They always bombarded me with the same questions, over and over and over and over again...
How are you feeling today?
Trapped. I feel trapped.
Did you have another bad dream?
Always.
Have you worked up an appetite yet?
No. And I probably never will.
What images come to mind when you hear the words "father" or "mother"?
Beer bottles and blood. Lots and lots of blood.
What do you remember from that night?
Next question.
Are you a killer, Sierra?
That's enough, Deliz.
Did you murder your own mother?
Stop. Talking.
Did you poison her?
Please, Deliz. I'm begging you to stop. Just stop.
Only if you answer my questions, Sierra. Did you murder your mom? Did you? Did you watch her blee—
No! I told you I didn't kill her! Stop treating me like a suspect! I'm innocent! I swear—
"Wo, wo, wo! Sierra. Sierra. Sshh... It's okay. It's me—Simon."
A pair of strong, warm arms encircle my upper body and he pulls me towards his chest, rocking back and forth at a gentle, measured pace while stroking my hair. And for a few magical moments, I allow myself to relax, to sink into the comforting depths of his woollen sweater, to inhale the scent of his spicy cologne, to remain tethered to reality.
To the believable reality I've tried so hard to spin for myself—but is now suddenly unraveling at those once-stubborn seams.
[239 words]
YOU ARE READING
TROJAN
Science FictionWhen EURIEKA's latest project produces a brilliant intracerebral circuit that allows users to communicate with the electronic world by merely thinking, the revolutionary invention quickly gains popularity, attracting buyers from across the globe. Ho...
