Crimson Mists

24. A Date With The Suitor.

My life could normally be compared to a roller coaster but now, it was just worst. Seemed like the ride was faulty with jammed hinges and loose knots.

Csp Allen had taken me to a house, a multi-storey building which he said belonged to the state. A room in its multiple crevices had been established for my rehabilitation. And in that same room, after he'd delightfully ensured I was familiar with the surroundings and equipments, I then brought up the topic of my co-fighters.

It was a topic, I noticed that made his face strewn out despite the impressive rigidity of his facial muscles.

"And here is the restroom, incase you want to relieve yourself," Allen had said.

"We'd be checking on you at every minute, but do not hesitate to call for us if you need anything. There is a panic button beside your bed for that and you'll have someone attending to you when you hit it."

"I trust that we should have you settled in right now. You should be tired," he said.

I remembered Henry's conflicted face as he'd heard me cry. His voices, his calls...

What could I do to ease the guilt I felt. The plan was all shattered cause of me. Hell, I hope they were all right?

"Sorry, excuse me officer," I said, sitting on the bed. "Could I at least know what went on with the others before I passed out?"

"Ooh," he said. "I didn't know you'd be that interested."

"I am pretty much interested sir, especially now that I know what happened."

"That is a good development. You want to say what you remembered?"

"Yes sir."

"Well, you can go on," he said, making himself comfortable on the desk top and adjusting his holster.

"I remember being shot," I said, gauging his reaction. "And I also remember being the reason I was shot, something that could have been avoided if I was not delusional."

Csp Allen was silent for some time, staring into my eyes with an expression— formidable in its blank entirety.

"What are you currently afraid of miss Megbuo?"

My head swept back in shock. "What?"

He raised a brow, still managing to look bored. 

"My —my name..." I said, stammering. I couldn't even recognize my own voice.

"I know about you." He was nonchalant. Speaking like he was a family friend telling me about him and my late dad's wild nights during their youths.

"I almost never use that name," I whispered, gaze pointed at his solemn face but quirked lips.

"Well, it's your name," he started. "-given to you by your mother, am I right?"

There was a lot of precision in what he was saying even as an officer of the law cause I knew that my last name was never in any document home and abroad.

"How did you know that? And please, who are you to me?"

"I'm a family friend and I'll show you something interesting. Have you seen this?" he asked, pulling a wallet out and showing me a miniature black and white photo, like the one I'd taken from Urewoli. It was a photo of a father holding a child— a father who resembled Csp Allen upon close inspection.