"I'm innocent. You can't detain an innocent person." I glared at my reflection, wondering how many people were on the other side of the glass and how stupid they all must be. They would all feel so dumb when they realize that they’d arrested the wrong person.
"Please sit-down, Miss Bloom." One of them sighed as I purposefully refused. I remained standing, glaring at him with anger in my eyes.
"Take these handcuffs off and I will. You treat me like an animal, and I'll start acting like one." I glared. Where was Amy? I didn't want these morons to stare at me any longer. It made me uncomfortable. It hurt to know that these people had already believed me to be guilty without any proof. Suddenly the doors swung open, and two men walked in. Men in suits, my favorites. They grabbed me and forced me into the seat, keeping their filthy hands on my shoulders.
"Next time choke me," I winked at the taller one. Their faces had helmets covering them so I couldn't see the happy faces they made when they heard me talk. They held me down in my seat as I continued to gaze at my reflection through the one-way glass.
A few moments later, a woman walked into the room and sat across from me at the table. I was disappointed, wishing a man with a nice, sharp jawline had walked in instead.
"Why am I still in handcuffs? I'm innocent." I glared at her as she maintained a poker face.
"Bailey Bloom, you are under the arrest for the first-degree murder of Ethan Cowell…" The woman began speaking, her long blonde hair tied in a sleek bun. She looked unfriendly to say the least. “You can either admit you’ve done it, of which we have plenty of evidence for. Or we can trial by jury; although—”
"I didn't do anything!" I interrupted, trying to clear my name. I wondered why they'd come to this conclusion so quickly. Why was this assumption made about me when I had literally done nothing wrong?! I'm innocent. "What happened to innocent until proven guilty? I'm innocent!"
"Miss Bloom, we have reason to believe that you knocked out the victim— with drugs that we are currently investigating how you got ahold of. Although, it would be much easier if you explained. And then, when you thought he was knocked out, you stabbed him several times prior to biting his fingers off— there were bite marks that match your tooth pattern on his arm as well." The detective said as a horrified look filled my face.
"I wouldn't ever do that! That's so gross! It wasn't me! I promise you! It wasn’t me; I didn’t do it." I announced, tears pouring down my eyes. "I couldn't even hurt a fly much less kill a man!" The detective eyed me carefully.
"So, you're claiming that you did not kill..."
"I would never kill anyone. I don't even know how to use a knife! Someone else must've snuck into my house."
"Miss Bloom, when we arrived at the scene, you claimed that he had snuck into your house and you were simply defending yourself. However, security footage from your neighbors cameras showed that you and Mr. Cowell entered your home at the same time. Now you can either admit to the murder or we can place you under a lie detector test." The mean lady said. I raised an eyebrow at her, unsure of what to say to convince her of my truth.
"Look Miss Lady, I didn't hurt anyone. He snuck into my house. Did you consider that security footage could've been tampered with!? Somebody is out to get me; they've been tracking me for months!" I exclaimed. “I’m being followed. This ‘evidence’ is insufficient so release me!” I eyed them carefully, wondering what their noses looked like beneath the helmets; how they would taste. I slammed my wrists against the table, hoping the force would break the obnoxious handcuffs.
"Okay Miss Bloom, we will keep you in your cell as this is an ongoing investigation. Can you give us a description of who you believe is following you?" I thought back to the one man who had broken my sisters heart. Aaron Paul, he was following me sometimes, he certainly looked capable enough to commit a murder. Maybe it was him who was at my house and he had decided to kill that Ethan guy.
"I don't know his name, but I can describe him!" I announced, staring at the sparkly green eyes of the detective lady. I looked at the ring on her finger, perhaps whoever she was married to could help me convince them that I didn't kill anyone. If only they would release me.
"Fine. Miss Bloom, give us a description and we can bring in the sketch artist later this afternoon for a drawing of your stalker." The detective said. “We will keep you on bail for now.” I wondered if she was just humoring me, it seemed like I was guilty until proven guilty and it scared me. I was adamant. I didn't hurt anyone. I would never.
"He's tall, about six feet and maybe two inches I don't know, just pretty tall. He's got dark brown hair that's slightly messy most of the time but it's not long or anything and he has gray eyes and slightly full, pretty lips. And he's pretty muscular, fit, whatever the term is with a very strong jawline, like those sunken cheek looking ones where you can tell from his face that he works out a lot. I don’t know why this guy is following me, I know he spent some time around my sister because that's how he would stalk me. I know he was the one who murdered that guy." I declared, pursing my lips as the detective turned her head to the mirror and nodded. She didn’t give me any indication that she believed me, but I hoped she would. Maybe she’d put me and Aaron in the same jail cell. I could feel my face heating up at the thought of his strong arms around me; Aaron’s jawline could cut me, and I would say thank you— he looked too good to be true, rather tasty.
"Thank you, Miss Bloom." The lady said, standing up, turning on her heels and leaving the room. The two men followed shortly after as I eyed them carefully. They left me alone for a couple minutes as I remained seated, handcuffs on, staring at the wall. I wondered if there was anyone on the other side of the mirror anymore or why they hadn't put me in the jail cell yet.
"Hello!" I called loudly after a few minutes, "can someone take these handcuffs off me. They hurt! I'm innocent, so I don't know why these handcuffs are still on." Nobody answered. I stood and walked toward the door, trying to open it with my cuffed hands. It was locked. I grew angry, rushing over to the mirror and knocking my head against it.
"Let me out! I’m claustrophobic!" I shouted. No answer. "Let me out! I'm innocent!"
"Miss Bloom, please sit down, we will get back to you shortly." A male voice spoke through a microphone as I glared at the mirror. I wanted them to know that I could see them, at least imagine what they look like so I could gouge their eyes out. I spat on the mirror and returned to the chair. I'm innocent. Why won't they listen to me and set me free?! I just want to go home.
Chapter 41:\ Show Yourself
Aaron
I stared at myself in the mirror, my muddied brown hair had grown long enough to need a trim. And of course, if I wanted to cut my hair, Violet needed to be there. The issue was that we couldn't go out in public. At least not for the next week, especially with our video circulating around the globe. The world couldn't figure out how we ended up off the ground without a CGI animation or wires attached to us. We had become a subject of interest of researchers all around the globe.
I was receiving emails every hour or so about it and I'm sure Violet was too. I never responded; I didn't even understand what had happened, much less, be able to explain it to a reporter. All I knew was that things had returned to how they were before I met Violet, only upgraded because I knew her now. I could read minds, she couldn't and that's how I liked it.
I turned away from my mirror, glancing over at Violet who was driving us to her house and parking. Spending that much time together was probably a cause for my delusion, but I think I was starting to fall in love. I'd never been in love before, so maybe I was misinterpreting these feelings; maybe I just lusted for her.
Her distance headaches had faded long before our car accident last week, she hadn't been having them anymore when we were far apart. I knew this because I had left her in my house and drove four blocks away and when I got back, she was perfectly fine and completely unaware that I had even left. I didn't want to tell her. It seemed like things were back t
o normal.
I couldn't tell her. I wanted to spend time with her: it had become so normal and comfortable. I knew that the second that I told her; she would leave me at the drop of a dime.
"Aaron, your bag.” She said, hauling my backpack behind her as she approached her small tomato plant by the front door of her house. “Look Aaron! My tomatoes are growing!" She cheered, looking like a kid on Christmas. I couldn't look away, entranced by the aura that surrounded her.
I walked over to her and reached for the tomato, "looks just like you." I said as she scoffed and snatched the tomato back from me.
"Looks just like you…" she mimicked, giggling as I laughed. We entered her house and Violet walked to the kitchen, opening and closing all the cabinets in her kitchen as a voice rang in my ears.
Where’s Ethan been? Maybe if I called him again, he might answer. It’s been a week, I’m so worried. Is Violet home already? What time is it… Her mother’s words sang in my ears. I wondered why Violet hadn't told her about Ethan yet. I’d assumed that Amelia would be the first person to know about her boyfriend.
"Mom! I'm home," Violet called.
Why is she slamming all the cabinets!? Can she stop for a minute, I'm trying to think. I need to go to the police station. I have to find out.
Violet began talking, but my mind was distracted. I joked that maybe her kissing me at the hospital was the reason for the switch; I knew it wasn’t true, but the glint in her eyes told me she wouldn’t mind trying it— for research. The next thing I knew, I had her pinned against the fridge, my heart racing as I kissed her.
Well, they probably wouldn’t even notice if I left right now. A voice said and instantly disappeared as another odd occurrence happened and I immediately pulled back from Violet. My mind was in flames as I took a couple steps back; shock couldn’t begin to describe how I felt at this moment. Her memories flooded me as I kissed her; I couldn’t understand why she’d thought of that at this moment.
She was with a boy, she was happy. His face was blurry for a couple of seconds as I watched her climb into his vehicle; I’d seen it parked at school. I knew who it belonged to. I thought she’d said the boy didn't go to her school, but perhaps she was lying to protect herself.
They'd snuck into the school late; all lights were off, and the parking lot was empty— she was giddy and excited. They talked about planning on studying for their math test the following day. The images flashed as they climbed through a window and left it open, turning on the lights and assuming the school was empty.
It was Joseph, my friend who’d dared me to mess with Dr. Dooley back when we were in middle school, my teammate. I couldn’t have ever imagined him doing anything like that.
Flashes arrived, they were in the classroom now, I couldn't push the memory out. I felt her fear. The memory flashed as quickly as a lightning strike. She was afraid, screaming and crying and feeling utterly trapped.
I pulled away from her kiss, staring at her with a mournful look in my eye, feeling wetness on my cheek as I brushed a tears off of my face. She'd lied to me to protect the identity of a rapist. I wondered why she’d done that as I stared into Violet's dark eyes. I was shaking from the fear, wanting to cry on her behalf. Nobody deserved that happening to them; nobody deserved to be forced into doing anything, especially not something so intimate and personal. My mouth hung wide open as I watched her carefully.
"What?" She asked, staring at me curiously as I stepped backwards, bumping my head on a cabinet, “Aaron, you’re crying?” She said as I took a deep breath and gazed at her. She was so strong for letting me into her life after something like that had happened to her. She was so strong for surviving.
"I'm sorry." I whispered, unsure of what else to say; I had been so insensitive a few months ago; I regretted it now. I would've cried myself to sleep every night if I was forced into feeling the way she felt. If I were in her shoes, I might’ve just shut down. I would've been afraid if anyone even touched me. She was strong for how she reacted, but I wished that she had told me sooner. I couldn't explain what I felt but it wasn't pleasant. And I felt the burning urge to go punch Joseph in the face.
"For what?" She asked calmly, her head tilting slightly as she watched me. I grabbed my clenched jaw in an attempt to control my anger. I had seen glimpses of this months ago— but it seemed that the initial shock had worn off now and all the details had flooded me. I didn't want her to know what I had seen, but I didn't want her to feel guilty over something she had no control over. She had planned on just hanging out with her boyfriend and he decided to disrespect her boundaries and rape her… in a classroom of all places. And she protected his identity afterwards. I didn’t understand.
"I..." I was frozen, shocked at her experience as I reached for her hands and stared at her, wishing I could do something to make her forget the pain. I led her to the couch, "I saw something. I know you said you didn't want to tell me who hurt you, but I didn't go searching for it. And I'm sorry if that kiss brought up those memories." I said shakily, unable to comprehend how she was so calm at this moment.
"What are you talking about?" She raised her eyebrows, pretending she didn’t know what I was talking about. She was looking directly at me, my heart was racing and I just wanted to hug her.
"Why are you protecting him?!” I automatically tightened my hands around hers as she looked at our fingers, sliding hers out of mine.
“Aaron, I’m not protecting anyone.” Violet said.
“He raped you.” I blatantly said, “you didn’t report him or do anything! Why are you letting him off the hook?! Why are you letting him think that it was okay to do that to you?!” I tried to keep my voice calm, but my anger got the best of me.
“Aaron, you don’t understand.” She said calmly, “I have my reasons why I didn’t tell anyone, and it has nothing to do with him. I’m not protecting him.” She finally said, her voice slightly shaking as she spoke. My heart was racing as I struggled to hide my anger. I looked at her with disbelief, my eyebrows furrowed, and my mouth hung open.
"Aaron, please don't do anything, I’m fine now, see!" She smiled softly, removing her hand from mine and patting me on my knee. She stood up and walked upstairs, searching for her mother as I sat on the couch, absolutely dumbfounded.
I couldn't handle it, I had so much anger. My hands itched to hit something, but she’d be angry if I punched her wall. I couldn’t control my actions, I was on autopilot as I stood up and walked out of her house, staring at the sky as I realized what I had to do. I just wished that Violet would forgive me— or better yet, that she wouldn’t find out.
Without giving it a second thought, I had texted a couple of the guys on the basketball team, excluding Jared, and asked if they knew Joseph's address.
3426 Hayward avenue, I think his apt number is 67.5 but idk I'll ask around. One of the boys responded as I called one of those taxi-like services and headed over to the address. It wouldn't matter what apartment he lived in, I would be able to hear him from a mile away and know exactly which unit he was in.
"Turn left in 400 feet." The GPS said as the driver tried to make conversation. I sat there silently, staring at my fingers and trying to calm down. I knew I shouldn't have let this anger fuel me, but I couldn't handle the idea that Violet was forced into something so traumatizing by someone that I knew. Someone I had, at one point, considered my friend. Beyond angry, I arrived in a matter of minutes and was dropped off outside his building.
Chapter 42:\ Serum
Dr. Dooley
The students from my class were all useless tools. Every human subject that I tried the serum on failed me. Nothing happened, they’d just developed weird boils that disappeared a week later. I was certain there were no long-term repercussions, and I was angry at myself for being unable to recall the experiment I had run all those years ago. I followed up with all ten of my test subjects a month later and all said they felt normal.
My experiment had failed yet again, but I wasn't going to
give up. I knew I had the solution to this nightmare, but it seemed so far. I needed to find the young man who had destroyed my project all those years ago. He’d obviously be older now. I hardly remembered what he looked like aside from having brown hair which narrowed it down to more than half the population in Rosemond county.
I tossed the syringe aside and sat at my desk. I contemplated giving up— but I’d spent way too much of my time trying to perfect this project of mine. All my life work was in that serum that he’d destroyed. This all still made me angry, over four years later.
A thought struck me a moment later. I had fed my serum to my daughter as well, perhaps something happened to her. But when I visited, she had seemed normal enough, she’d asked me about my research, but I didn’t give her too much detail. She’d made me angry when she’d brought it all up— making me wonder why she cared about this all of a sudden.
I shut my eyes, swirling around in my seat as I thought of possible ways to readjust my formula. Maybe it was best to try it on children so when they aged, they could have their genes manipulated. Or in vitro. This brought up the ethics of my situation once again— the university wouldn’t approve of this, so I would need to do it in secret.
"Dr. Dooley?" A young lady stood outside my office door as I swiveled around in the chair.
"Yes? Come in." I announced.
"I know I didn't schedule an office hour or anything, but I was struggling with a few concepts and need some help before the final next week." She said. I greeted her warmly, a welcome distraction. An hour passed and she remained in my office. I had answered all of her questions, so I didn't understand why she was still here until she started asking me questions about my lab. It dawned upon me that she was simply an eager pre-medical student who was trying to join a lab, publish a paper, and get good recommendations. Those were my favorites— they were willing to do anything to achieve their goals.
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