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chapter no. 001!
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❝ LOOK, KID. . . ❞ ▄▄▄▄▄▄▄▄▄▄▄▄▄▄▄▄▄▄▄▄▄▄
TICK-TOCK-TICK-TOCK.
The concept of time is fascinating to me. One day we have all the time in the world, and the next, it's as if time never existed. Time is an allusion we create to supersede the truth that we willingly let life slip past us unnoticed. Time is the puppet master of sin.
Tick-Tock-Tick-Tock.
To me, it always felt as if the hands of a clock were mocking me.
Jeering and sneering at me from where they were held high above my head. Taunting me with their never-ending knowledge of the world and what was in store for me.
Tick-Tock-Tick-Tock.
The pale white clock was nailed to the plastered grey walls of the eight-by-ten interrogation room. The hands clicked by every second, getting louder and louder every time they moved the slightest centimeter. I could only hear the sound of the clock's heartbeat; every other sound in the world didn't exist until the door to the room was opened.
The hollow black metal chair opposite of me moved back, and a dark-skinned man sat down, peering at me quizzically. He placed a brown Colombian clasped folder on the table and opened it slowly, his dark eyes never straining from mine. The man pulled out three silk-printed photographs and laid them out before leaning back in the chair. "Do you recognize these?" he asked, motioning to the photos on the table. It was evident from his expectant expression that he was awaiting a response that would indicate that I did recognize what was displayed before me. However, I kept my stone-cold blue eyes on him.
It was going to take a lot more than three explicit photographs to trigger any response.
Behind him was a two-way mirror that was impossible to see through, but I knew that there were more than at least three agents standing behind it, observing every move I made. Then, behind me, two security cameras were also capturing every move I made. They noted any form of communication or movement made in this room. Any attempt to jeopardize the plan would be captured on camera. I couldn't communicate with the man in front of me. I couldn't communicate with anyone without risking everything that had brought me here.
Risks were not allowed to be taken within the group.
Risks are what almost destroyed everything they created.
Risks are considered, by many, to be a measure of people. We consider risks to measure how much of a future there is; when a risk is taken, there is, inevitably, no future. Risk is another word for wrong. Taking a risk would always be met with an unbearable punishment.
"If you stay silent, this will go nowhere, and you will be imprisoned. We have you tied to multiple murders and have evidence of you being part of a well-known drug trafficking gang." An older Italian man remained near the door they entered through. His facial features were passive, but he looked somewhat piqued by my continual silence and lack of movement. My eyes were still on the dark-skinned man in front of me, and I hadn't blinked in one minute and forty-seven seconds. The exact time the two men had been in the room.
"The Red Scorpions. Does that name sound familiar?"
No one in my world was a stranger when it came to interrogations. I had been taught how to weasel my way out of them, how to be a master deceiver, and what the different steps of the interrogation process were ever since I was twelve. Nothing these agents did or said would be something I hadn't been trained for before. I'd been taught everything I needed to know and been given my instructions. The Red Scorpions were smart and so was I.
"What about Person X? Does that sound familiar?" As he spoke, the older agent stepped forward and raised a bushy brow in my direction.
The silence radiating off of me was deafening, and I could see it eating the two agents alive.
Both men shared a look of desperation and frustration before diverting their gaze back to my unchanged figure. "Look, kid, we're trying to help you out here. If you are in some sort of trouble or are being forced to be a part of something, we can protect you. We'll keep you safe. You just have to answer some questions and trust us." I blinked solemnly in response, keeping my eyes trained on the agent across from me.
I had the upper hand here, and everyone knew it.
These people needed answers, and I held all the keys that unlocked the secret treasure chest.
"All right, maybe staying silent is your thing; how about head motions? You don't need to speak, just nod your head for yes and shake for no." No matter what approach they tried, it wasn't going to work. I was being watched, and as long as it remained that way, I wasn't allowed to speak, move, or react. The slightest difference in my appearance or composure could jeopardize everything.
"Let's start with something easy. Is your name Cara Valentine?"
"Cara... Your father's name was concealed from the court to protect his sources. Since his name was concealed, no one will ever know who you truly are, and we need to keep it that way." I can distinctly remember Matthew Campbell saying that to me days before he was killed. No one outside the group knew of my true identity, and there were no files or documents on Cara Valentine. I was untraceable.
The fact that the feds knew my name was the one thing I had never been prepared for. We were never worried about anyone knowing who I was since I, essentially, didn't exist.
Not even a second later, I felt my face sag, giving it all away. As I quickly recovered from the minuscule moment of alarm, the men shared a look that I could not decipher. All I knew was that I had just given them their first answer.
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