"Excuse me, ma'am?"
"Yes sir? Is there something I can help you with?" I ask, worry, painting my face. I look up at the tall officer.
"Yes there is, does that package belong to you?" He asks, TSA canines surrounding me.
I stand there, stunned. How did I get into this situation, how did I get into this situation? Why am I here, why did I agree? I am at the airport, waiting in line to get onto my flight.
23 minutes and 47 seconds ago I was asked to bring this package onto my flight. He said he was going to pay me. He said there was nothing bad in it. He said it had already gone through security. He said I would not get in trouble. He said it was nothing illegal. Why would he say that, if I am standing here, surrounded by TSA canines, sniffing this package. This package, that wasn't supposed to get me in trouble.
"I'm sorry sir, but I was just getting onto my flight, all of my belongings have already been through security." I say, trying to stay calm, trying not to sound guilty.
"Well ma'am," He says again, "We will need to check this one again." He pointed to the package, the package that I wasn't supposed to have, the package that could get me in trouble.
"Sure, no problem." I hand it over. What did I just do, what did I just do? Why would I hand it over, why? I will get in trouble.
He opens the package. I shut my eyes. I hear the package open completely. I open my eyes, just a little. I see shimmers of gold? I look in the package along with the officer.
It's just jewelry, jewelry. Of course. Think fast, think fast.
"I don't know why the dogs are smelling it, it's just my boyfriend's bracelet. He asked me to bring it with me. He just moved out of the state on a work trip and didn't have time to bring it, so he asked me to." I lied right through my teeth.
"Oh, I see. Of course. You are free to go." He hands me back the package. I run right onto my flight, not looking back.
Two more hours until I am in LA, two more hours until I am with my Damian and the rest of the Titans, and this whole situation is resolved and done. Two more hours until I can forget about this package sitting in my lap; until I can feel safe and forget about the threats that man told me.
BOOM!
There is fire everywhere, everywhere. I feel the aircraft wobbling, masks fall from the ceiling. This was not just turbulence. I am the reason I was about to die on this plane. 30 seconds ago I was holding jewelry in a package in my lap, now I am holding a disheveled box that held explosives, not jewelry. Why would I get on this plane? Why didn't I tell the officer the truth? Why did I lie for a stranger that offered me money?
I hear muffled screams around me, I did this to them.
I bring my hand up to my face, why is it sticky? I pull my hand back from my face, red, red, red. Blood. I am bleeding. A bomb had exploded in my lap, my face is bleeding. I am going to die. The only thing stopping me from fainting is the adrenaline pumping through my veins, masking the pain.
Slowly, I place the mask on my face. I breathe through my nose, scared to open my mouth, scared of what I might say. Breathe, breathe. It will all be over soon.
The pilot started to talk over the speaker, "Everyone must stay calm, it is alright. You might be panicking right now, but we are going to find a safe place to land, and everything will be okay. I repeat, there is no need to panic."
Slowly everyone started to sit down in their seats, put on their masks, and some of the screams stopped.
I feel the plane starting to descend, maybe we will make it out, maybe today I will not die for my sins.
"Hello folks, in three minutes the aircraft will land. In the airport you can make arrangements for the rest of your flight to Los Angeles, California. All expenses will be covered." The pilot spoke on the speaker once more.
"Excuse me, ma'am?"
No, no, no, no. 4 hours, 37 minutes and 44 seconds ago I was asked the same question, by a man in the same police uniform as last time. No, not again.
I had just walked off that airplane, into an airport in Utah where I was immediately swarmed by police officers.
"Yes sir?" I ask, "Is there something I can help you with?" And I give the same exact response.
"Yes there is ma'am." I hold my breath. "We got reports from many civilians on your aircraft that you were holding the item that exploded. Is this true?"
This time I have decided to tell the truth. I will not let anyone else get hurt. Even if I get in trouble for it. "Yes." I exhale.
"Then ma'am, you need to come with us. Please hand us your passport and any form of working ID."
I obliged. The officer looks at the photo on my passport, concerned. "Ma'am? Is your name Rachel Roth?"
"Yes." My face, of course, my face. I am cut and bruised all over my face. "Yes, that is me." My adrenaline is running out. I start to feel pain. Lots of pain.
And then there is only blackness.
"Ma'am." Pause. "Ms. Roth?" I stir. I try to get up. Handcuffs? I feel cold metal shackles hanging on my wrists. I am sitting in an interrogation room, handcuffed to a chair. How did I get here? Why did I get myself into this position? "Ma'am?"
"Yes?" I ask, already knowing all the questions that are about to come my way.
"Was the contents of the package in question known to you?"
Alright, time to tell the truth, the whole truth. "Not exactly. A man came up to me and threatened my life unless I brought this package onto my flight with me. I know it was not the right thing to do, but he said there was nothing illegal in it and it had already gone through a security check." I pause, breathing heavily. "When I opened the package, before I got onto the flight, it just looked like jewelry. The bomb must have been hidden underneath it, in a compartment or something."
"Okay, we understand Ms. Roth. Do you know the name of this man?"
No I don't, No I don't. "No I don't. But I do remember his face. If you get me a sketch artist…"
"Okay ma'am, we will need you to make an ID of the suspects." Okay, okay, no problem. "Do you know of any of his plans?"
"He said that he had his brother in LA waiting at the airport for the package. He showed me a picture of him so I would know who to give it to."
"Okay. Thank you Ms. Ross. You have been a huge help. We could bring him and his brother in."
"Of course." I hand it over. It will be okay, it will be okay.
4 hours and 54 minutes ago I gave the sketch of the man and his brother to that officer, 10 hours and 55 minutes ago I was asked to bring a package onto my plane.
"Ms. Roth, we have the brothers in custody. You need to come with us to identify them." Yes, yes, yes. This nightmare will be over, this nightmare will be over.
"Okay, coming."
"Yes," I breathe. "Yes, that is him, and that is his brother."
Suddenly I can't count, I can't remember how many hours, minutes, or seconds ago this nightmare started. But I do know that one minute and 3 seconds ago, this nightmare ended.
