Blinded

2. An Escape

An escape

Stepping out of the car, I had a while to look at the station. It looked modern, like it had just gotten a remodel. It looked quite different from the houses surrounding it, all old Colonials like everywhere else in my town. It had white-painted brick walls, clean of graffiti, and a shiny, new metal door. It looked a bit like a prison, since there weren't any windows directly to the outside. But I guess that's just a security measure. I hefted my bag and walked in.

As I came in, a welcome blast of forced-air heat hit me as I took in the inside of the building. It had black and white alternating tiles on the floor, and I guessed the renovation had only re-done the outside of the place, because the inside still looked pretty dingy.

An old woman sat behind the front desk and she perked up as she saw us walk in.

"Mr. and Mrs. DeLana, I just got Officer Marten's call. Go to room 3, first door to your left." Then, she looked at me. "As for the girl... Room 2. Same direction."

My parents and I walked as instructed, but something felt off once I saw the rooms. They weren't like meeting rooms or offices, no.

These were for interrogation.

Dark grey walls and a metal table. Three chairs.

The one my parents went into had one inky-black in there already, plus the one that came to our house- the one that called me miss- made two for them. There were two in the room I was about to go into.

My mother took one look inside and her dark eyes widened. "Sir, I'm sure there's been some mistake. We aren't suspects, we just reported a kidnapping. Why are we-"

The officer sighed. "We don't exactly have a meeting room open at the moment. This is just an interim thing." I know I'm terrible at telling lies from truth, but I think this guy is worse at lying than I am at discerning lies.

My mother seemed to notice my expression, but sighed and walked in. She gave me one last glance, full of fear but hiding it well in her posture and angry expression, but her eyes couldn't lie. She disappeared through the doorway. My father did the same. I walked into my interrogation room and there were already two officers there. Why would they send two whole people to interrogate-slash-ask-stuff-of a literal 14-year-old? My parents got two, but I'm just one person. What's going on?

The two officers were both sitting on one side of the table that, in all its plain silver metallic glory, was the only thing of real substance in the room. One chair sat on the other side, the one nearest to the door I just walked through, and the officer on the left beckoned me to sit.

I did, and the other one, whose name tag read Sgt. Dale pulled a file out and placed it on the table. He opened it and inside was a picture of my sister and an empty sheet of lined paper.

A confession? "A witness statement." Dale looked at me and his expression turned very, very strange. He turned to the other officer- aptly named Sgt. Short- and they began speaking in some foregin language. Are they supposed to do that?

Short whispered, "Ille phije sen ez Affrielle. Cuandol eshar?" It sounded like Spanish mixed with something else. I, once again, had no idea.

Dale glanced at me and went right back to whispering. "Se. Per Maet's redeurs me et tu mil fine su vive." Okay. I'm solidly sure that it's Spanish. I should've paid more attention in that class. Whatever it is, they want to..end something? And what's an Afffrielle?

Short abruptly stood, slamming his hands on the table. "¿Calo sen ez empoure? ¿Calo sen ez oculasion?"

"English, please!"

"What is your power? Why do you hide it? And why did Maet want your sister and not you?"

"I don't know why I have them! And why should I know why they wanted Laurie and not me? And who's Maet-"

Dale turned to me and began to screech, a sound that made my blood run cold. His eyes went glassy and then the whites of his eyes turned red, and the iris and pupil went pure, snowy white.

I screamed as Dale did the same. I tried to conjure an illusion of me running to the far corner of the room to distract them, but the image flickered as pain sparked behind my eyes.

Concentrate. I put all my might into it now, trying to ignore the pain. You have to.

Turns out, I really didn't.

Someone came into the room, crashing through the two-way mirror on the wall behind the officers. As glass rained over everything in the room, he tackled Dale, and looked up at me as he punched Dale in the face. "Do your...whatever it is! Now!"

I came face-to-face with Short. I threw a punch but he caught my arm, twisting it and pushing me back. I rebounded off the wall and came right back, slamming my foot into his gut. He doubled over and I kicked again, this time catching him right in the head. He fell to the left.

The boy still fought Dale, and after a moment he ducked and landed a final hit. Dale crumpled.

After a minute, we were the only two left standing. A hood draped over his head, so I only got a good look at him once he took it off, breathing heavily from the impromptu boxing match. He had sky-blue eyes, pale skin, curly blond hair, and a small smile. Not mischievous or anything, just plain old happy. He looked about my age.

"I guess we should get out of here," He started a bit awkwardly.

"Who are you?" I asked, my heart still racing from what had happened.

"Your woooorst niiiightmaare," He smiled even more. "Just kidding. I'm Cam. You?"

"Bella," I replied, grabbing my bag. "And you're right. We really should get out of here." Just as I finished, an alarm sounded, blaring in the background. I barely thought about my parents, because I knew they had no powers of their own and therefore weren't at risk. I knew I'd regret that later, but later wasn't too important then. I had more to worry about than frivolous little things like, you know, getting in trouble with the police.

We ran, but not the way I came. He hopped back over the jagged edge of the window's frame and I followed, scraping my shins and ankles on the edges in the process, but the jolt of adrenaline that gave me was all I cared about, pushing the pain into the periphery of my mind.

On the other side of where the glass used to be were two more officers knocked out with what looked like deadly precision on the floor. As we left the viewing room, we took a sharp right and sprinted out into the early morning cold.