The Unspoken Truth

Chapter Fourteen [Edited]

CHAPTER FOURTEEN

Cassie's POV

        I get the feeling someone is watching me more often now. Most of the time I am at home, in the dark of the night, at the universe's mercy. I don't like being at anyone's mercy, much less the universe. The idea of it haunts me until I can't see straight and I'm imagining frightening creatures behind every corner. I hear sounds. The banging of plates, wisps of wind flying past my ears. All those times before, some part of me knew it wasn't real. That my mind was just playing reckless tricks on me. Not this time though. This time it feels so real I can almost taste it.

        Salt. That's what fear tastes like. Like beans doused in pepper or what your mouth tastes like five minutes after you eat salami. Maybe it would be bearable if you could just taste the salt. But you can feel the salt. Feel it as it seeps into your taste buds, hitting even the ones science teachers tell you are supposed to taste flavors besides salt. But everything feels like salt. That kind of mortal fear is so hard to describe, it goes unmentioned in book after book on physiology. It's the kind of thing you won't find in a textbook. The kind of thing that you only know about only if you have lived in this death trap everyone calls a world.

        I know that feeling so well, and I'm feeling it again now. Someone, or something, is watching me. Don't ask me how I know because the best answer I can give you would be I can feel it. Somewhere deep down inside me. All my life, I've had catlike intuition, the kind only the people who have it believe in. Or so I thought. As I open the door to murder whoever is standing on the step, even with my intuition, I couldn't of guessed it would be Mr. Kreysten himself. "Sir!" I say, shocked.

        "Cassie," Mr. Kreysten says, relief in his voice. Two police officers come out from behind him.

        "Miss Stephenson?" they ask.

        "That's me," I say, trying to give off the calmest attitude possible. Even though my heart is threatening to break through my chest.

        "You seem like a nice young lady," one of the officers says. "We just want to ask you a few questions and we'll be on our way. This shouldn't take long."

        I smile. I know they can't see how sick I feel at the thought of them being here. My line of work has given me enough opportunities to learn first hand how to hide all my feelings. I open the door and let the men into my apartment. I can't believe this. Nobody gets by detectives. Especially not people like me.

        I am fast on my feet though, and hurry into the kitchen where the officers are pulling out clipboards and legal documents. They ask me to sit down and I shift into the seat across from them, hoping they don't notice the tension in the air surrounding me. The oldest of the two, his years etched into his face, smiles at me. I return with a nod and glance over at Mr. Kreysten. His hands are folded in his lap and he is looking at me with interest. "I am sorry, Miss Stephenson, that we had to burst in like this. We have a very important matter to discuss," the younger one says. I hope he doesn't notice the sheen of sweat coating my hands.

        "Please note anything you say or do may be used against you in the court of law," the older one added. "You have the right to remain silent." I say nothing and watch as the younger one sifts through his papers.

        He looks up at his eyes lock on mine. "Do you know anything about the burning of the York Gazette building, Miss Stephenson?"

        I try not to look away as not to look suspicious. I don't want him to know how uncomfortable this setup is making me. "I know of it."

        "Were you at the sight when it was burning?"

        I hesitate. I know if I lie, the consequences will be much higher than if I tell the truth. "Yes, sir." And as I stare back into the unwavering root beer gaze of the officer across from me, I save them the trouble. I let the tense air out of my lungs. "I did it." I tell them, my voice shaking. "I burned down the York Gazette building." Mr. Kreysten's eyebrows shoot up into his hair but neither police officer seems even the least bit surprised.

        "Intentionally?" one of them asks.

        "Yes," I say, my eyes shifting to my hands. My fingers tangle at the thought of where I'll be headed to next.

        "You admitted to it much more quickly than we thought you would."

        I'm not surprised. The government always seems to know everything about everyone all the time. But I humor them. "How did you know?"

        It is Mr. Kreysten who answers that. "Cooper took these pictures." He pulls them from a folder I hadn't noticed was sitting in front of him. I run the pads of my fingers down my pixilated figure which stares out into the mess of flame.

        "I don't know why I did it," I say, without meaning to. "I guess it was just in the heat of the moment. There were newspapers sprawled out on the counters, I had a lighter, I was mad at Mr. Kreysten. All the pieces kind of fell into place." The police looked at me with a stunning sense of interest. I shook my head. "So are you going to arrest me now?"

        The older one chuckles and pulls his handcuffs from him pocket. "I guess we're obligated to do so." I stand up and let him shackle me with the metal. One officer walks ahead of me and the other stays behind, making sure I don't make a break for it. They lead me out of my house and walk me to the black police car they've got sitting on the curb. I am hustled into the backseat and sit quietly as they drive me across town to the state prison.

        I watch the changing landscape, savoring my last glimpses of my neighborhood and of my town before I am locked away for who-knows-how-long. Annie and Mason and Mr. Kreysten will be so angry when they find out. I have ashamed them in a way I can never make up for. I wonder if they'll miss me. Now I have done them so wrong, I doubt it. The police car pulls to a stop in front of the prison. The officers get out and escort me to the shiny metal barn doors. I glance behind me at the green trees lining the parking lot before I walk down the hallway and my world turns to the bland white walls of my cell.