Gracie Freaking Hall

Matilda

We had a love-hate relationship.

Right now, all I felt was the love part, as her familiar face registered in my mind. When she came back, I didn't get as much as a phone call for a heads-up. As soon as the news traveled, I rushed out of there to make sure, only to be kicked out within minutes of our long-awaited reunion. I wondered if I was the only one who had been waiting for her return, I couldn't have been. As far as my memory goes, she had been sent to a jail far from here and we weren't to know where, per her request. That night was permanently engraved in my head, like a plaque.

"Here," the young officer handed me a cup of lukewarm coffee. The station was cold and all I had brought was a thin sweater and my anxiety.

"Thanks," I tell him with a fleeting smile. I wasn't in the mood to smile, but it was polite. I followed a lot of simple rules like that. Make eye contact with someone, and offer them a warm smile. Someone gives you something? Always say thanks. Someone is rude and insults you? Pretend it doesn't hurt and just nod. There was no pointing at someone, that's rude. There was no cursing, it was vulgar and I wasn't supposed to be a vulgar person. I was raised better than that.

These rules didn't apply to people like Brianna. Screw the rules, they made their own.

Yet, here I was, sitting at a dimly lit place with the clicking of keyboards going around while the ringing in my ear muffled a lot of it. I wanted to run to the bathroom, but I had been sitting for so long that I was afraid the once-cold metal seat had melted with my butt. My teeth chattered, which is why the officer had taken pity but all he could offer was half-warmed coffee that had been sitting there for a while, no one having the energy to brew a fresh one. Especially not for the sister of a killer.

"She's not talking," he tells me. I'm sure he has told me his name, I'm even sure it is written on the shiny brass name tag that's pinned to his uniform, but I didn't listen nor did I care. "Do you think she'll talk to you?"

That gets my attention as I can only respond with the uncontrollable laughter that bubbles inside me. The officer stares at me as if I had a couple of loose screws, which I did, but he didn't know. I control my laughter after a few seconds and dry up the small tears. "Me? I'm not the last person she'd talk to." I finally dare to stand up, feeling the slight sting that comes from my ass being unglued from the metal. "Actually, I'm glad she's here. It's about time she pays for her crimes."

"Then why have you sat there and waited this long?" He questions my motivation. I look down at my hands, they hold the black box she had given me for my silence. "To give my statement. I picked her up after all."

Just then another officer runs up and whispers in his ear. The guy nods and looks at me. "We don't need it. She confessed to everything."

I let out another laugh, this one without any humor. "Great. Tell her I'll see her at her court hearing." I make my way to the bathroom when his voice stops me.

"There won't be a court hearing. She's being transferred today."

I can't help but furrow my eyebrows in confusion as I look at him. "What does that mean?"

"It means you won't see her again for a while."

"Where is she going?" He closes his lips as if not wanting to say the next part but my impatience gets to me. "Well?"

"I can't say," he finally mutters.

"Why?" I was getting annoyed by his delays and lack of urgency.

"She doesn't want anyone to know and we have to respect that right."

The coffee cup falls to the floor next to him, as the coffee drenches his shirt. I give him a cynical look and shake my head. "Respecting the rights of a killer. That's real rich."