“Is your mother home?” the inspector questions me, standing just outside the houses door step.
“She’s working a late shift tonight.” I reply. “Things have gotten hectic lately, ever since dad…” I trail off, clenching my sweaty palms.
Tears sting behind my eyes while my heart burns a tissue.
Mum had taken me earlier to the doctors to get it checked, he said it was due to too much stress and told me I needed to rest.
But how can I rest?
Ever since dad…
No. I can’t bring myself to say it. Saying it means accepting it and that’s something I won’t allow myself to do. I promised myself I wouldn’t give up hope.
And I never.
Ever.
Go back on a promise.
I zoom back into reality, blinking the tears away before they get a chance to show.
“Erm,” The inspector clears his throat awkwardly, “very well then, can you tell her to give me a call when she gets home?”
I eye him suspiciously. “What for?” Hope expending beneath my chest.
No, not again.
I try lowering my expectations.
Last time I had let my hopes rise high, I had hoped for news of my dad, but ended up disappointed. My hopes crashed so hard they left a hole through Earth. I could’ve sworn I spotted China.
But it’s too hard to lower them.
The desperation of knowing any little information about my father always brought me to my knees.
Begging for an answer.
“It’s rather important she does.” He replies hesitantly.
“I can always pass on the message.” “No,” He says flatly, “this is rather very important.”
I narrow my eyes as I study his face closely. He looks ghostly pale for a tan skinned man.
My heart skips a beat.
No.
That’s the sign I have feared for these past three weeks.
The sign of bad news.
“It’s about my father,” I say slowly, “isn’t it?” “I’m sorry Miss Scarlett, it is strictly classified.”
No.
My heart beat quickens as I search his dim brown eyes.
“Please, tell me.” My voice trembles as I plead, “please.”
For a while the air is fills with uneasy silence, then he sighs. “I’m sorry. But I have to discuss this with your mother first.”
I try to blink but I’m too late. My vision blurs with tears. One manages to slide down my left cheek. I wipe it away hoarsely before the inspector can react. My throat a box of sand.
I clear my throat which only makes it hurt more. “Is that all.” I say with as much dignity as possible.
I hated it when people saw me cry.
He looks down at me with sympathy. “You know, you don’t have to act so strong in front of me.” He says in a soothing voice.
This only pisses me off.
One thing I hated more than people see me cry was…
When people pity me.
“Who’s pretending?” I outburst rudely. He opens his mouth to reply but I interrupt him, “I believe you’ve got work to do?” “Miss Scarlett-” “Have a good night, Inspector Lenny.” And with that, I slam the door shut to my apartment, lock it, and run to my room to cry for the fourth time tonight.
As I run I repeat to myself,
My name is Isabelle Scarlett,
and my dad did not go missing three weeks ago.
Gender:
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