Addicted- {Don't You Remember?}

Uncomfortable

It was exactly 3 weeks after Ghost's death. Zella, her mother, and I were eating KFC that Zella and I had snagged on the way back home from running some errands. We were eating in silence when there was a sharp knocking at the door. Zella's mom nearly shrieked as she got up, taking the bucket of fried chicken with her as she descended downstairs.

"Mom! You better not eat all of that!" Zella yelled after her.

She yelled something muffled in response.

I sighed, wiping my hands with a napkin quickly before going to the door and opening it. In front of me stood two police men and another man with combed back brown hair, blue eyes, and a clean attire. I felt sick in my stomach, knowing exactly what this was about.

"Good evening. Is Zella Valentine and Nicolas Parks here?" The man asked.

"That's us..." I turned to Zella. She was now standing right next to me.

"Is this about Ghost?" Zella asked.

"Ghost?" The man raised an eyebrow.

She rolled her eyes, "William Goldburg? My fiancé?"

"Yes. I'm Charles Hancock, a homicide detective working at our county's police department. I'm deeply sorry about your friend, and your fiancé," He looked over at Zella, "William Goldburg, or, Ghost. We want to bring whoever is responsible for his death to justice just as much as you must. I would like to do an interview with you each individually back at the station."

Zella and I shared a brief look before Zella spoke once again, "Yeah that's fine. We'll be out in a second." She shut the door, sighing out, "Holy fuck, Nicolas. Holy fuck."

"Why do you think they waited so long?" I asked.

"Maybe to get over the shock? People have trouble keeping it together during it."

"Maybe."

While Zella threw on a jacket and shoes, I went up to my room. I was a week clean, just overcoming the withdrawls from the oxycodone. The itch was still at the back of my head though. I'm beginning to think it always will be. I looked at myself in the mirror. I still looked sick, but maybe they can pass it on as a cold. I grabbed my red hoodie, putting it on. I threw on my converse, and after putting my hair back in a ponytail, I met Zella, the detective, and the cops outside.

"Please, take a seat." The homicide detective gestured to the only other empty chair in the room. After they had interviewed Zella for about 20 minutes, it was my turn. I nervously sat down, hands on my lap. I know this sounds pretty cheesy, but I wished there was someone there to hold my hands still. I could really use the comfort of another person, especially now. I hadn't talked about this yet to anyone and the very thought of this shook me to the core. "Don't be nervous. We're just going to ask a few questions."

There was another homicide detective sitting next to Charles, or whatever his name was. He had a pedo-stache as a raised eyebrow. I breathed out and nodded.

"So, explain to me your side of the story. Then we'll go from there."

"Okay." I nodded, licking my chapped lips, "Ghost and I were best friends, ever since like, kindergarten? Brothers, you could say. You could ask anybody. We've never had a serious fight or any of that junk. When we met Zella in high school, we were unstoppable, just stupid kids living in a crappy part of town. I'm sure you get it." I paused, looking up at them. The new detective had a nasty look on his face. The other was busy jotting down notes. I decided to continue, "Anyways... Like I said, we never had a serious fight until the night before his death." This got their attention. The new detective stopped slouching, sitting up a bit. Charles looked down at me, nodding, "I never got the chance to... to tell him how sorry I am for all the dumb shit I said. How I acted. How lousy of a friend I was becoming to him, man he didn't deserve any of that shit. I got really drunk because I was upset and I had lost my job the same night and blacked out in a ditch. I woke up the morning of his death... before I found him. I wanted to apologize."

"What did you fight about?" The snotty detective asked, leaning forward. He had a thick, southern accent.

"... I was addicted to oxycodone." I replied, throat dry. "It tore us apart and he was worried about me. I fucked up."

"So, you seriously expect us to believe that after a fight, you, a drug-addicted, unemployed, clearly unstable man, just let him go? Didn't kill him after the fight? That you 'blacked out'?" The snotty detective used finger quotes.

My face twisted in aggravation, "You're saying I killed my brother?"

"Cutting the emotional he-was-my-best-friend-crap, yes. You sound like you killed him. You were the first witness." He leaned forward, jabbing a finger at me. I wanted to scream.

"Hey, hey, Rodriguez, loosen up!" Charles frowned, earning a scoff from Rodriguez. "Do you know where Zella was the night of the incident?"

"No." I shook my head, sighing out, "I have no idea. Ghost never mentioned her whereabouts."

Charles nodded, and when he was done jotting that down, he looked down at me again, "Do you know anybody who had any beef with your friend? Maybe someone who wanted to kill him?"

"No, not that I know of. He was the sweetest guy I knew, wouldn't even hurt a fly. He was a stripper though and that job could get a little... dirty."

"Dirty?"

"Well yeah. You do things to get money. Ghost wouldn't go all the way and do oral with anyone but the guy knew how to swindle people out of their money with his body. That was something he was really good at. If anyone had anything against him, it might have been a co-worker or something. But it still doesn't seem likely."

"Alright, good to know. Where did he work?"

"Pretty Boy's."

"Is it a gay bar?"

"I wouldn't call it that. But it wasn't straight either. It's down by the intersection of Rivera and Valley. Pretty hidden."

"Where did you work?" He asked.

"I worked at a Suicide Prevention office downtown. I was a phone operator."

"What happened?"

"The drugs..." I mumbled, looking back down at my hands.

"Those drugs of yours really get in the way of everything, huh?" Rodriguez sneered.

"I'm off them now. It's been about a week." I glared at him.

"I didn't ask you to justify yourself."

My fists curled under the table.

"Alright." Charles interrupted in a loud voice, "That's all for now. Let's get you and your friend back home."

I relaxed, standing up. After shoving my hands in my jacket pocket, I approached the exit. Only, I was stopped by a forceful hand snatching my arm. It pushed me against the wall. I looked into sharp brown eyes glaring down at me, finger nails digging into my arm.

"Yain't fooling anybody." Rodriguez growled, "You're off the hook this time, Parks. But one false move is all it takes to get your ass behind bars. I know what you did." He shoved me into the wall before following his partner out of the room.

I watched him leave, eyes wide. Did he really just fucking do that? It infuriated me more than anything. It would be my luck to get framed for this shit. After walking out of the room, Zella greeted me with a hug, the comfort I was aching for before vanishing. Of course, I hugged back, "That was horrible. I can't believe I ain't crying yet."

"Me neither." She admitted with a small laugh.

I hope her mother hadn't eaten all the chicken by now.