Chapter SEVENTEEN

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Kirby Carter

.. t w o d a y s l a t e r ..

After two days in the hospital the doctor finally cleared you to leave and all you wanted to do was go home and figure out your next move.. You're feeling physically much better, after whatever mystery poison Darby administered had passed, but mentally and emotionally you feel completely lost..

Instead of at home, you find yourself in the last place you'd want to be..

Sitting in a small, bare interrogation room, in some corporate looking uptown offices..

You nervously tap your long red-painted nails on the surface of the cool steel table that you sit behind, waiting for whatever comes next.. Everything is beyond your control now..

Paxton pushes through the door, dressed to perfection in a neat black suit and tie.. He looks powerful.. Commanding.. Like he just stepped off the cover of mountain man magazine..

He takes the seat across from you.. Opening a grey folder filled with documents.. "Are you ready?"

You shudder under the chill of the icy air-conditioning duct above you..

You have no idea what kind of deal you'll be able to negotiate here.. Probably not one that keeps you from incarceration.. But maybe one that keeps your sister alive.. "Let's just get this over with.."

He nods, getting up to flick a switch on the wall, immediately cutting off the freezing blast of air that was bearing down on you before taking his seat again..

You feel a twang in your chest at the simple, thoughtful gesture..

The way he watches you, paying attention to every detail.. Piercing you with those beautiful grey eyes.. Your heartbeat climbs into your throat..

He makes you nervous.. Nervous because you don't trust him.. But also.. Nervous because you want to.. Despite the lies..

"Is your name Summer O'Cléirigh, and were you a member of the IRA eight years ago?" He asks plainly, cutting straight to the point..

It's already a loaded question..

Were you a member?

No.. You were a god damn hostage!

The word "member" implies that you were a part of that world by choice.. Definitely not. You twist the ends of your chocolate curls anxiously, his gaze following the movement of your fingers, making you hyper-aware..

You stop fidgeting.. Placing your palms down flat on the interrogation table.. "My name WAS Summer O'Cléirigh, yes.. But, I was never a member of the IRA.."

He sighs frustratedly.. Clearly hoping you would have made this easier for him.. But you can't.. If he wants to know what happened, then he needs to listen to the truth.. The real truth.. Not just whatever is in that file in front of him..

"You took part in IRA activities then?.."

You nod, accepting his rephrased statement.. "I did.. Involuntarily. "

He tips his head to one side curiously.. "How did your involuntary involvement in these activities begin?"

You hate this part of the story.. You almost want to lie and tell him what he wants to hear..

That you're just a terrible person who did it for money or glory.. Or even that you're just a psycho who gets off on the suffering of others..

Any explanation would be much simpler to understand.. That would be so much easier than the truth..

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