Through Her Shattered Eyes ✔

Chapter 16

As we pull up to the parking lot of Allison's apartment complex, I look at the building from my side of the window. It actually looks pretty nice for a complex near a rehab center. It's well kept and the plants are nicely trimmed. Nothing's out of place. I don't know what I was expecting it to look like but it definitely isn't how I pictured it to look at all.

Nathan and I climb out of his car and start making our way to Allison's unit. She lives up on the third floor, first door to the right. It doesn't take long to find. Nathan knocks on her front door this time. It takes another two more before the door opens and she appears behind it, her hair somewhat messy and her clothes all wrinkled. The lady seems to be out of it.

"Good afternoon. Are you Allison Stryder?"

"That depends. Who's asking?" she says, blowing a medium-sized bubble with her gum. When it pops, she sucks it back inside her mouth.

It's enough to convince me this lady is indeed Erika's Mom.

The aftermath of using weed for so long—among other things—has made her look so worn out, like she could use some major rest. Although I know she can't be any older than thirty-four or thirty-five, she looks as if she's aged ten years.

"Ma'am, I'm Officer Yamamoto and this is Ms. Morgan. We came from seeing your mother from Winston-Salem. We asked her a few questions pertaining to the death of your daughter, Erika Stryder. And we'd like to do the same with you, if you don't mind," Nathan explains.

For a minute, Allison stares at us like she's surprised, her eyes wide. "Really now? Well, this is a first."

My brows furrow. "What do you mean by that?"

"I wasn't interrogated about Erika."

"How come?" Nathan asks.

"I don't know. Maybe it's because the pigs figured since I was up to no good for a few years and was sent to jail for a laundry list of crimes, they didn't think I was sound enough to answer any questions," she snorts as she crosses her arms.

"Oh."

"Was there anything in particular you needed to know, officer?"

If it isn't because Nathan and I are on an investigation of our own, and the matter is very grave, I would've laughed at the expression on both of our faces. We're completely dumbfounded, speechless. I suppose we weren't expecting Allison to behave like this.

"I don't know if you knew about this, Ms. Stryder," I say. "but long story short, I'm the patient who received your daughter's eyes about three weeks ago. I wanted to know who these eyes belonged to and I found out they were Erika's. So—"

"Okay, and?"

"'And?' What do you mean 'and?' She was your daughter." My face reddens.

"Ma'am, we just want to ask you a few questions. That's all," Nathan speaks exasperatedly.

Sighing, and looking at the two of us, Allison nods. "All right. Fine. Come inside." She makes an exaggerated gesture for us to enter.

I go in first, swiftly observing her living space. Well, if you want to call it that. Everything she owns is all in one, huge area. A faux, black leather futon is pressed up against the wall, facing a small flatscreen. Beside the futon is a floor lamp and a small pile of clothes. Then there's the kitchen, which consists of a small fridge, stovetop, and oven. A round wooden table with two wicker chairs is right across from there. And finally, in the far corner of the room, is a queen-sized bed with the blankets and pillows in a shuffled heap. There's another door to the right I presume is the bathroom.