River:
How did I compromise my integrity? the answer is Medallion. An underground organization willing to trade money for favors. Nobody truly knows what they are linked to - but there certainly are rumors: human trafficking, drug cartel, KKK, political manipulation, money laundering - the list continues. I'm pretty sure you understand that when nobody truly has a clue - anything goes. And the more entertaining the hypothesis - the more it sells.
I - indeed - was willing to exchange a favor for money: the money I needed for April's medical bills - she was my responsibility now. The deal was simple: I would get the transfer in a month, and I would also receive a task I should perform in exchange - a thing I had to do. I didn't want to think what would happen if If I didn't follow through. The task could be anything, but it would exclude unforgivable sins: Murder, torture and abuse. It was expected the task should be discrete enough to allow me to continue with my life thereafter - but other than that, it was a complete wildcard. This task was called the 'favor' - the service I was selling Medallion in exchange for the money to save April. It was a gray area I was walking into - a thin line between good and evil. You can tell by my actions how desperate I was. When I said I would do anything - I meant it.
How did I think Medallion work? By having people like me be their legs. Somehow my task needed to add up with the task another person received - a network of single serving employees desperate enough not to ask questions. Implicated enough not to go around confessing.
I lived with my boyfriend then - Malcolm. He didn't know what I was getting myself into. He didn't know I had contacted Medallion. I couldn't tell him - he worked for the police. It was indeed a very thin line I was walking. I remember being scared out of my mind before getting my task assignment on the mailbox. It wasn't delivered by mail, it was placed in my mailbox. Opening somebody's mailbox without their consent is a federal crime. Medallion didn't care about committing federal crime - what could I do, report them? This is how cornered they had me. I remember questioning my choices that morning as I internalized how defenseless I was against them - I couldn't ask for help without incriminating myself. I couldn't tell Malcolm without implicating him. Most likely he would be implicated by extension regardless though. There was another secondary underlying message that worried me even more from the way I receiving that letter: I know where you live. Where you - and Malcolm - live.
It was a small white envelope with a cryptical note on its inside. I was clueless to its words then. But little did I know that in the future I would connect the dots to interpret the chaos that was being asked from me. How dearly I would have to pay. The letter read: 'Contain the red passenger.'