Truth

Guilt

I wake up in the morning in a cold sweat, the voice repeating in my head like a never-ending nightmare. There is no way that anyone could have known what happened. I'm still not sure that I even know exactly what happened.

"Just relax," I tell myself, "it was probably just some prank call."

As I lay in bed trying to calm myself, my phone rings, nearly scaring me out of my skin. Is the voice from last night calling me back? Reaching for my phone, I let out a huge sigh of relief when I realize it's only Camilla.

"Hello?"

"Hey! You're still in bed, aren't you?" Without waiting for a response, Camilla plows on, "Well, you need to get up now, I have something for us to do today."

The last thing I want to do today is listen to Camilla babble about Owen while we aimlessly wander the mall knowing we don't even have a penny in out pockets to spend.

"I can't today, I'm pretty sick," this isn't a complete lie, thinking about everything that's happened makes me feel awful and nervous, but not exactly sick.

"Sick with what?"

"I don't know, stomach bug?" I lie, then for good measure, "plus, I heard one of the girls in my gym class got lice and I borrowed a hair tie from her last week."

"Double ew! Lice are totally the worst. I had them in third grade and every time I got rid of them, they'd just come right back! I can't do that again, keep your yuck to yourself."  

Without so much as a bye, Camilla hung up.

Dropping my phone on the pillow, I roll over and slowly extract myself from the cozy warmth of my bed.

****

Thirty minutes later, I'm back in my bed with wet hair and clean pajamas, surrounded by snacks and chip crumbs. After licking my fingers clean and then running them down the front of my t-shirt to dry them off, I reach for my laptop. When the search engine loads, I type in various phrases and news websites trying to find out about the investigation of the hit and run. So far the news station hadn't put out any new information regarding an investigation. Relief floods through my veins when I come across an article saying that the police have a suspect in custody. 

The suspect, Flint Messer, has been involved in sketchy stuff like this before. A quick search of the police database leads me to his mug shot and a mile long rap sheet. Seeing this keeps me from feeling guilty about this guy taking the blame for something only two people seem certain he didn't do- me and the voice.

While I'm thinking about this guy sitting in a cold interview room or waiting on a cement bench in a holding cell, my computer pings indicating a new email. Switching browsers, I open my email. At the top of my inbox list is an email from an address I have never seen before. Curious I open it, assuming it's junk or from some random college I've never heard of before. Looking at the email I quickly realize it has to be from the voice on the phone from the day before. The only thing in the email is a link. Feeling like I have no other choice, I click the link. The link takes me to a video on a news website, I click play.

Moments later the video ends, leaving me to gawk at the computer screen. Flint, the suspect, had an alibi for the night of the hit and run. The police dropped the hit and run charges against him and instead arrested Flint for selling drugs. An officer at the police station assured the news watchers that the investigation would go on and informed everyone that an anonymous tip came through earlier in the morning saying that the driver in the hit and run was a female.