The Last of Us

Forty-Two

Who do you trust in a world where powerful people are often the most corrupt?

I'd been hassled by radio and talk shows for months after everything happened to me, but I'd passed on most of them when I was always asked the same mundane questions.

I'd once been asked to write an article for a small indie journal. It was one of the few interviews that I chose to do willingly. They asked me the above question about how Jason abused his right as an adult.

It relates more now, though. I've been thinking more about Danni's theory since I saw her at the hospital.

I'd pulled up the essay I'd written for the journal, reviewing the ideas I'd discussed years ago. Everything still applies, but in a much deeper sense.

I didn't want Danni to be correct, but it all added up. I understood that sometimes investigations might move a little slower, but I couldn't comprehend that one could be this slow—especially such a high-profile case. There was too much a stake to be this behind.

If someone in power aided the killer, it would become much harder to stop the murders. Every time a crime is committed, who do you call if you can't trust the police?

My phone rings out for the fifth time in the past two hours that I've tried calling Ben. He's ignored my calls since I asked him about his weird encounter with Chaplin. It happened to me yesterday, too.

I've had a sick feeling in my stomach since that conversation, which has amplified everything wrong with this situation. Deep down, I knew something wasn't right, but a part of me didn't want to think about what it all meant.

Even if I had a strong inkling of what might be going on.

I try Ben one more time until it goes to voicemail. I sigh, dropping my phone on my pillow as I stare at the wall ahead.

Danni was being discharged later today, but I didn't want to involve her in anything. I know she'd get annoyed if I stopped informing her of what was happening, but I didn't know if she should concern herself after what she'd just gone through.

It was only a matter of time before she started texting me for updates. Updates I needed to figure out if I should give.

That was one positive of having no updates; I wouldn't have to lie to Danni about it.

My thoughts slowly filter back to Ben and why he felt the need to back himself and look guilty. Ignoring my calls only meant that I'd have more questions for him.

I throw my legs over the bed, stepping into my slippers. I'd have to face him in person if he wouldn't respond to me virtually. If he didn't want to talk the easy way, only the hard way remained.

The wind whips at my face as I leave the house, shutting the door behind me. I march towards his home with purpose, trying to remain calm. There was no reason to be annoyed at him yet. He may have a perfect explanation.

I knock on the front door, pulling it back firmly a few times until I'm satisfied that the sound has echoed throughout the house.

I check my phone to see if Ben has miraculously chosen to send me a text at least, but my notifications remain empty.

Why am I starting to look psychotic? I'm not even dating the guy.

It's deeper than that, though. I know something is happening, and I desperately need the answers before going insane.

The door swings open violently on its hinges, and I step back, slightly alarmed at the ferocity.

Matt stares back at me, glaring with all his might before his face suddenly goes stoic. He blinks a few times before his cheeks redden in embarrassment.