All The Odds

Thirty

"Iverson?" Her soft voice came with the creak of his door but he didn't answered, he laid still on his bed staring at the dark space before him.

Valeria was most likely the most obstinate person he'd ever came across, no matter how many times he rudely demanded for her to mind her own fúcking business and leave him the hell alone, she'd always come back to disturbed him.

"Iverson?" She called again and he felt her walking further into the room. He shut his eyes and clenched his jaw, he was going to lose his shít if she turned on the lights. He had grown to cherish the darkness in room.

"Iverson, are you in here?"

"What do you want?" He wanted to sound harsh but his voice was gruffy from lack of use and even to his ears, he sounded weak.

"The police are here, they said they want to talk."

His eyes flashed opened but it made no difference, everything was still pitch back.

"I told them they could talk to me but they said it's very important they speak with you in person." She rushed out. He was still getting use to how fast she talk whenever she was nervous.

"Okay." He whispered.

"Okay? You coming out?" She asked, sounding surprised. How many times had she tried to get him out of his solitude to know avail?

Well it was the police this time, it wasn't like he had a choice.

"Yes." He said, slowly sitting up in bed. On a normal day he'd have been concerned with why police where at his door but he honestly couldn't bring himself to care about anything. The faster he got rid of them, the faster he can return to shutting the rest of the world out.

He didn't bother with modesty, he walked out of the bedroom after Valeria in the same boxer shot he had been wearing for God knows how many days. The bright light in the hallway assaulted his eyes like they were enemies and he grimaced, shutting his eyes tightly and slowly opening it as he approached the entrance door.

He had never felt so lost and weightless in his life, it was as if he was floating instead of walking on his legs.

Opening the door, he couldn't resist glaring at the two uniformed officers he saw.

"Mr. Benson?" One of them asked, eying him up and down in disapproval. Maybe for his lack of decency or the ugly beard that covered his cheeks and jaw.

"What do you want?" He asked impatiently. He didn't give a fúck about their opinion, he was just done with everyone's bullshít.

The officers exchanged a look before shuffling closer to him, one with a pen and paper in hand like a wannabe journalist. "Mr. Benson, can you tell us where you were on the 7th of this month?"

"I was here."

"Where was "here" exactly?" The second officer asked. "Can you tell us if you ran any errands, met up with any friends, how exactly did you spend that day?"

Truth was, Iverson couldn't remember anything. He didn't even know what day it was presently or how long ago the 7th was. "I was here in my home, I don't remember running any errands."

The pen and paper officer jotted something down as the other asked. "We have reports that you were seen with Ms. Wright on that day and you travelled to Kadeville together, how could you have been here then?"

The name sent pinpricks of pain into Iverson's heart, he had been trying really hard to erase that name from his mind and the face that came with it. He hasn't had much success, she was in every of his waking thoughts.