Fault Line [Completed]

Chapter Seven

I sit down on my bed. It's been a few days since Lizzy was shot. And in that time, I've just been either sitting or laying down on my bed. I lie down on my bed and close my eyes. Not wanting to move. Ever since Lizzy was shot, I have been figuring out another way to escape. I just couldn't wrap my head around an escape plan. It is hopeless. I will never get out of here. I just know it.

My cell door opens and a guard stands in the entrance. I open my eyes, but don't look at the guard.

"Get up." The male guard commands.

I stare at the top bed, not moving. I don't want to move unless I have to.

"Get up!" The guard says, more angrier than before.

I still don't move.

The guard grabs my arm fiercely. He is about to yank me off the bed when his hand goes to his ear.

"Yes, sir. Sorry, sir." The pauses as he listens to the person on the other side of the com. "Of course, sir." He turns to me. "Please," I can tell that he forced that word out. "Get up."

I groan, but stand up. He escorts me out of my room and down the hall.

I already know that we're going to the interrogation room. I've been going there ever since the beginning.

"You sound like a soldier." I comment as we walk down the silent hallways, though I feel like I'm being watched.

"That's because I am."

"If you're soldier why are you working here?"

He doesn't answer after that. I shake the feeling of being watched off and focus on where I'm walking.

We reach the interrogation room and I take my usual seat. I study the room more closely as the guard ties straps around my wrists. Yes, now they strap my to the chair. Guess I showed them.

The guard finishes the straps (though they only decided to tie my wrists and not my ankles or anything else) and then leaves the room.

I swear, every day of interrogation, Agent Smith has taken more time to arrive. But now just seems like he's taking a lifetime. I just want to get this over with so I can go back to my cell.

After ten more minutes of waiting, alone with my thoughts, Agent Smith finally enters the interrogation room.

And he has a smile on his face. But not just any smile.

A bad one.

"What's with the ugly smile?" I ask, raising a brow.

"I just remembered that the day you tried to escape, I never told you what I discovered about your dear friend, rest her soul, Elizabeth."

"Lizzy's . . . she's-"

"Dead." Agent Smith finishes coldly.

I look down, not wanting to see his face. She's not dead. I know it. He's just saying this to make me say what he wants me to say. To confess.

"No she's not." I reply, shaking my head.

"Yes, sadly, she is."

I blink back tears. This is just what he wants. I have to stay strong.

"But, I guess she did deserve it." Agent Smith continues.

I glare at him. "No, she didn't. She was a better human being than you will ever be!"

He smirks. "Did she tell you that she was driving while intoxicated?"

"Yeah."

"Did she tell you that she hit and killed someone? A male someone?"

"She did?" I try to sound not as surprised as I really am.

"Yes, she did. A man named . . . oh what was it." He looks through a file. Her file. "Ah, Jeremiah Carter."

"No. No. She didn't." I shake my head.

Oh, but she did." He slides a piece of paper across the table to me.

I don't look at it. I don't need to look at it. I don't want to look at it. So, I don't.

After a few moments of silence, he takes the paper back. Shoving it back into the file, he stands to leave.

"No matter what you think of her, she will always be a killer." He says, closing the door behind him.

I know she didn't. She couldn't have. She didn't kill my father.

The same guard from before unstraps me and takes me out to the hallway. We walk in complete silence. Not that I want to talk. Soon we arrive at my cell and he unlocks the door. He pushes me inside and then locks the door.

I stand in the middle of my cell, deep in thought. Memories come back, moments that could have happened, the ones that didn't, and ones that hurt me too much.

I lie down on my bed and let sleep take me. Maybe my dreams won't hurt me tonight.

"Ready or not! Here I come!" My father exclaims, walking down the bedroom hallway.

A four year old Jane quietly hides under her bed. Her hands clasped around her mouth, in attempt to stop the giggles that were threatening to escape. Opening the door, my father enters my room, smiling like a complete idiot.

"Where could she be?" He asks to himself, well, as a joke. He knows exactly where she is. Where I was.

He stops at the side of the bed. Young Jane holds her breath. He drops to his knees and looks underneath the bed.

"Found you!" He reaches out and helps young Jane out from under the bed.

Jane is giggling like crazy and my father laughs with her.

I sit up quickly. My breaths quicken. I haven't dreamed about my father for two years. And know I why I never wanted to think about him.

Because it hurts.

***************

I have been up for hours. Not daring to go back to sleep. I don't want to have my dreams . . . or nightmares, I should say, haunt me.

I keep thinking about an escape plan, but no matter what, it always ends up with me being captured once again. I will be stuck here forever.

I guess that's my punishment.

But I won't go down without a fight!

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Hey all! So, I decided that Fault Line will have two more stories after this. YAY! It will be a trilogy now! *applause* Thank you, thank you. *bows*

Good day!

Adria out.