Chapter -2
A Mistake (2)
As I sit in the, my head throbs with pain, instinctively my hands reach the back of my head and find a lump on the back of my head. I try to remember the previous night, but my memory is hazy and the headache isn't really helping. What did I do to end up in jail? Was it something really serious? I have too many questions racing through my mind, but I can't seem to find any answers.
I sit there in silence, already giving up on remembering anything. Instead, I think to myself, "I don't need to stress about what happened. It's my parents' job, not mine." Even in my head, I can clearly hear the sound of arrogance. Although in a little corner of my mind, I seem to know that the trouble I caused might just be too big, and there may be consequences, there's no use in stressing about the future.
I was just trying to relax when I happene to notice just how shabby and dirty the room is. Although there are no spider webs, there is dust all over the place like no one had cleaned it in a long time. There is a bed erected from the ground seemingly made out of stone. I try to sit on it, but it's very hard and rough. Compared to it, the floor is much softer and even though it is dirty, I guess I don't have much of a choice but to compromise a little. I am just going to sit when I notice a brown pitcher in one of the corners, opening the lid, It was filled with dust just like the whole place. Disappointed, I sit back on the floor and say to myself, "Tch, tch, what a dirty little place. How is someone supposed to even stay here?"
Suddenly, the door to my cell creaks open, and a tall, stern-looking man walks in. "Sir wants to see you," he tells me in a cold voice. Not having much of a choice I just nod at him and stand up. After taking a second to straighten my shirt, I reply, "Hmm, let's go." He waits for me to come out of the cell, then starts escorting me. Although my legs are better than before, they're still a little wobbly, and I struggle to catch up with him.
Although I'm not showing much emotion, I'm rather nervous, but I don't know why. I know my parents will bail me out no matter what kind of trouble it is, but at the same time, I'm scared too. The way to the office is rather gloomy and dark, but it's well-maintained and clean, unlike the cell. "Can you at least tell me what I did, please?" I ask him while we're walking. He replies in a mocking tone, "You are going there to know it only." I already guessed he's not much of a talker, but it seems he doesn't like me much either.
After several minutes of walking, I can see a room from which bright light is coming. After staying in the dark for a while, it takes my eyes some time to adjust. "Go in, someone is waiting for you inside with all the answers to your questions," he says, opening the door to the office, staring dead into my eyes. Reluctantly, I enter the room. It's painted red, and the ceiling is embroidered with patterns made of gold. The bookshelves cover a large part of the wall, and intricate designs are drawn on the shelves and chairs. The lighting consists of small lamps and a beautiful chandelier.
I am just looking at the room when a warm yet stiff voice calls me and says, "It's nice to finally meet you, Miss Freya."
I'm just looking at the room when a warm yet stiff voice calls me and says, "It's nice to finally meet you, Miss Freya."
"It's nice to finally meet you too, Mr?" I reply, standing there in silence, waiting for his answer.
"It's Marcus, Marcus Osbourne," he replies, smiling at me. In return, I nod.
"Please make yourself comfortable," he says while pointing towards the chair, giving me his best smile.
"Sure, I will, Mr. Marcus," I reply as I go towards the chair. He sits down and waits for me to become comfortable.
To take things slow and comfortably I start a small talk and ask him, " A rather extravagant room for a superintendent isn't it."
"It surely is Miss Freya and I feel quite lucky to have it." He says and stands up. Walking through the room he starts to say its history, "You know It is a very old jail made during the late nineteenth century. Not many records were found about the specific place as they were burned in a fire long before it was rediscovered but it's said that queen victoria was still alive during that time and one more thing the jail was quite famous for keeping even the most notorious prisoners still." He finishes his sentence glaring at me.
While I just laugh it off and ask, "So, what felony have I done, or rather what trouble did I make to end up here?" I say in a rather careless voice.
"Sorry to say, but you were correct the first time." The smirk on my face soon turns to shock, my eyes popping out of their sockets when I hear the sound of laughter.
"Tch, tch," the sound of displeasure escapes from my mouth, and I say, "Aah, what an achievement, ain't it? Finally, something that can be considered a felony. But I am kinda sad. You know I would have loved to do it intentionally or at least be mindful of my actions," I ask him, trying to maintain my composure.
He sits back down on the chair and starts laughing at me, which snaps the thin string of patience I have or rather had. "What the fuck did I even do? Would you tell me or not?" I scream at him.
Suddenly, it becomes quiet, not even the sound of breath. His eyes stare at me filled with solemnity, "Rave and Drugs," he says, and the look on his face changes to a smile, showing me my place instead. He tells me who has the upper hand here. Two words have drained all the remaining energy from me and left me without the wish to continue as I have already lost the fight. "Yo…u are kidding me right?" I say with a nervous smile and he just nods his head sideways, I sit there looking at Marcus, my face covered in a look of shock.
My mind falls into a state of crisis, thinking about all the things that can now happen as I am certain that I am alone now, and my parents probably will let me rot here. As the one thing they hate the most is drugs, suddenly I remember something. There still is one hope left I think to myself and ask him frantically " Ha…has the news spread."
He smiles and says, "You're a lucky lady, aren't ya? Fortunately, it hasn't spread yet."
I take a sigh of relief and lay my back on the chair, but before I can say anything, he continues, "Oh, but your parents know, and they should be on their way."
This info isn't all that relieving, but I decide not to think much about it for now and instead decide to tell him whatever I remember. "It was a normal party invite like I usually get. The party was at a very famous club, 'The Black Hearts.' Before I can continue, I am interrupted, and he asks, "Are you trying to say you were framed?"
I look at him surprised and say, "Experience isn't it, but please listen to me at least once."
He just gives me a nod, and I continue, "I was there with some of my friends and was enjoying the party, dancing, and all. I remember drinking something offered by one of my friends. She said it was something special, and without thinking much, I drank it." I am interrupted again, and this time he mocks me, saying, "Let me guess the rest. You suddenly blacked out or something, and the next thing you know, you woke up here."
"Do you think I am a fool?" he shouts, scaring the hell out of me. For a minute or so, I just stare at him before saying, "No, I didn't black out. Instead, I started feeling dizzy, and the world seemed beautiful. That's all I remember. I don't know what happened next or how I got here, but I promise you, I don't do drugs." I'm quite nervous saying all this, but it's what it is.
"Hmm, so you're saying somebody drugged you, and then you just remember waking up here?" he says. He sounds quite serious too. I give him a nod, but I remember something and say, "Oh no, I do remember waking up in a dirty dark room with bars, but I'm pretty sure it wasn't the cell I later woke up in." He just stares at me, shocked. "You, you remember it?" he asks. I nod at him when he says, "Listen carefully. You are correct. It wasn't the cell; instead, it was." Before he can complete his sentence, the door bangs open, and someone shouts, "Where, where is that useless brat?"
When I look toward the source of the sound, fear takes over me, and tears start falling down my eyes. It's my mother and father.