Graverobber (BoyxBoy)

Chapter Six- I Don't Care

The next day, after hell, I'm hesitant to head home. So turn the other way and start towards the police department. The Everstole police department is one of the crappiest. With so many rich families around, they are way too susceptible to bribery, so cases never get solved. Someone tried to cover up what happened to Caiden, and I know it had to be Holy Sepulchre. They were the ones who killed him after all.
I've been inside the police station more often than I'd like to admit. It isn't my fault exactly. Officer Jacob keeps trying to crack our secrets, but this is a century long struggle he simply isn't going to win. Grave-Defenders have always struggled against law enforcement. They don't like the fact that we teenagers are the ones doing the defending when it's supposed to be their job. I hesitate as the tall brick building with strong metal foundations comes into view. I'm not supposed to be here. I'm not supposed to help them—to tell them our secrets. Grave-Defending is my job, it always has been. Except it won't be for much longer if I get killed. I stare at the flag of Everstole flying high from the building, next to the Michigan flag. The Everstole flag has the image of a fox, staring into the eyes of a lion. Our town's motto is an odd one "Who will make the first move?" I say it's the lion. Always the lion who makes the first move. It's too strong and will crush the fox. I'm like the fox. I can give into the lion, or I can change things. I can outsmart it, only if I take the first step.

"I make the first move," I whisper, and smile. After all, Susan did tell me there was nothing wrong with getting help. I step into the building.

"Dreue Bittencourt, I presume?" The secretary startles when I walk in.

I nod. Another desk worker notices me, "...the Grave-Defender?" I hear him mutter to another. Whispers spread. I straighten my spine, scowling. Is it really that rare for a Grave-Defender to willingly walk into the police station?

"Great, let me alert Officer Jacob and D." She sends a sharp glare to one of the gossiping pages, and the man drags himself to his feet. It's the same dude that gave me hot chocolate.

"Oh. Right. Err, follow me." He takes me down the familiar twists and niches of the department, and I catch him throwing heated glances at me when he thinks I'm not looking. And when I'm looking too, at that. Not a very bright one, it seems. He stops at a conference room, one different from the several I've been through before. This one appears less like a cozy staff lounge, and more like...an interrogation room almost.

"Here you are—umm—sir?" The man says, nervously. He holds his gaze and his blue eyes are somehow warm. I'm used to this kind of treatment, but still find myself mocking him, "Sir? You're older than me dude."

He fidgets, "Not by much really. I'm a senior at your school. I've seen you around..." he shuts his mouth with a snap. "I'm gonna stop rambling. Good day." He leaves me to my interrogation room, and disappears in a flash. I raise my eyebrows. That guy was even worse than Alex. What's up with him? Anxiety? But not quite. It seemed almost...fake?

I get seated into a chair that's hard and cold, but I don't mind. I wonder if that's what Alex would have turned out to be like, if he wasn't a Grave-Defender. A nervous wreck and a nobody. Had defending been good for him, in a twisted way? Would any one of us be the people we are today if it weren't for the Graves? I stare at the room with no windows and gray walls. Maybe I shouldn't be doing this. Why am I trying to change something that I don't even care about that much. I'm no revolutionary. So what if I might get killed? All the better—

"Second thoughts?" I startle, and look to the door frame where a boy walks in. A teenager, maybe a year or two older than me? There's something startlingly familiar about him...I see a cut on his chin.

"Wait why are you here?" I stand. "You're that guy from the Holy Sepulchre. Irie, right?"

"I asked you a question first." He walks in and seats himself on the chair across from me, "Are you having second thoughts?"