Absent

Chapter 1

~ ~ ~

It was worse than a stab wound, the pain I was feeling. I'd been beaten, cut, burned, kicked and none of it hurt me this way. There was a dull emptiness inside my chest and a sadness like I had never felt that came with it.

"His name was Paul Arnold. He was forty-two years old."

I bit down on my lip as I stared down at the file in my hands. There were photos from that night, from the scene I had created. The man was lying there in a pool of blood, his blood. His skin was pale, probably cold to the touch. His eyes were closed, but I remembered that they were brown. He didn't know what my face looked like; I made sure of that.

"He was the manager of a convenience store and was on his way home that night. Divorced, two kids living with their mother and step-father. No pets, or close friends." The agent's voice seemed distant as I stared down. I almost couldn't focus on the words, but I heard what he was saying. "What made you choose him?"

The agent leaned in closer to me, but I didn't look up. "Are you going to deny that it was you?"

Slowly, I shook my head in response.

"I need a verbal confession."

My cold hands shook and I gripped them together. I pressed them into my legs. "I did it." My voice was rasped after hours of refusing to speak.

I tore my gaze away from the photos and stared down at my lap. I didn't want to be there anymore. I didn't know where I would go now that the Agency was gone, but anywhere was better than there.

I didn't have answers to give them. I didn't know who the man was when I was given my assignment. We didn't ask questions. We didn't decide if someone was innocent or guilty, right or wrong. Dominus made those decisions and told us what to do. And we listened. I listened. Now they were telling me that I was wrong and I believed them.

"Unprovoked murder of the first degree like this can get even a minor a minimum of twenty-five years in prison." The agent said.

Prison. That was where I belonged. Where else would I go anyway?

"But considering your situation, we are forced to reevaluate your psychological well-being at the time of the attack." The agent stood. "That doesn't mean you're off the hook for this."

Then he left and I was alone again. The quiet of the room didn't save me from myself. I was consumed, drowning in my own thoughts. In my guilt. I deserved this.

~ ~ ~

The wall of my cell was white. Roughly painted bricks that kept me captive. The nearly empty room around me didn't hold heat, but nothing compared to the cold that surrounded my heart. The bars were thick, impossible to break and too close to fit through. I was trapped, but I didn't want to run anyway. I knew this was a fate that I couldn't avoid; one that I had earned.

"Think about this, Director. She's only fifteen years old." The distance voices echoed through the hallway and towards my cell. Vanessa sounded more desperate as she got closer.

"She'll be fine, Salazar, she's not a normal fifteen year old." Agent Roberts spoke next. "This is a great decision, Director."

"She's not invincible, John." Vanessa said, using Agent Roberts' first name.

"That's enough." A stern voice broke between them. It was deep and filled the whole room, leaving no space for argument. "I've made up my mind."

They appeared in front of my cell then, and a guard stepped forward to unlock the door. He gestured for me to walk through and stepped back. I cautiously did what they wanted, not feeling better when I caught Vanessa's eye. She sent me a smile, but it was forced.