Status: Complete - February 22, 2018
Haunting Grey
Ten
"Travis, wake up," a voice says gently.
There's a hand on my shoulder, and my eyes open. I'm still in the hospital, and my dad is here again. Maybe he stayed all night.
He hasn't called me by my real name is such a long time.
"Dad? What's wrong?"
"The police want to speak with you."
"Okay," I reply.
When they enter, I'm immediately panicked. Both are big men who look like they could snap me in half if I even think about lying to them.
"Hello, Travis," the one with the dark hair says. "I'm Detective Blaine, and this is my partner Detective Archer. We just want to ask you some questions, son. I'm sorry this is coming at a bad time, but we can't exactly do this down at the station."
"How are you feeling?" Detective Asher asks.
"Okay," I say, "my head hurts."
Detective Blaine nods. "We'll make this quick, then, so you can get some rest. Okay, Travis. The first question we have to ask may make you uncomfortable, but we need to know. What was your relationship with Natalie Dowd?"
This makes me sit up. "We were friends, that's all."
"Did you have a fight the day she disappeared?" This from Detective Asher.
"Excuse me?" I blink at them, and my headache worsens. "Do you think I killed her? I didn't. I would never hurt her. I love—loved—her."
"Did she feels the same?" Blaine asks, narrowing his eyes. "Gathering from your expression, I'd say no. Did that make you mad?"
"I think you need to leave," my dad snaps. "You're upsetting my son."
Once they're gone—but not without threatening to figure out how I'm connected to all of this—my dad sits back down and glares at the door.
"They have some nerve," he growls. He looks at me and his voice softens. "You don't have to talk to them if you don't want, Travis. I'm going to get something to eat, do you want me to get you some pudding?"
"I want breakfast," I tell him.
When he leaves, Natalie's there again, staring at me worriedly.
"The police came," I say. "They think I killed you."
Her good eye widens and tears up. "You would never do that, Travis. I can't believe they would think that."
"What happened?" I ask her. "Did you fall? Did someone"—I wince as I gesture to my own face, and my stomach churns with nausea—"do that to you?"
"I don't remember," she admits. "Please help me figure it out."
She's gone again when my dad comes back with food. He sets the tray down and stares at me.
"What are you looking at?" he wonders.
"Nothing," I mutter, gazing at the spot where Natalie had just been.
I rub my head. What the hell was going on?
There's a hand on my shoulder, and my eyes open. I'm still in the hospital, and my dad is here again. Maybe he stayed all night.
He hasn't called me by my real name is such a long time.
"Dad? What's wrong?"
"The police want to speak with you."
"Okay," I reply.
When they enter, I'm immediately panicked. Both are big men who look like they could snap me in half if I even think about lying to them.
"Hello, Travis," the one with the dark hair says. "I'm Detective Blaine, and this is my partner Detective Archer. We just want to ask you some questions, son. I'm sorry this is coming at a bad time, but we can't exactly do this down at the station."
"How are you feeling?" Detective Asher asks.
"Okay," I say, "my head hurts."
Detective Blaine nods. "We'll make this quick, then, so you can get some rest. Okay, Travis. The first question we have to ask may make you uncomfortable, but we need to know. What was your relationship with Natalie Dowd?"
This makes me sit up. "We were friends, that's all."
"Did you have a fight the day she disappeared?" This from Detective Asher.
"Excuse me?" I blink at them, and my headache worsens. "Do you think I killed her? I didn't. I would never hurt her. I love—loved—her."
"Did she feels the same?" Blaine asks, narrowing his eyes. "Gathering from your expression, I'd say no. Did that make you mad?"
"I think you need to leave," my dad snaps. "You're upsetting my son."
Once they're gone—but not without threatening to figure out how I'm connected to all of this—my dad sits back down and glares at the door.
"They have some nerve," he growls. He looks at me and his voice softens. "You don't have to talk to them if you don't want, Travis. I'm going to get something to eat, do you want me to get you some pudding?"
"I want breakfast," I tell him.
When he leaves, Natalie's there again, staring at me worriedly.
"The police came," I say. "They think I killed you."
Her good eye widens and tears up. "You would never do that, Travis. I can't believe they would think that."
"What happened?" I ask her. "Did you fall? Did someone"—I wince as I gesture to my own face, and my stomach churns with nausea—"do that to you?"
"I don't remember," she admits. "Please help me figure it out."
She's gone again when my dad comes back with food. He sets the tray down and stares at me.
"What are you looking at?" he wonders.
"Nothing," I mutter, gazing at the spot where Natalie had just been.
I rub my head. What the hell was going on?