happy endings are for fairy tales // kiani au

THIRTY-SEVEN: JORDAN

21 august 2017

the ride to the police station had been the worse.

brayden had been arrested as soon as a teacher could subdue him. then swept away in a police car, leaving me, ryan and julio confused as we watched them handcuff him and force him into the car.

before i could head to the library and think through everything that happened, ryan grabbed my arm and pulled me towards the car park. no questions. i promised myself that would be the last time i follow what he says.

the ride itself was painfully quiet. all of us were confused. ryan drove significantly quicker than usual, the nerve at his temple bulging as his frown deepened. sat at the left backseat was julio. and as per usual, i sat in the shotgun. the right backseat had a lingering absence.

none of us wanted to talk. we didn't need to. we were all absorbed in our own worlds, yet all asking the same question: did brayden do it? if so, why?

i had felt numb. not because i didn't feel anything, but because i was feeling too much. confusion, anguish, nervousness, indignation, anger, loss. i didn't want to think. i didn't want to decide how to feel. brayden had been my close friend for years by then. of course, he was cruel in his actions. he took things too far. but that all aside, he had still been my friend once upon a time. at some point, i knew who he was. i knew he liked playing mario kart in his free time. i knew his favourite red bull flavor was the yellow edition. i knew he had fallen hopelessly in love with someone before.

how could i know so much about a person, but miss the fact that he was a killer?

as we drove down the road towards the police station, following the police car ahead of us, i knew all of us were having the same thoughts.

—

we walk down the bare hallways, doors everywhere we turn. julio knows where he is heading. ryan and i look down at the floor, concealing our faces as much as possible. officers sit in their chairs typing away at computers, yet none bat an eye. julio is a familiar face to them.

julio peers through the small windows of the doors. his eyes scan what is happening inside and then he stops dead in his tracks. two policemen are in discussions with their backs against a blue door. i squint to see through the glass, to find brayden pacing around in an interrogation room.

"my dad's the police chief of this district," julio says, catching the attention of the police officers. one blond young fellow and another older bald man. they shrink when they see him. julio points inside, "we need to talk to him. ten minutes. turn off the camera, sound recorder, everything. say it was an accident. he's doing nothing productive in there, anyway."

"sorry kid," the older officer starts, and julio's facial expression hardens, "we're scheduled to interrogate him in a few min-"

"or do i need to tell my father that you guys arrested his son's best friend for no reason but a single sentence?" julio threatens with a twinge of anger at the tip of his voice, "with no physical evidence."

the police officers exchange looks. julio takes out his phone and turns the screen to face them. on it, a voice memo is being recorded, the red line being formed and spiking with every new sound. julio puts it back in his pocket, "if anything, we're doing your job for you."