Inveigle

Chapter Eleven: Words Can't Be Twisted if They're Silenced

I wasn't surprised when Pam turned the television back on and my visage appeared. I was haggard and the scratches on my forehead gave me a rough appearance, but I was more shocked to see how calm my face appeared. How determined my eyes were when I knew I was on the edge of passing out from fear inside. Hell, I looked like a badass.

The news breezed over my speech and focused instead on how repairs to the Persim Towner security fence were already underway. Tower security claimed a protester tried to climb the fence and triggered the emergency alarm. It was all automated, no one had tried to intentionally hurt a protestor by activating the shield. A simple misunderstanding, obviously. But now that it was brought to their attention about how the barrier had nearly killed civilians, they were installing an extra measure that required a person to manually okay the use of deadly force. No mention of who that task would fall to.

I was shaking with fear, anger, and exhaustion in the chair next to Pam. I felt my muscles vibrating in me like taught rubber bands. For the second time that day, Pam turned the television off.

The Palace was uneventful for the rest of the evening. I was grateful for the calmness. I sat on the faded pink chair with a bag of ice on my chin, thinking about what to do next. I had been reckless, and now others were in danger because of me. Me, the first person to lead a protest in the country in years, and a protest during the most popular president in all of history.

The bleeding had stopped now, and my only jacket was soaking in the SCLRDS in a bath of soapy water trying to get the red droplets out of the canvas fabric. The only slightly interesting part was when Pam tried to kick Sam out, but Nathan talked her out of it. The excitement had gone like this.

Pam had set an old grocery bag down by the front door. Inside were the only things Sam had brought with him that wasn't on his person, an extra pair of gloves and a white undershirt that I had washed with the bedding yesterday. She had even been so kind as to put the rolled up newspaper that he had been reading in the bag. Sam had come peering down the hall, clearly looking for his missing articles. When he saw them by the door he slunk defeated into the red chair next to me. He put his head in his hands and waited for Pam to come with the final shove out the door. I checked all of the remaining guests out as he sat there. Each family claimed their insurance would cover hotel stay in a nicer part of town while they waited for a new home. Since there were no televisions in the guest rooms, no one recognized me.

I was in the SCLRDS putting my jacket in the dryer when I heard Pam shouting from the top of the stairs, "Oh, you're still here!" Her feet creaked down the steps as she continued, "So I guess that means when I look in the register you paid for tonight's stay. Wonderful!" She clapped her hands together in mock glee when she reached the bottom of the steps. I moved to stand in the doorway of the SCLRDS. I saw Nathan already standing in his doorway, leaning on the wooden frame. Pam walked past my line of vision from the hall and heard the register slide open.

"No, no, no. I've the Johnston's family receipt, the Browns'..."

I could just picture her wrinkled eyes giving Sam the death glare as he sat frozen in her red chair.

Nathan pushed himself from the doorway and walked to the lobby. Ava appeared in the doorway to take his place, taking the exact same stance as her grand daddy had.

"Now listen here," Nathan's voice was soft in comparison to Pam's, "it's winter. You can't just kick this boy out."

"Boy? Boy? What are you? 23?"

Sam did not reply.

"I ain't makin' no money. This is a business. My livelihood. It's-"

"I didn't pay you for tonight, and you ain't made a move to throw us out in the cold."