Ferocious

24. Decisions part 2

I whispered it to myself. I sobbed it into my mother's shirt while she rocked me. Why? Why did I do that? Why did I kill him?

It wasn't just an accident. I had the scissors up to fight, but by then I knew Todd was shot and only Alicia and Joshua were anywhere near me.

Alicia bumped me from behind. Pushed me. Alicia pushed me as Joshua came running. I was afraid of him, but I didn't want to kill him.

It was self-defense. It was an accident. It was—

"Brooklyn, I know it's hard, but we need you to focus and answer the questions." The detective's voice cut through the noising buzz in my head.

"Why does she have to answer questions now? Look at her, she can't do it," my mom said. She covered me as best she could with her arms trying to protect me, but it was too late. I was the only monster in the room.

"Because we need answers. Two people are dead, Mrs. Hadder, and your daughter was a witness."

"No more questions. We need a lawyer first."

Detective Campbell sighed and put his hands together prayer-like. "If you wish to have a lawyer present, that is absolutely your right. I'll let you make your calls."

"Wait," I said. "Did you find Alicia? She was there, she saw Joshua come out of the cabin after the gun shot and she saw the accident when he ran into me. She gave me the scissors to hold. Did you ask her?"

"Brooklyn—"

The lawyer stood up slowly and my mother paused. "Listen, this is one of the things we need to discuss. After you told the officers at the scene that your friend Alicia had driven there, we contacted her parents. She has an alibi stating she couldn't possibly have been there."

"That's not true! She handed me the scissors, she saw everything, she—" I broke off. Of all the details, the pristine white gloves Alicia had been wearing loomed the clearest. Then I understood—there wouldn't even be finger prints on the scissors to prove my story.

"Enough." Mom was firm. "We wait for a lawyer."

He gathered his papers and left the small interrogation room. I blinked at the chipped paint of the off-white walls crowding me. There was a long crack flowing upwards next to the door, branching off like tributaries feeding into a larger river on the way to the sea. I couldn't quite remember how I got here.

It was blur—Joshua's glassy eyes, the driver stopping and then calling the police. The ride in the ambulance, Mom yelling my name, and going from building to building. I would've given anything to go home and sleep and never wake up again.

We waited. A lawyer came, someone Mom's boss recommended. The questions began.

I explained. I described. I insisted. Yes, I was kidnapped at gun point by Todd. Yes, he put me in the trunk, my hands zip tied. I showed him the marks on my wrists for the third or fourth time.

Self-inflicted. The detective didn't say the word out-loud, especially since Todd was wanted in part for trying to kidnap me before, but his thoughts were practically visible, turning in his mind. There was a possibility that I was lying about being Todd's prisoner.

"After Todd left the cabin, tell me again about Joshua's arrival and how he acted," the detective asked.

"He was strange. His eyes were funny, and the things he said didn't make sense."

"Can you explain funny? How exactly were his eyes, his pupils and his expression."

"I don't know how to explain." I dropped my head to the table with a loud whack. The shock to my forehead hurt, but the pain was a relief from the emotional anguish and the pounding headache. "Can I go home for while? I'm so tired. I need to sleep."