Saving Jasper | ✓ [COMPLETE]

Chapter 6 - In Milkshake Heaven

    “He understands what he did was wrong,” I said to Dad, for what felt like the one-hundreth time. Jasper sat in a closed-off room, by himself. He sat at a card-playing table, beneath a simple, glowing light bulb. The detective had been in there a moment before, but he left before questioning Jasper. I was glad he left, because I knew Jasper wouldn't feel comfortable answering the detective's questions.

“Are you sure about that, Charlie?” He looked at me firmly, his arms folded across his chest. I swallowed hard and looked back through the one-way glass window. Jasper was sitting back in his chair, staring at his hands placed in his lap. I, and most likely only I, knew how uncomfortable he must have felt--sitting alone in there. I was certain Jasper understood we weren't happy with him. While he might not have known exactly why, I'm sure he could clearly figure it out by the looks on our faces.

"Yes," I murmured. "Can I talk to him?" They didn't answer me, instead simply looked at me. "Please?" I added when, still, they said nothing.The men in the room--two cops, Dad, and two detectives--eyed one another. With a slight sigh, the taller policeman nodded ever so slightly, and pulled a key from his back pocket. My eyes widened with shock. Did they seriously lock Jasper in that room? I thought with disgust. They acted as if he was a rabid animal on the loose. Dad watched me as I rose from my simple, metal chair and followed the man over to the door. He unlocked the door and opened it, gesturing for me to step inside.

When I did, he closed the door behind me and left it unlocked. I figured they trusted me enough with Jasper, that if he would go off on a tyrant, I would hold him back while they got a head start. Jasper looked up when the door shut. The expression on his face told me he still knew who I was. Which also meant he remembered everything else, too.

"Hey Jasper," I said softly, sitting down across from him. I leaned my arms on the table and leveled my gaze with his. He looked upset--whether it be with himself, or just in general.

"They're mad at me, aren't they?" he asked, in a surprisingly normal voice.

I frowned at him. Why couldn't they see how upset he was with himself? Why couldn't they see that every little thing caused him confusion, anger and hurt? It wasn't his fault. None of it was. Not even the fact that he left. He wanted coffee--just like half the world's population nowadays. Thinking back to the coffee reminded me of something.

The blood trail.

I pushed it to the back of my mind and decided to question Dad about it later. Surely the police had found out what it was by now and informed him as well. To reassure myself, I did a quick sweep of the exposed parts of Jasper. His arms and face were bare, unmarked. I gave a silent breath of relief and looked back up to meet his eyes.

"They're not mad. They couldn't be mad. We were all worried about you," I admitted. Jasper's face fell and he looked down at his hands. I waited for him to look back up, but he didn't. My heart ached for him again. Because I agreed to this, I felt I had to do everything in my power to take away his pain. And when something went wrong, I felt responsible. Like his leaving for coffee. Something so innocent and simple, turning out to be a catastrophe.

"And mad, you have to admit," he finally said.