Disturbing the Comfortable
~One~
[i don’t know how police stuff work *sobs*] [Everything I know comes from detective novels – and shows]
I taught myself how to be a great liar. Stare them in the eye, let your face relax, and spin them a story. Not too elaborate, but not too bland. Throw some details in there, toss some jokes, mix it all around, and you got yourself a hell of a lie.
Of course, perfection comes with practice. Luckily, I had tons of that.
Every time I went to school with a new wound or bruise, and my schoolmates asked, I always had a perfect explanation.
“I got that one when I climbed a tree and fell!” I declared one day, pointing at a gash on my leg. The next week, I spread rumors that I had gotten a new bruise on my cheek when I got into a scuffle with the school bully. He denied it, obviously, but bruises talked louder than words.
Unfortunately, my classmates weren’t the only ones who noticed my scars. A few months later, Ms. Sallow, the school counselor, pulled me out of class to speak quietly to me in the hallway.
“Are you okay?” she asked, concern filling her big doe eyes as she eyed the line-up of purple swelling going down my arm.
I gave her a great, big smile, exactly like my mother taught me. “Don’t worry, Ms. Sallow! I’m doing perfectly fine.”
Ms. Sallow shook her head, as if that were the wrong answer. “Come with me,” she said, turning around and heading down the hallway. I followed her. Ever so often, Ms. Sallow glanced back at me, as if to make sure I was still there. That was silly. Where would I go?
After a few minutes, we arrived at the office. Ms. Sallow pulled open the door, gesturing for me to walk in.
The principal avoided my eyes as she spoke. “We, uh, reported your situation to authorities,” she said.
I raised an eyebrow. “What situation?”
“Well, we know it must’ve been hard for both you and your mother after you lost your father in an accident—”
“It wasn’t an accident,” I interrupted swiftly. Ms. Sallow and the principal gave each other a surprised look. I cleared my throat and smiled. “But do go on.”
“Your, ah, state classifies as an investigation [wording] for child neglect and abuse,” the principal fiddled with her fingers, still avoiding my eyes. “In the meantime, your mother is at the police station, currently under arrest—”
“Can I see her?”
The principal finally met my eyes, surprise flickering across her face. “Yes, you may, but—”
“Wonderful. Can I go right now?”
I saw Ms. Sallow look at me from the corner of my eye. The principal’s gaze flitted to the phone. “Technically, we can’t stop you,” she said slowly.
Ms. Sallow stiffened. But alas, a few minutes later, I was in a police cruiser, bag in my hand, heading to the station.
“Now remember,” what’s-her-name said, walking stiffly. I followed after her, my eyes on the ground. “Everything you say in the room is confidential, so you don’t have to worry about us listening to your conversation.” She threw open a door, gesturing for me to sit on the lone chair in the middle of the room. “But if you do need help or support, just call out, and we’ll come.”
I thanked her. She nodded at me before exiting the room.
A giant wall of glass connected the room I was in to another one right across, like the ones you see in movies or shows. Of course, this wasn’t a fictional world, though. It was real life.
A moment later, my mother was ushered in on the opposite side of the glass. She was handcuffed to the chair, her usually neat hair in a mess. Her bloodshot eyes found me. She gasped, lurching forward.
“Listen to me—you need to tell these people that I’m not hurting you. I- I would never-”
“You did to Dad.”
Her jaw hung open, but snapped closed a second later. Her eyes narrowed. “Now, listen to me, you little brat, I don’t know what lies you’ve been deluding yourself with, but it was an accident, what happened that night.” Mother’s eyes were hard, like chips of rock.
“Everything we say is confidential, Mother.” I cocked my head and smiled. “You can tell me. Why did you do it?” I leaned forward.
She stiffened, glancing around the room as if looking for a camera or microphone, or anything. Her eyes found mine. “You’re lying.”
I shrugged. “Perhaps. But remember, you can end up with six years in jail for child abuse. And I do believe Grandma would be more than happy taking me in…”
Mother gaped at me again. “You scheming, little snake—”
“Clock’s ticking.”
“How could you do this to me? I took care of you for years, stuck up with you and your father’s crap—”
“Until you didn’t and murdered him. The question is: why?”
Mother inhaled sharply. “Answer my question first. Why are you framing me?”
I laughed. Mother was startled. She jerked backwards, as if my laughter had personally attacked her. “Why not? You killed my father, so I’m taking you to jail. Eye for an eye, am I right?”
She swallowed. “I did it…because I was with another.”
That shook me. I’d assumed it was for money, or because she couldn’t put up with Dad’s dream of graduating from college, but never that it was for cheating. I didn’t think Mother could stoop so low. Guess you could never depend on her for anything. “Interesting.”
I stood up. “Good talk, Mother. Have fun in jail.”
“Wait!” she shrieked after me. I looked over my shoulder.
“Yes?”
“You’re not going to deny the case?”
“Why would I? Murder is 25 years.”
With that, I left. She should’ve been grateful, really, that I got her into jail for only six years. Sure, it had been a hard process. I had to give myself all those bruises and scars and wounds and plaster a big, bright smile all over my face. I had to teach myself how to lie, how to play on people’s pity, how to spin stories so believable that the only way for people to become suspicious was if there were too many lies. I had to starve myself until my ribs poked through my shirts, and my eyes were sunken. But it was worth it. My plan had worked perfectly. I had caught the attention of my school’s councilors, gotten payback for Dad, for me.
As I exited the room, my mother was still screaming curses after me. The officer from earlier came up to me. “How are you doing?”
“Fine. Though I would prefer it if I never saw her again.” I gave her a blank smile, and she gave me a shaky one back. Just another lie, after all.
