Violent Flaws and Gentle Imperfections

THREE

Xander

"Hello Xander. I'd say it's nice to see you again but frankly it's never nice to see you, as every encounter we have is always due to some sort of negative event and considering the circumstances, I wouldn't say this time is any different." Officer Clyde is blunt. He doesn't say anything he doesn't mean and he never regrets anything he says.

"Well that's too bad, Clyde, because I was going to say that your rosy face absolutely lights up this room. Actually, it really does; it's the only colour in it besides this goddamn orange." I however am a sarcastic fucker. The one thing we do have in common, though, is that I never regret anything I say either.

"Let's just get to business, kid. Do you remember anything from last night?" No nonsense.

"Wowie, that trip has already been filed into the last night folder? That seems like it was only a few hours ago." And it does. I look around the room for a clock and find that it's 11:19am. I slept for a solid nine hours. Fuck.

"Come on, Evans, what happened last night?" Clyde is already impatient. I'm not surprised, he has a short temper.

I'm just about to answer with another jeering comment before last night actually starts to flood back to me. Miles and Felix were with me last night. And two girls.  Mile was driving. And then... "Where are Miles and Felix?"

Clyde's jaw hardens. "What happened last night?"

"Where are Miles and Felix? And where are the girls that were in the car?"

"Answer my question first."

"No you answer mine!" My voice raises and I sit up. "You need your answer probably more than I need mine but you're not getting it until you answer me first."

Clyde swallows. "They're dead. All of them," his eyes are hard but sympathetic. "The paramedics that retrieved their bodies from the car pronounced them dead on the scene."

I don't know what to do. "You're lying." But I know he's not. Why else would he be so insistent that I answer him? He could have just said okay and asked the others. But I'm the only surviving victim from the crash.

"I'm not. I'm sorry." He looks away quickly. I'm not sure if it's because he's afraid I'll cry or afraid he will.

I don't want to cry. I can't cry. Not in front of Clyde. Not in front of anyone. Emotion is a weakness. But now I'm breaking my own rule and I'm feeling the earth shatter and shake and crumble within itself. I haven't felt anything strong in years and now I'm feeling it all; sadness, anger, guilt, even self hatred. I hate myself for surviving when they didn't. What have I done that makes me worthy of living when they can't? Fucking random girls every weekend and smoking on weekdays to achieve a high to escape the life I live?

"What happened last night, Evans?" His tone is softer now. Whatever my face must look like, he's changed his approach. 

"You want to know what happened last night?" My voice is unusually loud and I don't know where the volume is coming from when all I can taste is copper on my tongue. "We got drunk as fuck at Lucy's Rest like we do every Friday night, picked up some strangers, and were on our way to a kick ass party. You know whose bright idea that was? Mine. Fucking mine. And now I'm sitting here like a helpless little shit, alive, while my best friends will never be able to blink their eyes again." I sound hysterical and realize I'm breathing heavy. With every sentence my voice grew deeper, my eyes grew darker, and skin turned colder. The reality of what had happened began to settle in as I said the words out loud. Thanks to me, Miles and Felix were dead and so were two complete strangers.

Meanwhile, Clyde had stopped the little recorder that he had pulled out of nowhere and was writing furiously in a kid sized notebook. Finally he looks up at me and says somberly, "We took BAC tests from everyone in the car. The highest was yours. In fact I'm surprised you didn't just die from alcohol poisoning. Your BAC was a 0.26%. You were mighty drunk. Unfortunately, so was the driver. His BAC was a 0.19%. There were several witnesses. What happened was he flew through a red light, skidded, a car coming in from the right hit the side and sent your car flying. The car flipped twice and sent it into the stopped line of incoming traffic across the intersection. Judging how drunk you were and the severity of the accident, I'd say you're lucky as hell to be alive."

I didn't feel very lucky. I actually felt very unlucky. I've never been religious, at all for that matter, but I felt like this was God's way of punishing me. I may live a happy life of no regrets, but that comes at a cost. I've sacrificed the wellbeing of those around me for my own selfish reasons. This wouldn't be the first time He's unleashed His wrath on me though.

"I'll give you sometime alone." Clyde braces his hands against his knees and stands up to excuse himself from the room.

But before he goes I want to ask him one more thing. "Clyde?"

He stops just a couple feet from the doorway. "Evans?"

"Why me?" I croak.

This question seems to stump him for a solid thirty seconds. What he contemplated in those thirty seconds, I'll never know. But I could see surprise and pity flash behind his stony eyes. After staring at me for a few more seconds, he simply shrugs his shoulders before turning his back on me and walking out.

Yeah, I think at him, I don't know either.