“Hello? Is there anybody in there? Just nod if you can hear
me. Is there anyone home?” Oswald sang to the dark wall in front of him. He
hadn’t a single clue how much time had past since his incarceration. He could
feel his brain popping like popcorn. He could feel his soul exiting through his
mouth as he sang Pink Floyd lyrics. Any smile he had that day could be chalked
up to mind-numbing insanity. It didn’t even occur to him to call for help even
though nobody would answer him. It occurred to him even less to pound on the
walls. His stomach growled in a leonine voice, but all he could hear were the
echoes of a distant time come willowing across the sand.
And then his one-man show was finally interrupted by the
opening of his cell door, keys jangling in the lock and all. The intense light
flooded the room and burned Oswald’s retinas so badly that he cowered in the
corner shielding his face. All he could see past his fingers was the silhouette
of a trench coat-wearing female. It was nothing like the kind of coat Antero
regularly wore to keep up his Matrix gimmick. This was professional-looking.
And the woman’s voice was nothing short of professional-sounding.
“Bad few days, huh, Mr. Crow?” said Detective Mia Barry,
whose face came into plain view once the light had dimmed a little.
Through a withering voice, Oswald asked, “What do you want
from me this time?”
“I have some good news for you, Oz-Man.”
“You saved a bunch of money on your car insurance by
switching to Geico?”
Mia giggled. “No, not that, although they do have nice
customer service. I’m talking about good news as it relates to your charges.”
Oswald lowered his hands as his red eyes adjusted to the
darkening light. “I’m listening.”
“Our tech guys scoured your computer and sifted through
further evidence. There’s no proof you were ever involved with
Incelbordination. From the looks of things, you couldn’t get out of that chat
room fast enough.”
“W…wait a minute…you mean…what I did at the warehouse?
That’s been cleared up too?”
Folding her arms and leaning against the cell door, Mia
explained, “Three witnesses put you at that scene. Well, only two if you’re not
counting that meathead Wacey Judge. Miss Sand and Miss Johnson put in a good
word for you. They said you were argumentative, but otherwise safe to be
around. You should thank those two, you know. They stuck their necks out for
you. They wouldn’t do that if they thought you were a terrorist.”
Oswald could finally open his eyes to full capacity in
expression of disbelief. “Those three…they’re alive?”
“Actually, we performed some necromancy on them and asked
them the hard-hitting questions once they were properly summoned. Of course
they’re alive, silly!”
A slowly forming smile crept upon Oswald’s face. “Does that
mean…you finally got Antero?!”
Scratching her nose, Mia said, “Actually, that’s where the
bad news begins. Antero Magnus is still out there somewhere. He and his incel
buddies bailed on us at the last minute. Of course, you wouldn’t know that,
because you got knocked the fuck out before we got there. You’ve still got a
knot on your forehead from whatever Antero did to you.”
Oswald winced in pain as he prodded the fresh bruise on his
forehead.
“Are you ready to hear the other half of the good news or do
you want to poke your forehead some more?” Oswald excitedly nodded and Mia was
happy to present the news after clearing her throat. “It turns out you do have
a legal prescription for your marijuana use. The only reason why it was so hard
to obtain was because you used your monthly dosage too soon. Just how much of
that shit have you been puffing on at once?”
On account of being kneed in the face by Antero, Oswald
actually had to think his absolute hardest to find out. He had been puffing
every day like a diesel train without a thought of consequence. He puffed
whenever he was nervous. He puffed because he could. He puffed whenever his
favorite song came on his play list. Puff, puff, puff, nonstop,
twenty-four-seven. No wonder his trench coat always smelled awful. He damned
himself when he said, “Stupid!” and would have face-palmed if that bruise
wasn’t jutting out so far.
“Yeah, you need to be more careful with your medication,
Oz-Man. It’s not supposed to be for recreational use.”
“Well yeah, it makes sense now! I…just have one more question
and then I’ll leave you alone.”
“You can ask as many questions as you want, Oswald. This
isn’t an interrogation. Besides, I kind of owe you that luxury after you’ve
spent so much time in here for nothing. This would actually be a good time for
your marijuana usage.”
Oswald sighed and rubbed the sleepiness out of his eyes.
“Whatever happened to Jessica? Is she going to be alright?” Mia’s face softened
at the mention of her name. “What? What’s going on?”
“You must be referring to Jessica Bradley, the teenage
prostitute we stuck you with. Yeah, she, uh…” Mia scratched the back of her
neck in search of the right way to say what she needed to say. She sighed and
finally spit it out. “She hung herself the night Antero took you away. We tried
CPR, but she didn’t make it. I’m sorry, Oswald. She’s dead.”
The dwarf buried his face in his hands and let the tears
sting his already burning eyes. His heart sank into the pit of his stomach. His
posture hunched over to where his neck ached. He even shouted, “Fuck!” as he
pounded the wall behind him, aggravating his fist injuries even further.
“Fucking hell!” he groaned while massaging his hand.
“Fourteen years old, Oswald. Even with prostitution on her
record, she had her whole life ahead of her. She must have had some tough
demons to face beforehand. Come to think of it, you’ve probably got some demons
of your own to face. I would advise you to seek psychological help once you’re
free. We don’t need another suicide, especially when you yourself have your
whole life ahead of you as well.”
The dwarf gasped hard in between sobs. “Everything…I
touch…turns to shit!”
“You see that? You see?!” Mia snapped, her following words
growing more erratic as she pointed her finger. “That’s the reason why you need
help! You are not a horrible person! You are not an incel terrorist! You are
not a drug addict! You’re a human fucking being! If you kill yourself like
Jessica did, you will have wasted your freedom and wasted an opportunity to set
things right! Is that what you want?!”
“I just…I just want…” Oswald snorted snot up his nose and
wiped the rest away with his sleeve. “I just want things to make sense, that’s
all.”
Mia nodded and softened her tone. “I guess that’s something
we all want, don’t we? But if you don’t seek help, nothing will ever make sense
again. I know therapy is expensive, but it’s worth every penny. Oswald, I don’t
want to watch you die in front of me. You’re innocent. You’ve been proven
innocent by someone who’s waiting for you in the parking lot right now. She
wants to give you a ride back to your dorm. She’s also the reason why we found
your prescription in the first place. Come on, let’s go meet her.”
The detective approached Oswald and helped the sobbing dwarf
to his feet. The two of them held hands together as they walked out of the
police station. He knew she was just being a comfort to him, but handholding
actually felt good for what it was. It didn’t have to be lovey-dovey. The kind
gesture should have been appreciated and it was. I could never be an incel,
thought Oswald as the last of his tears dried up on his sleeve.
After Oswald received his belongings (sans pot), Mia held
the door open for him and said, “Have a good evening, little man. Get some
sleep. You need it.”
His eyes lit up behind glassy vision when he saw a familiar
woman standing next to her car with her arms folded. “No way,” said Oswald. It
was true. She too had been through a lot. She too had watery pupils. She too
had a bruise on her face, though hers was swollen over one eye.
“Come on, little dude. Let’s get you home,” said Nikita
Johnson as she opened the passenger door and offered to help Oswald inside.
