while she and the detective were inside the car-him interrogating her about how she found out he had called for reporters-his phone rang, and that caused him to exit the vehicle, leaving Alyssa in the hand of officer Ferguson who was at that time had just fallen to a step beside the car door.

"And what did he say, detective?"

She watched, amazed at how his indecision appeared clear in his eyes. He seemed to be weighing whether to tell her the truth or not. But after a few seconds, he took a deep breath and answered, "They pressured the mayor and judge to re-open the investigation. Your trial is suspended but you're to stay in this cell while I, and someone from my department resumes the investigation of your case.

"Better do it right then," Alyssa mumbled. She purposely said those in a mocking tone hoping to elicit some form of anger from the detective. And by how the man frowned and stepped close to the bars of the cell, she knew she got what she wanted.

"This would've been easy if you have given a proper explanation, Alyssa. Was it so hard to have told me the truth?"

"And what truth would that be, detective? There are variations of truth in this case. But the truth you seek, you must figure out on your own."

The bars on her cell slightly rattled when the detective grabbed it and shook the frail metal. His eyes were that of a killer. The obviousness of his frustration was something that momentarily stunned Alyssa. But then again, wasn't that what she wanted? She needed to prey on his ego and force him to truly look at the case. In her eyes, detective Howe had been prancing. From the day he came to Tarika four years ago, up until the day he returned a few days back, the detective had regarded her case as if it was a walk in the Park.