I was hauled off to the local police station and thrown immediately into a holding cell. I had been stripped searched and forced to hand in all my possessions; my black shirt, my ripped jeans, my black blazer, my boots, my skull ring, and my necklace. In replace of all that was an orange jumpsuit, which was way too big for me, and a pair of silver handcuffs restraining my wrists together.
The cop who took me into custody was looming over me; eyeing me every few seconds. "Do you have any money for an attorney?" he asked.
"No."
"I will have to put some paperwork in to get you one then."
I couldn't focus. My mind was wandering furiously. What happened to Clare and Adam? Did they bring them in too? Were they home, safe and sound where they belonged? Were they worried? I had to know. "What happened to my friends?"
"Don't worry. They've been driven home by my partner. Your car was towed for evidence. "
"Evidence for what?" I blurted out even though I already knew. It was for the murder of my deceased best friend. It wasn't me. I knew it wasn't. It had taken me many sleepless nights and anxiety attacks to finally convince myself of otherwise.
"Don't pretend you don't know, kid. There are sources that say you murdered that boy a few years back. It may be a while before you get out of here." His voice hid a trace of happiness almost as if he was glad to see me sitting here unable to do anything, but listen to his words. "According to my sergeant, I'm not allowed to start interrogations until I get you an attorney so, you'll just have to stay put."
"Yeah because I could really go anywhere," I snapped lifting up my wrists just faintly off the table. I jingled the handcuffs.
The officer was not amused by my joke. However, I didn't even know why I was making one. I was scared more like petrified of being here. My life was finally reaching the standard of normal. I was starting to feel happy, alive, and worth something. If that was all coming true then, why was I in a holding cell being prepared to be investigated for a crime I didn't commit? I was left alone to ponder my thoughts, my options, and my fears.
What did I know? Well I was in a damp, gray cell, with one cutout window overlooking the inside of the station, a metal table with one chair on each side, and one metal door that was the only way in or out. I closed my eyes and Clare's face came into view, smiling, almost as a sign that things would be okay, but I didn't feel that way. I knew, from the moment I walked in, that the odds were severely against me. A troubled teenager who got into a fight with his best friend, things didn't work out, and then he's dead a month later? That didn't sound suspicious at all.
My hands were trembling by this point. My heart was thumping so fast I could have sworn I felt it scraping against the layer of my chest.
The front door to the holding cell opened and revealed a different officer and my mother. My blood began to bubble.
"Your mother is here to see you." And before my mother sat down across from me, the door was slammed shut.
"Hello, Eli," she said in an even lower pitch then a whisper.
"Hi," was all I could manage to say.
"Things aren't looking too good at this point."
I didn't even bother to try and tell myself she cared. "I always admired your optimism, mom."
"Keep making smart remarks like that and you'll be convicted faster then you can spell the damn word."
I leaned in closer to her; my wrists slightly tingling from pulling on the handcuffs. "Why do you care?"
She shifted a little in her seat obviously uncomfortable both by my threatening sense of voice and the hard metal of the chair. "I want you to finally accept this instead of being in denial all the time."
I was dumbfounded. My own mother was completely convinced that I was guilty. I wish she would have been there the night Bryan died and witnessed what I had to witness. I wish she would have sensed the blood of another on her, but then again, she already had. My blood was on her fingertips when she cut me, but that didn't faze or bother her in any way. I grew angrier then I already was when she walked in. I slumped into my chair and tapped my foot almost at a pencil dropping silence to distract me from the thought of rage.
"Your father had finally left. We had the chance to be a real family, Elijah, but you had to go and screw it up. I had to find a place for us to move and drop my job. I did that all for you and you didn't once show you were grateful." My mom pulled out a tissue from her bag and began to dab her eyes which from my view didn't seem to have tears in them.
"I was never grateful because you never showed that you cared about anything I was going through." The answer was simple and to the point.
"If I didn't care then Elijah, why would I leave everything behind to take you to a place far away? Why didn't I just let you stay there and rot with the torment? I knew you'd suffer so I re routed –"
I couldn't listen to any more of her bullshit. "The only reason you left is so you wouldn't have to deal with the whole neighborhood saying that I was a bad seed. You can't even dare to try and tell me other wise."
She clasped her hands tightly together and let them rest on the table that was separating us. "I don't know where your father and I went wrong with you. You were such a beautiful child growing up."
"What am I to you now, mom? I'd love to hear this." I kicked the leg of the table as hard as I could which triggered my mom to jump up from her seat.
She backed up a few steps. "You're a monster."
I let out a small chuckle and flashed a snarl; the right ends of my upper and bottom lip curled upward. "You can't even begin to imagine the monster I could be to you mom, after how you treated me for all these years." The threat released an immediate effect for I could feel the fright my mother now held inside of her.
She flattened out the bottom of her skirt and sat back down. "You know, Elijah, I'm glad I gave the cops an anonymous tip."
"YOU DID WHAT?" I bellowed. I rose up from my seat and kicked the chair so hard it flew back into the wall of the cell. It clanged hard against the wall leaving the room echoing for a few seconds. My temper had never reached such a boiling point before. The insides of my forehead were throbbing. My muscles were tightened all over and I didn't want to stop screaming.
"You needed an act of discipline. You were –"
"YOU HIT ME AND LEFT ME ABANDONED FOR MONTHS WHILE YOU WORKED. I PUT UP WITH YOUR EXCUSE YOU CALLED A FAMILY AND I'M HERE FOR FUCKING YELLING AT YOU?" I never once was a fan of cursing, but I couldn't find any other words to describe how I felt inside.
I saw that I was now drawing attention. At least three pairs of eyes were staring at me through the window. I couldn't give an ounce of care. That woman was not my mother, but the spawn of the devil himself. She portrayed herself as some poor charity case; her husband walked out on her, her son was a delinquent, but yet she was the ringleader of all things gone wrong.
"I put you here because you needed to pay for your actions. If you couldn't have paid the price Elijah, then you shouldn't have done the crime."
I slammed the handcuffs onto the table. "I PAID THE DAMN PRICE MOM WITH MY SOUL. THE HEARSE, THE BLACK CLOTHING, THE HOURS OF BEING LOCKED IN MY ROOM WAS ALL THE WAYS I REMINDED MYSELF OF WHAT HAPPENED. I TORTURED MYSELF UNTIL I HAD ALMOST LOST MY SANITY!" I locked eyes with her and felt a sudden knot in my throat like I was going to cry. "You didn't once take notice that I was dying on the inside." My voice had cracked and I could feel tears on the waterlines of my eyes.
"I don't need to suffer anymore of this abuse from you. I just hope you finally learn a lesson." She clutched her purse and proceeded to leave unaffected by my sudden meltdown what so ever.
"You are a coldhearted bitch if you can do this to your own son." I was no longer angry, just numb.
My mother stopped and turned to face me. "You are no son of mine, Elijah Goldsworthy." And with that she turned the handle of the door, which an officer had unlocked for her, and she exited the station not once glancing behind her.