"Look, Mr. Hotchner, Agent Hotchner, Hotch, my brother is dead, we've dealt with it already, I have a life, people I need to take care of, the last thing I need to do is throw my family into any unknown water anytime soon bringing this back up," I s...
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~ you make pain sound so hauntingly beautiful ~
My pencil fly's across the college ruled paper, my handwriting in a flowy cursive.
Right before Ms. Demarco taps my shoulder, I turn around, glaring, "What," I ask in a flat voice.
I was tired.
Exhausted.
Barely got any sleep last night.
I couldn't get the image of Max's dead body out of my head.
On top of that my mom had been gone for a week, no calls, no note.
She was a crappy mother don't get me wrong, but Taylor's barely 2 years old, someone needs to watch him.
I was up all night with him, he was running a horrible fever but I couldn't take him to the hospital because we had no adult with us.
They'd ask to many questions, get us split up.
Glaring at me for my tone of voice, she moves her arm away from me, "There is some people here to talk to you," she informs me, earning a curt nod.
Finishing my sentence for my essay on Genocide, I hand it to her, rolling my eyes at her shocked face.
The bitch first got mad at me for using the wrong font on my paper so she made me write it on paper, then when I wrote it on paper she got mad at me for using a pen, so I used a pencil and wrote in cursive, making sure everything was legible.
I walk out of the classroom, pulling my backpack up on my shoulders, noticing three people at the end of the hallway.
Assuming those were who wanted to talk to me, I walk down the hall, meeting them half way, "Tatum Cortes?" the Latino female in the middle questions, her bright red lipstick blinding me for a second.
I nod, honestly annoyed by her already.
Exchanging looks with the people next to her, Latino skinned man makes eye contact with me, "My name is SSA Mateo Cruz, this is Special Agent Natalie Colfax with the FBI, and that's Agent Walker with Interpol," he introduces them, seemingly letting me know he's in charge.
I raise my eyebrows in question, earning a look from Mr. FBI, "Aren't you going to ask why we're here?" Mateo questions.
Tilting my head to the side I scoff lightly, "Isn't that your job?" I ask, a hint of sarcasm laced into my voice.
This Walker dude holds back his laugh, making me smile slightly, I like him.
SSA Cruz adjusts his tie in annoyance, "Walk with us," he states instead of asks.
