Is This True?

Chapter 22

"What do you mean, 'you know her'?"

The question flew out of my mouth before I could respond in a much nicer tone, but I couldn't help but be a little curious and all too concerned as to how Scott knew Samantha. She was a very strange character even though she was the one who helped get my friends out of "danger" and would soon abandon them soon after. I could still remember the squinty look she'd give me while talking to me, her light blue eyes staring deep into my soul as if judging and predicting my next thought or action. It was scary, honestly, how much her and her daughter Joan resembled so much. Not in looks that is but psychologically too. 

Scott didn't answer right away but rather lowered his head and gaze down to the counter, his fingers lightly tapping the small decorative dots. His eyes flickered almost everywhere as if searching for any reasonable explanation, but as time drew on, the silence was more than overwhelming for him. I knew he was trying to get himself out of this one but had no idea how.

I wanted to ask again or rather say his name to get his attention, but anything I would say would go in one ear and out the other. What I said didn't matter, but it didn't hurt to try.

"Scott?"

He finally met my eyes, his eyebrows raised as well as mine.
"What?"

"What--how--do you know Samantha?"

His voice cracked,
"I do."

"I--I know you do. I just want to know how?"

"I just do. It--it was such a long time ago."

"What was a long time ago? Knowing her? Did your family know her? Or did she?"

His hazel eyes closed to only open to a more menacing stare, almost scaring me.
"No. I'm the only one that knows her."

I didn't know what to say next. He wasn't answering my question at all. In fact, he was completely ignoring it. Clearly, he didn't want to tell me something for revealing something of his past; but the thing was, I needed to know. It was information for the case, and he was almost if not, withholding information--which was a felony.

"How?"

"I don't remember."

"Yes, you do."

"Are you calling me a liar?"

"No."

"Then, I don't want to talk about it."

"Why?"

"Because I don't feel like getting interrogated right now. I've had enough questions about my past in my lifetime. People that ask questions lose my trust."

A pang shot right through my stomach which sooner than expected developed into hurt and anger. I could clearly tell that Scott regretted what he said, but it was too late. The words were out and spelled out one thing:

He didn't trust me.

"Well then, you should've lost my trust a long time ago."

"Look--"

Scott tried to take what he said back,
"--forget what I said. I'm sorry, that came out completely wrong than I had expected."

"No, no, it's all right."

I nodded my head and smoothed the counter with my palm, a hint of sarcasm flowing in my voice.
"I understand what you mean. Completely."

"Then I'm forgiven?"