Chapter 14

Willow faces betrayal and an accusation.

Chapter Fourteen

Cruel World

           

That morning was bright and cheerful, and the exact opposite of how Al felt at that particular moment. When Allister Waterman opened his eyes that very morning, he didn’t feel refreshed or unusually happy. He felt very exhausted and irritated. With what happened the very night before, the stress that weighed him down had grown to a maximum. He barely slept and tossed and turned all night with the thought of how much he had hurt one of the most important people in his life.

            He thought nothing of her tear-streaked, rage-filled face before she had fled his room. Al tried his best to shake the dreadful image from his mind, but it was of no avail because he soon found himself spacing out at various moments with deep remorse filling his heart, making it pound with guilt. He had hurt her so much already when she was fragile. He had added to her pain and made it worse than it already was.

            Al pulled a freshly laundered cotton sweater over his head and pulled it down. It was a deep, rich mahogany and smelled of the mountain breeze fabric softener his mom used. He inhaled deeply and let out a melancholy sigh.

            “I’m sorry, Willow,” he whispered in a low voice.

            “Honey? Are you okay up there?”

            “Yeah, Mom, I’m fine.”

            “Just checking. Breakfast’s ready!”

            “I’ll be down in a minute!” Allister called down the hallway from his open door. He slipped on a pair of long dark blue jeans and stuck his sock-covered feet into a pair of worn sneakers.

            He stood up straight and glanced over his room. It was messy considering there were clothes, clean and dirty, thrown all over the place. Al’s mom was constantly nagging in his ear about he should clean up more often, but he always said that he never had the time to. He was just plain lazy was all and didn’t feel like cleaning.

            “Honey?”

            “Coming.”

            Allister stared for a long moment out his window before heading downstairs for breakfast. He strolled out of his room and thumped softly down the stairs and into the kitchen. Mrs. Waterman stood with her back facing him, serving up what looked like scrambled eggs and pancakes. He silently snuck up behind her and positioned his arms over her shoulders. Then, he let them fall into place. And she jumped.

            “Oh!” she gasped, swerving around and clutching her heart with one hand and with the other she held a frying pan. She glared up at him. “Don’t do that! I swear, one day when I have a heart attack, you will be the one to blame.”

            “You always say that,” he said, grinning half-heartedly and kissing her on the cheek. Al sat down in a seat that resided on the opposite place where his mother was. She sat down herself and placed the frying pan on the table and began to pour syrup on her two buttermilk pancakes.

            “I mean it. You will be sorry,” she countered as she pointed her fork at him. She bit into the triangular piece of pancake she had cut with her knife. Al took a bite of his own pancake, not even bothering to cut it like his mother had done. He swallowed the piece without tasting or even chewing it.

            Unfortunately, Mrs. Waterman noticed his lack of appetite and decided to speak up.

            “Oh come now! Something must definitely be wrong if you haven’t gobbled down my pancakes by now. Tell me.”

            “Mom, it’s nothing.”

            “Allister.”

            “Mom…really, it’s nothing.”

            “You’re not getting off that easily, you know. Now, tell me.”

            He rolled his eyes at her, but told her anyway. He knew very well that she would just keep bugging him until he spit it out.

            Al stabbed at his scrambled eggs hesitantly with his fork.

            “Willow’s…mad at me.”

            “That nice girl you talk about all the time? Why?”

            He glanced up at her.

            “Mom, I told you it’s nothing.”

            “Al, it’s not nothing. If she’s really that angry with you, just ask her what’s wrong.”

            Because I already know.

            Instead, frustration welled up in his chest until he could take it no longer.

            “Mom, you don’t understand anything about my life! Okay? Nothing!”

            “Allister�"”

            “No…no, I’ve had about all I can take right now, okay? I’m tired of being constantly criticized by you and everyone else in this damn world. Bye.”

            He thrust his hand hard at his backpack and flung it across his shoulder, the books within it banging against his upper back. It hurt but he could barely feel the stinging pain of the slam as he steamed right out of the house.

            “Allister Franklin Waterman! You come back here right now!”

            Allister just ignored her ordering voice and kept walking out the door into the freezing morning air. Al found himself slowly speeding up. He was jogging faster and faster until he was running. Running away from all the stress, all the problems, all the responsibilities, even if it was for only seven grueling hours of school. Though he tried not to think about it, one thing kept shadowing his already troubled mind.

            The thought of having to see Willow.

 

_____

 

            Blank eyes stared into her locker. She could feel nothing, not even pain. She knew she was slipping away slowly into her own abyss of darkness, slowly fading away into nothingness.

            Or at least, that’s what it felt like to Willow.

            She had no thoughts as she silently collected her books into her arms and deposited half of them into her backpack. The other half that she wasn’t able to fit into it went into her arms for her to carry.

            Her pale face was whiter than usual and her eyes were sunken from the lack of sleep. All night she had been tossing and turning with dreams of her father killing her mother and Viola dying continually right in front of her eyes. She kept waking up with tears running down her face and her heart throbbing with fear.

            “Are you okay, honey?” Aggie had asked with concern plastered all over her humble face.

            “Yeah…yeah, I’m fine. I just didn’t get enough sleep, is all.”

            “Okay…if you’re sure.”

            Aggie’s concerned words echoed in her mind even then. How was it that one day she felt so much, yet the next day…she felt so…so bare? Was it even possible to feel so numb?

            Everything and everyone hurt her. All they did was hurt her and leave her. It was just so confusing and overwhelming. Did anyone ever feel this empty? Why did Viola kiss Al? And why did Allister kiss back?

            She felt her nails digging into her palms and retracted her hand back so that it was loose and free. Her teeth clenched together hard, but she took barely any notice of it. Why did every single person in her life have to hurt her? Was it…a game or something? Because Willow was having absolutely no fun playing it. It was just plain misery for her.

            As she walked to her next class, she spotted Allister out of the corner of her eye. She shifted her backpack nervously as she struggled to avoid him in the thick throng of kids that clogged the hallways on the way to their classes. Willow walked quickly away from him, but not before she heard his voice call her name.

            “Willow! Wait…ah, excuse me…let me through…Willow!”

            She quickened her pace, her heart beating hard from fear. God, please…help me. I don’t want to face him. I can’t! Not what he did after last night.

            Unfortunately for Willow, Allister was able to easily catch up with her, grabbing on of her shoulders in the process.

            “Willow…please…I’m sorry about last night. I’m really very sorry…”

            She slammed her eyes shut as hot tears made their way from underneath her eyelids, streaming wet paths down her cheeks. She hesitantly wiped them away with the sleeve of her shirt.

            “Willow? Willow?”

            Her heart thumped even faster than before in her chest, summoning an angry flush to her already pink cheeks. She bared her teeth and clenched her fists against her sides.

            “Willow? Can you…can you ever forgive me?”

            The tears fell faster and harder than ever before as anger and a melancholy sadness invaded her heart, making her chest swell with emotion. She silently sobbed, her entire body shaking horribly as she let out shuddering breaths. Her throat closed up and she had to clear her throat slightly to breathe properly. Willow fell to the ground on her knees, her fists by her sides.

            Al immediately darted to her side on the floor with concern flooding his face and eyes. He tenderly took her face in his hands, stroking her tears away with his thumbs.

            “Willow…talk to me…I’m sorry…and…I care so much about you…more than you’ll ever know.”

            Willow widened her eyes in surprise at him, but shook her head madly at the thought of trusting him again. Hadn’t he just hurt her? Yes, he had. She narrowed her eyes and glared up at him.

            “I-if you really cared about me, Al, y-you…you wouldn’t have kissed Viola!” she rasped at him.

            Allister was taken aback at her sudden turn of moods from weak to venomous. He looked at her with pleading eyes, begging sorely for forgiveness. People around them glanced at them strangely, but avoided them entirely.

            “Willow…please…forgive me…”

            “Why should I?” She shoved Allister away. Hurt flashed in his eyes. “All everyone in my life did was hurt me. Why should you be any different Leave me alone.”

            Willow stood, biting her lip with so much force that she tasted blood. She tried to hold back her tears, but they came regardless of whatever she did. He rose from the ground, too, and took hold of her trembling shoulder before she was able to turn away and escape from this horrible predicament.

            “Willow…please…”

            “I said to leave�"me�"alone.”

            She turned slowly on her feet, her eyes flashing dangerously like a predator’s at him. Then Willow did the most unexpected thing. She slapped him so hard on the cheek that it turned red and revealed an imprint of a hand. Then, she ran as swiftly as the wind before Allister could catch up to her, crying all the while.

 

_____

 

            The room was dead silent, his study flooded with few rays of the early morning sun. He picked up the phone that resided right next to the monitor of his computer. He pressed a single button and the telephone on the other end began to ring almost instantaneously. Someone picked up on the second ring.

            “Vhat is it?” answered a voice demandingly.

            “Cain, you know that I need you once more. You did excellent on tracking the boy.”

            “Vhat do you need now?”

            “Well…the boy needs more watching.”

            “That is vhat you had me do last time. Is it all I vill do?”

            “No…no, of course not.”

            “And vhat about the pay? Have you come up with that?”

            “Yes, you will be paid most generously,” Severin replied, currently growing more and more irritated.

            “Good. Tell me.”

            “I will need you to watch the boy more closely. He may need to be exterminated soon. But not yet”

            “And?”

            “Keep your gun at close range. If worse comes to worse, something dire might occur and I might have to take care of him myself.”

            “Right. If the boy tells, I vill be sure to vatch him.”

            “Good.”

            Only if it comes to that will I need to kill him, he thought. And I believe that will come sooner than I believe.

 

______

 

            Allister watched as Willow fled the school crying in disgust at his betrayal. He wanted so much to go after her, to hold and tell her a thousand times that he didn’t mean to kiss Viola. But he knew that would be of no avail because, one thing, Willow was way faster than Al was, and, two, she would just cast him away.

            He punched the lockers beside him in sheer frustration. People that passed him gawked at him and shook their heads, but no one even bothered to ask what was wrong with him or if he was alright. It was a cruel world, made even worse by those who only added to its unfairness.

            In his mind, Allister continuously kept scolding himself for paining Willow the way he did. The final bell rung and kids filed noisily into their first period classes. Allister grabbed his backpack and swung it over his left shoulder. He slumped to his first class, already knowing that he’d be ridiculed for being just a few minutes late, but he didn’t give a damn about what his teacher said currently.

            All he wanted to do was curl up and die.

            So, with his cheek still burning brightly from being slapped by Willow, he opened the classroom door. Right then a nasal voice began to scold him just as predicted.

            “Mr. Waterman, do you know that it is against school policy to be tardy?” asked the teacher from his desk.

            “Yes, Mr. Barnes, I know.”

            “Then why do you consistently continue to be tardy?”

            Annoyance rose in Allister’s chest, but he tried to conceal it underneath a cloak of patience. His try was of no avail, though.

            “Why does it bother you so much, teach?”

            Mr. Barnes stood up in his seat, placing both hands on his desk, and leaned in to look at Allister.

            “Young man, I’ll have you know that this is a place of education. And no one, not even I, tolerates tardiness. Either you wish to learn and stay here or leave and not learn anything at all.”

            All the kids in the room were gawking interestedly at the two of them, anticipating Al’s next move.

            “Then f**k you,” Al growled, glaring at the teacher. He marched out of the classroom in silence.

            “Mr. Waterman! Come back here! You have a month’s worth of detention now! Go any farther, you’ll have two months’.”

            Al turned around and grinned in an annoyingly cocky manner and held up the finger at him. Mr. Barnes’s face changed from a light shade of magenta to a deep, deep crimson. He quaked with anger and frustration as he yelled at Allister.

            “That’s it! Six months’ worth of detention!”

            All Allister did was wave a hand over his shoulder and kept walking until he was out of the building. The kids kept on gawking in awe and surprise as Mr. Barnes plopped back down in his seat, his face an even deeper shade of red.

            “Read page 167 and take notes.”

 

            He walked out of the school with an agitated expression on his face. So far this day had not been what Allister had been expecting. First yesterday, he told Willow about his kiss with Viola and the next he knows is that she blows up and disappears. And now, he tries to apologize and she slaps him, warning him to stay away from her from now on. Then, he gets mad at the teacher and lands with a ton of detention for the next few months.

            But, truthfully, the only thing Al really cared about was Willow.

            He felt worried about her and had no idea what to do. He could always choose to go after her, but the thing was he had no idea where she went, which was a big problem. And, of course, she couldn’t possibly be at home.

            Where else was there for her to go?

 

_____

 

            She ran and ran, not even caring where she was headed. She just wanted to get away from him as soon and as fast as possible. Why was it that she had such constant bad luck? Willow knew the answer, though. It was so simple; it was her father’s fault. He ruined her entire life forever. She couldn’t go back and erase what had been done before. She knew very well that she had to accept her crappy life for what it was and make the best out of it.

            No…no, she couldn’t. Not that soon, at least. She had to avenge her mother for what he did and also gain vengeance for Viola.

            Willow slowed her pace until she was certain that no one had been following her for the past few miles. She dropped onto the ground, noticing the thin lines of sweat that had formed on her arms underneath her long-sleeved sweater. The sweat evaporated, leaving Willow shivering in the midmorning sun.

            God, why didn’t I have sense enough to bring a coat or something with me? My sweater’s not nearly good enough to keep me warm. Before I know it, I’ll freeze to death in this, she thought.

            Willow shivered and breathed hard. She closed her eyes gently and took deep breaths in order to calm her heart rate. Her heart slowed to its normal pace, and she stood from the ground and glanced around at her newfound surroundings.

            The place was damp from the constant rain that Crescent City had kept receiving for the last few weeks. Besides the screech of a cat and the honking of cars in the distance, there was absolutely no life whatsoever in the entire place.

            Dark storm clouds swept over the sky lazily, blocking out the sun for a mere moment.  Willow walked through the dirty streets of downtown Crescent City, senses alert and detecting every single sound she picked up. Silence and smog were thick in the atmosphere. Gravel crunched. She froze. The hairs on the nape of her neck rising in fear.

            Someone was following her.

            Her heart beat more wildly with panic, but she willed herself to keep calm and to simply walk. A shadowy figure appeared in front of her. She stopped and turned around. More people emerged from the darkness and circled around her so that she was utterly trapped.

            “Well, well, well…what have we got here?” taunted a low, alluring male voice. A seventeen-year-old boy appeared in the dim light of the sun’s rays. He grinned at her as he looked her over from top to bottom. Willow shuddered underneath his leering gaze. “Heh…what’s a sweet thing like you doing all the way out here, huh? Don’t you know that…this part of town is full of…molesters and thieves?”

            “Yeah…I kinda figured.”

            “Boys, what do you say that we escort this pretty young lady out of here?”

            His gang chuckled in response, and they began to close in on her even tighter.

            “Sorry, guys, but…I’m gonna have to refuse your generous offer.”

            Her muscles tensed as she lashed out at the nearest boy with her leg, kicking him in the face. He hissed, spitting out at her with blood dripping out the side of his mouth. He got off the ground and charged straight towards her. Willow stepped aside as he ran into a brick wall.

            The next was a blond-haired boy who came up at Willow’s right side, chuckling at how short she was compared to his 6’4 height. His bulging muscles rippled under his shirt as he circled Willow slowly, smirking tauntingly. Willow watched the blond carefully like a predator waiting to strike at the right time.

            “Gonna make your move, girl?”

            “Patience…”

            She reared herself up for attack. When the blond boy saw this, his face went from taunting to fearful within just a second. It was Willow who then smiled as she attacked the boy with a shower of punches and kicks.

            “Yah!” she roared as a roundhouse kick from her right land hit him in the side of the face. He fell to the ground on his side with a faint grunt, but attempted to get up. Willow seized him by the collar and brought him up to her eye level before throwing him back against the brick wall.

            She glared at his now unconscious body, sweat trickling from her brow. Her sides heaved with exhaustion, but her muscles were pumping with the wonderful and overwhelming feeling of adrenaline. She was just getting started

            Her ears detected heavy breathing closing in behind her. She shut her eyes and carefully pinpointed when to strike. The steps that pounded on the pavement behind her back grew louder as the breathing grew more ragged and forced. Willow’s eyes flew open, and just as one of the cronies was about to knock her over, she jabbed her elbow straight into his stomach. She turned around to find a young Hispanic boy on the ground, clutching his stomach in a pitiful way.

            Willow shook her head in a disapproving way and crossed her arms. Then, something hard hit the back of her head, knocking her straight to the ground. Her head throbbed as she touched a hand to the back of it. When she pulled away, Willow found that it was red with blood. She weakly pulled herself up from the ground and glared at her attacker with hatred flashing in her eyes.

            The leader smirked at her triumphantly, but gasped when Willow punched right in the middle of his face. She heard a thick crack and immediately assumed that she had broken his nose.

            “I’m out of here!” exclaimed one of the remaining few whom she had failed to beat up.

            The other two followed him as well.

            The leader turned to his buddies that were escaping and shouted. “Cowards! Jerks! Go for all I care!” He turned to face Willow, licking his lips in anticipation; blood trickled from his broken nose. “Guess I’ll have to handle you myself.”

            She smirked at him. “Guess you’ll have to.”

            He growled in frustration and attempted to lunge his pole at her, but she easily dodged. She stumbled, resulting in the pole scraping the side of her arm deeply.

            “Ah,” she hissed, cradling her arm to her chest.

Blood seeped out of her wound, dripping onto the gravel she stood on. This gave him time to devise an attack against Willow. He carefully avoided her jerky blows to the air where his head had been and pounded a fist into her stomach.

“Oh…”

“Now who’s winning, sweetie?”

“N-not…y-y-you…hehehe…”

At this, Willow swept a leg under both his, bringing him down to the ground beside her. He tried to hit her once more, but she knocked him out by kicking him senseless.

            Willow kneeled over the ground, wheezing and gasping for breath. Using what was left of her energy, she carefully bolstered herself off the ground and dragged herself towards the road and away from all the boys’ unconscious bodies.

            Before she knew it, she fell over into the dirt, blacking out.

 

_____

           

            Over the past few days, it had gotten colder as time progressed into mid-November. It almost felt like years since Viola had been killed two weeks ago. Everyone who had known her had experienced that hard blow to the soul and was hit with sorrow everytime they were reminded of her. Why was it that, at a moment, time seems to go slowly? And, when we least expect it, it moves forward faster than we ever knew?

            Time is like that. Fair in all its dealings, yet seemingly horrible when it comes to death and the end of life. Or, is death merely the end of life? Or the start of a new life and a whole new beginning for the human soul to be reborn in a fresh world untainted by sin, doubt, and darkness?

            Allister wondered whether Viola was okay in the next life and if she was at peace with the way things were currently as she watched. He was quite sure that she wouldn’t want Willow angry with him at the moment and that they should make up.

            God, what would she do if she were here? he wondered

            He remembered her smiling face as clearly as ever, but it seemed to be somewhat blurry. Was he forgetting Viola’s face? Time also has a way of wearing things down and erasing them completely.

            Al hunched his shoulders so that his heavy jacket fell down over his chest to provide more warmth for his already freezing body. A breeze blew right through him as if he were invisible, causing him to shiver greatly. He had to keep searching for Willow. He promised himself that, no matter what, he’d always take care of her. He loved her, and he sincerely admitted it. And…he knew that Willow loved him, too. That’s why she blew up those times at school and at his house.

            She loved him deeply. And she also loved someone else, too.

            It nearly broke his heart that day after Viola died when he had nearly kissed her in the janitor’s closet when she confessed silently that she loved someone else. Everything has hurt her so much. She really deserves a better life.

            He gazed into the distance in melancholy thought.

            It hurts me even more to see her upset at me. I loved Viola, both as a sister and a girlfriend. Willow should really understand that I never meant to hurt her. It just happened. She should know that both Viola and I cared, and do care, for her very deeply.

            She just doesn’t realize it.

 

_____

 

            The metallic taste of blood in her mouth was sharp as Willow came to. Her eyes fluttered open and she glanced around. Everything turned out very blurry at first, but cleared up once she widened her eyes enough to see exactly where she was.

            She felt around and realized that she was lying on the backseat of a car and slowly sat up. Her muscles ached as she adjusted herself into a sitting position. The car had cold, gray bars stretched horizontally and vertically across the region of space where the front seats and back seats connected. She then realized she was riding in a police car.

            Willow leaned forward and laced her fingers in between the tiny spaces that the bars neglected to fill.

            Without glancing at her, the driver spoke in a clear, emotionless voice.

            “You’re awake. Good.”

            “Who exactly are you and where are you taking me?”

            “Detective Carys Eberhard of the Crescent City Police Department. Call me ‘Detective.’ As for where we’re going, that would be the station.”

            “Why?”

            “We’re going to get you cleaned up. It looks like you’ve had a nasty fall there…or some fun time fighting with some hooligans.”

            Willow felt a stab of panic pierce her heart. Of course the unconscious bodies of the gang would still be there. How could she be so stupid as to get into a fight? Especially since she skipped school?

            “Uh, yeah, about that…”

            “I’m not going to yell at you right at this second, but the boys down at the station will want to know what happened.” She craned her neck to look at Willow from the driver’s seat. It was know that Willow noticed that the detective was African-American with long dark hair pulled back tightly into a bun, skin the color of melted chocolate, and piercing black eyes that looked as if they could read you.

            “Well…okay.”

            The rest of the ride was completed in silence. Willow gazed pensively out the window at the scenery of Crescent City as it rushed by in seconds. Detective Eberhard stared straight ahead, barely ever taking her eyes off the road except to occasionally glance at Willow quickly in her mirror. Willow felt those glances, but paid no mind to them. When you were a freak, everyone stared at you, and she had eventually grown accustomed to it.

            Willow pressed her left hand to the glass of the car. The glass was freezing and she was tempted to pull her hand away, but for a moment of peace, she closed her eyes and savored the chilly feeling that dispersed up her arm, causing goose bumps to erupt from her skin. To the normal human eye, it would seem like a really outlandish thing to do, but then, Willow wasn’t normal at all. That’s what made her a freak. That and the fact that she harbored superhuman mutations.

            The police car suddenly grew more sluggish in its speed by the seconds until it finally rolled to a stop right in front of a tall building in the heart of Crescent City. The door of her side of the car opened unexpectedly, revealing the detective on the other side, waiting patiently for her to exit it. Willow was eager to escape the backseat of Detective Eberhard’s vehicle and stretch her aching legs, which had begun to bruise during the ride to the station.

            The detective closed the door behind Willow. Willow examined her surroundings, her observant eyes darting from the top of the building where it said in big letters Crescent City Police Department to the sidewalk that were packed with the normal crowds of people rushing to get to their jobs and workplaces on the right times. Most of them carried briefcases and wore suits, but a select few had on casual street clothes. The streets were boisterous, almost unbearable for Willow’s highly sensitive hearing.

            “Come on, now,” the detective said, ushering a gawking Willow away from the curb where she had been blocking a few very impatient people.

            Various pedestrians pushed rudely pass them and neglected to stop and apologize. The detective led Willow up the stairs, staring straight ahead with emotionless air about her entire being. Willow observed police officers entering and exiting the building, most just bustling in for their morning shifts. The noise was even louder within the enclosed space of hall.

            She observed people talking in corners with bagels and coffee in their hands while others greeted each other and began their morning rituals.

            “Hey, Carys, you catch a fugitive already?” said someone mockingly.

            “Yeah, isn’t it a little early?” another taunted.

            Detective Eberhard stopped in her tracks. Willow, caught completely off-guard by this, almost rammed into her from behind. The detective stood straight and looked her fellow employee in the eye, her gaze never wavering.

            “Mind your own business,” she breathed, venom lashing out sternly from her tongue. The officer gritted his teeth and slugged away, and if he had a tail, it would have been right in between his legs. Others laughed at the poor officer, but did nothing.

            Detective Eberhard stared at her destination, not looking back even once at Willow. Her lips were pursed in a thin line and her eyes glittered with malice.

            “Um…Detective? Are you…all right?”

            “Yes,” she hissed under her breath in reply as she snatched her forearm in her hand. “Come on.”

            The sharp pain of the detective’s finely manicured nails dug into her skin. Willow squinted, but said nothing for fear of unleashing the deadly beast that was already raging with anger inside her.

            She tugged Willow past people. Her grip eventually softened, but Willow could tell that the tight grip the detective had on her arm was going to cause a faint bruise. She didn’t care for she was more concerned about the welfare of what was going to be done to her.

            Detective Eberhard lead Willow to a room that had a plaque outside of it that read Detective Carys Eberhard. She dragged her into her office and removed her hand from Willow’s arm. Willow looked down upon her arm and observed nail marks embedded into her skin. She rubbed her sore arm tenderly. The detective seated herself in front of her own desk and began rummaging through her drawers.

            “Please do sit down, Willow,” she invited without looking up.

            Willow was taken aback for a moment, but seated herself in a wooden chair that sat opposite of her desk.

            Still holding her arm, Willow asked, “How…do you know my name?”

            She glanced up at her, but returned to her rummaging.

            “That’s hardly important right now. You’re hurt and you need medical attention. I know I have some Band-Aids in here somewhere…ah, here we are.”

            The detective closed a drawer and held up a box of huge Band-Aids and anti-septic.

            “Let me see your face,” the detective said softly. She motioned for Willow to come closer. Willow scooted the seat closer to the edge of the desk. The detective crossed her arms.

            “Come now. Come over here.”

            Willow stood this time and approached Detective Eberhard warily. She kneeled on the floor in front of her and stuck her face up. The detective looked over Willow’s face carefully and dabbed at a few spots here and there with a tissue she had pulled from a box on her desk. She only stuck a Band-Aid on one or two spots, but that was pretty much it.

            The detective leaned back in her desk chair and glanced over Willow’s face once again, trying to find any scratches she hadn’t already taken care of yet. Satisfied, she sat straight up.

            “Well, it looks like you’re pretty much taken care of.”

            “Good.”

            As Willow stood and turned around, Detective Eberhard suddenly jerked her back. She would have fallen except she had a very firm grip on Willow’s shoulders so she wouldn’t escape.

            “What? What is it?”

            “Turn around.”

            She did as the detective said. Willow heard her give out a small gasp.

            “What?”

            “A spot on the back of your head is covered in dried blood.”

            Willow reached up to the place where she had been touching and pressed carefully down. Sure enough, she felt something crusty coat her hand.

            “Oh…that.”

            “You might have a concussion. Do you feel all right, Willow?”

            “Yeah. Just very achy and tired.”

            “Sit down. And let me bandage that nasty scratch on your arm as well.”

            She threw her coat down onto her chair and grabbed a large Band-Aid and the anti-septic. But before she could even touch the wound, Willow stopped her for a moment.

            “Please. I’m fine. Really.”

            “No, you’re not fine, Willow. You were lucky that you survived a harsh beating like that. Believe me, I’ve seen worse.”

            “I never saw you anywhere near the place I was beating those boys up. How did you know where to find me? And how exactly do you know my name?” Willow demanded. She stared at Detective Eberhard hard with fire burning softly in her eyes.

            The detective looked down, placing the first aid materials on her desk. She came up in front of Willow and looked her straight in the eye and said her words honestly and straightforward.

            “We’ve been watching you. I’ve been watching you. I know your name because I was assigned to the case of Viola Whitmore’s murder, your best friend.

            “And you are the prime suspect.”

Author's Note

Another chapter, my dear readers.