Kill Your Darlings

After: Liberation

“They’ll come after you, you know,” Spencer says. He’s sitting at his usual spot with his feet propped on the coffee table, throwing a hacky sack in the air.

You’re at your desk, deleting a surplus of missed calls. “I know.”

“The last one was real sloppy.”

“I know.”

“You think we should get rid of the car? Someone probably saw it.”

You shake your head calmly. “No, keep it in the driveway. I’ve got a story planned.”

“I know you do. I just wanted to see if you’d back out.”

You’re about to scold him until he smiles, which causes you to lean back in your seat and stare in awe. How could something like him be so close to a person like you?

When you look away and go back to your work, Spencer hums a slow tune. It sounds like a melody from the Victorian era, notes deep and dragging yet dancing with a taunting beat. He keeps at it even though it bothers you, and you keep silent even though you should tell him to stop. This is how it works, and there’s no point making changes.

Knock, knock, knock.

The sound comes from your office door. Spencer’s disruptive humming comes to a stop once the sound travels throughout the room. He looks at you, a slow grin spreading across his face.

“They’re here.”

It hasn’t been long since you’ve returned from completing the game, yet here they are already. Spencer has been convinced that it would be awhile until they came for you, but you knew better. After all, you can see what he can’t.

You stand from behind the desk. There’s confidence in your step as you head over to the door, ironing out your clothes before pulling it open.

Two officers stand at the doorstep, bulky figures towering over your own frame. Yet you straighten your back like you have the authority, letting a smile slip through as you meet their eyes.

“Can I help you, gentlemen?”

One officer steps forward, holding your gaze. “May we come in?”

You look over at Spencer, who gives you a nod. Stepping aside, the officers walk through the doorway and into the office.

“What’s the problem?” you ask as you shut the door. “Is this dealing with one of my patients? Because I keep their files ready for instances like these—”

“We’re just here to ask some questions,” one officer says while the other—noticeably smaller—wanders around the office. “Something terrible has happened at a university in the next city, and we just came to see if you knew anything about it.”

“That’s terrible. Please, take a seat. Would you like some coffee?”

The officers decline the coffee yet sit at the loveseat. Spencer rises from the armchair and circles them with careful steps, odd eyes watching their every move.

“The small one’s soft,” he observes, which nearly makes you smile.

After fixing your own cup, you sit at the armchair in front of the two men, back straight and eyes free from guilt. “What can I help you with?”

“We just want to know where you were a few days ago,” the smaller one says. “We asked around town and people said they hadn’t seen you for a while.”

“I was dealing with family matters. When it was resolved, I went over to Strathlorne to see one of my professors. I was near the city, you see, so I thought I’d do good to visit him.”