Blue Alert - 3

"Carl"
 
-x-

BELLY of the beast. That's what they called it, right? The elders liked to use simple words and phrases that didn't quite make sense in situations they were labeled for, yet fit so well. Such was the situation I was currently in.

I knew I wasn't supposed to have gone back, but I had anyway. I went to see the aftermath of my work. I had to make sure she was dead. Was I possibly cursing myself, though? Maybe. Who knew what poison would lace my existence in wake of her death? Did she leave one last last mark on this world by torturing me?

I didn't know. But so far, nothing happened. She didn't rise from the earth. She didn't call my name. She was dead. Dead dead dead. And she would remain that way.

Even the townsmen acknowledged it, though it was apparent that some were concerned about the consequences. Would they be cursed too for not aiding her? For finding her too late? Fear is what laced their eyes. No, sympathy. Compassion.

These were the fools who were tricked by her. They were of the many who were had succumbed to her wickedness. Her power. Her lust. They were poisoned minds.

Even these guardsmen who I saw all around me. I was in their stronghold now, these sympathizers and yellow bellies. Very few among them were the proud and daring. They were like me in some way, fighters of this cookie cutter world. They were the few who fought for the right justice, not just what someone else said.

I couldn't look at them, though. Looking meant acknowledging their existence. It meant tying me to them. It meant giving these sympathizers a reason to pin me to something that was in my right to do. I did them all a favor.

But how could I say that aloud? What treachery would fall upon me now when the witch's hold on these people, even after her death, was still so strong? I needed a time of reprieve before I started to to work again. There needed to be a respite.

So I let them take me further inside. Deeper and deeper into their base until we came to a room, secluded and empty.

...Almost empty. Two people were inside it. Both were witch sympathizers, though I knew one on a more personal level. He was the latest victim. He was to be her newest pet, but I saved him. I saved him from ultimate destruction. He was free from her brainwashing.

"Scott!"

And look how he thanked me? Greeting me with that damned name the witch was prone to call me. She probably had all her pets call me by that name. After all, I was special to her. Precious. A cream of the crop specimen. Well look where it got her now! HAH!

He hugged me. I let him. If I didn't, it would be suspicious.

"Thank God you're alive and well."

He pulled back and looked me over. His eyes searched me. What was he looking for, gold? Evidence that I had done the deed? He'd never find it; I hid everything. I took it all away. I got rid of it all just to be safe.

"What the hell happened to you?"

"Mr. Ainsley."

The other sympathizer, the one who didn't lead me here, had spoken. He was older, older than Ainsley and this other guard, with wrinkles on his forehead. He had more years under his belt than them. More than me, definitely.

Ainsley looked at him, surprised, before breaking away from me. Thank you. He cleared his throat. "Oh. Sorry." He looked at me. "C'mon, have a seat, Scott."

His hand was on my shoulder. I let him do it. I let him steer me to that flimsy thing and sit me down. The younger guard, the one without the wrinkles, stayed by the door of the room. Clever. They didn't want me to escape, just in case I gave it thought to.

But no, I was just as clever. I wasn't going to let them catch on. I was going to play it cool. They'd never get me. Never. And they'd realize on their own what a fucking whore the witch was. And then they'd thank me. They'd thank me for my heroics.

"...So, do you go by Scott?"

The older guard was looking at a folder, several papers in his hands. "Documents," they probably were. Whatever the hell they called them. They were all lies, I bet.

The man took my silence as a yes. "Well, Scott, I just wanted you to know that right now, though it seems really bad, it's going to be okay. I know the news must be shocking for you--"

Uh, no, it wasn't.

"--but we're going to take care of things right here. I'm not sure what Officer Johnson has told you--"

Who was that? Oh. It must've been the guard who brought me here.

"--but we'll straighten that out. ...Now, let's start at the beginning. I know it'll be hard for you to hear this; just bear with me. If you can't handle it, tell me to stop any time you wish." He paused, as if I was supposed to react here. I just stared back at him. "Well then. Now I'm sure this morning must have been confusing with all those people at your house, but here are the straight facts: your mother is dead, Scott. And Mr. Ainsley here was the one who found her."

Again, he paused. What, was I supposed to be delicate or something and cry? Hell no.

"Your mother died from a stab wound in the chest by one of the knives in the kitchen. Your dog was also found stabbed several times in the dining room. We believe it to be done by the same weapon."

I wanted to roll my eyes. Well of course it was with the same weapon, stupid. Why would I bother switching weapons? That was stupid. And y'know what? He had it all wrong. That witch wasn't my mother; nor was her monster pet my dog.

This idiot had the facts all wrong. He was trying to make her human. Innocent. Some victim. But she was anything but all that. She was a monster spawned from Hell itself and a fiend that preyed on the innocent. She enjoyed chewing up men and spitting them back out.

He was wrong, wrong, wrong.

And he was staring at me as if I was supposed to start bawling in sympathy. They were all staring at me. But I said nothing. I didn't so much as shed a tear. Why should I? It was all a lie.

"He's in shock."

The officer looked to my left. "...You're probably right, Mr. Ainsley. Would you like to have a moment with him alone to talk him through this?"

"Yes. Please."

"Alright."

The older officer before me got up from the table and closer the file he was looking at. He didn't take it with him as he came around. He patted me on the shoulder as he left, taking "Officer Johnson" with him.

This left me with the last man. "Mr. Ainsley." I knew him by a different name, though.

He looked at me, shifting in his chair to face me. His hands found my shoulders. "Scott? You doin' okay?"

I looked back at him. "Yeah."

"It's okay, y'know. You can cry. No one will think any less of you."

I didn't.

"It's okay. I promise it's okay."

His voice was breaking up, as if he couldn't remain in control of himself anymore.

"Don't worry. Okay? You're a grown man now anyway. It won't hurt you. If-- If you need a place to live, I'll-- I'm always available."

Tears were running down his face. He seemed to think that I was in need of a home now that the witch was dead. Wrong. I had a place to live still. I had a place to go to. I didn't need a witch sympathizer to shelter me. He was weak. I hated weak people like him.

"Oh God, Scott! I'm so glad you're still alive. Whatever happened to you, whyever you're like this, I don't care. I'm just glad you didn't end up like-- like S-S-Sandra."

He wailed like a child. It was a sad sight. Rather pathetic, really. I wanted nothing better than to cover my ears. Actually, you know what? I went and did it anyway.

I slapped my hands over my ears. He just cried harder and pulled me into a hug, smashing our bodies together. I could feel his body shake from trying to control himself.

"Mr. Ainsley."

He stopped screaming like a kid and looked over my shoulder. I recognized the voice; "Officer Johnson".

"Y-Yes?"

"Mr. Ainsley, I need to talk to Scott privately. Is that all right with you?"

"Y-Yeah." He was hesitant. I pulled back from him, seeing his confusion as he looked at the guard. So another witch sympathizer wanted to have a word with me? To what? For what? This was pointless.

"Thank you. Officer Hart is in the next room and would like to speak with you." He gestured behind him.

"O-Okay." Ainsley got up and gave me a glance before turning to the door and leaving. I was more than glad to see him go, but this left me with the guard. Another sympathizer.

I watched as "Officer Johnson" closed the door after Ainsley and took the seat the other guard -- "Officer Hart" I suppose he was called -- had previously occupied. By his face, I already knew we were just going to be repeating the same damn process. These people were idiots if they thought I was going to bend and be nice.

"Scott. I'd like to ask you a few questions, okay?"

I said nothing.

"First off, I'd like to know why you're dressed the way you are."

Still nothing.

"You are aware of how you look, aren't you?"

I nodded. I was in a coat, what else did he want?

"You look like you were digging around in the dirt. Care to tell me why?"

No, not really. And how insulting. I didn't look like some grubbily little child who had a hankering for playing in mud. What was he implying, that I was dirty? That I stank? That I was hardly appropriate for public eyes?

Well maybe "Officer Johnson" needed to reevaluate what he deemed as unacceptable about my appearance because in this day and age, you were lucky if you had a chance to bathe more than once a week.

"Scott... I need you to answer me. I need to know why you came home in naught but your underwear, socks and a coat looking worse for wear. If something happened to you, I need to know. Where were you last night, because you obviously weren't home?"

Of course I wasn't "home", that witch's house isn't my home. It never was, and it never will be.

He sighed and leaned his elbows on the table. "You have to answer me or else I can't help you. If you were attacked, it's okay. Just tell me what happened and I'll take care of things for you. If you weren't, that's even better. I just need to know what you were doing last night so I can help you find out who killed your mother. You do want to know, right?"

No, I didn't, because I already knew. This man was wasting his breath. But... he did have one thing right. "I've been attacked for many years," I said, my lips curling up into a smile.

Johnson's brows shot up. He seemed surprised. Well, of course he would be; he was another sympathizer, so he couldn't possibly know what the witch had done to me while his and everyone else's backs were turned.

"What do you mean?"

I shook my head. He wouldn't understand. He wouldn't believe me anyway. He would side with her. They always sided with her.

I put my head down on the table. It was pointless to keep talking to this man. It was pointless to talk to any of them. They were blind and stupid. They wouldn't see it my way. There were very few in this base of sympathizers who would agree with me. And those few were imprisoned.

I closed my eyes, refusing to answer. I'd rather sleep than talk. It was just too tiring to deal with these morons.