Making Life Worth While
Page 6
CHAPTER FOUR
Once I regained consciousness, I was sweaty as the air was humid and the putrid odor of the toilet made it even thicker. The Sun was fairly close to the zenith, and I was already getting a slight tan when I woke up. I felt my head to find that it was tender and there was a slight bump on my crown. At the moment, I wished that someone would’ve cared about me enough to venture out and look for me. Alas, I was left in there for at least a few hours. I attempted to open the door, but there was something obscuring the latch. Kicking the toilet, I tipped the whole thing on its side and the impact caused the door to fling open. I sprinted to the front of the station and went in. Decomposing fecal odor masked me, but I didn’t bother to even think about trying to care. I could hear elevator music being played on the intercom. Inside the lobby was nobody but myself. Behind the doors that led to the unfinished room was indistinct speech. Seeing the sergeant come out of the door gave me a sigh of relief, though he didn’t look happy.
He shook his head and his lips were frowning at me for an unknown reason. The thick eyebrows on his face were angled so that it put me in discomfort. Finally, he spoke to me.
“Well?”
I didn’t dare to say anything about Hollard because the money was gone anyway. But then the part of me that wanted revenge took over. Before I could speak to the intimidating officer, he said, “Ever heard of Craig Humboldt?”
“Hey, I have something to tell you before you-“
“He accused his employer of stealing some money, household items, and his car. After the employer was sentenced to ten years, Craig frequently visited the employer. People began to notice that something was wrong and decided to take action. Investigations found that Craig worked with the employer to gain money from the hype spawned by the accusation. This employer, who is now thought to be your companion, is George Camden.”
“I’ve never met a guy with that name before,” I sternly voiced.
“Is that why Camden just told us about your friendship now?” Hollard proclaimed as he stepped into the room.
“You,” I said, “you’re the person in charge of this entire thing. You shoved me into the potty out in the parking and had me choke on a cloth. You’re in it with Bill!”
“Hey Travis,” said George as he emerged into the room in handcuffs while being led by Officer Clements. Her eyes had the look of betrayal in them, as if I had let her and everybody else down in a scam in which I had grandiose plans to rake in money. Although George was ultimately unhappy about the situation as a whole, he enjoyed my expense within the chaos that was the police station. One sure thing about the tragic downfall was that Hollard was bad and not to be trusted whatsoever. As for every other questionable person around me, I was unsure about who was with me. It was even a challenge to get myself to believe that Officer Clements was merely tricked into thinking that I had failed the town. She had her eye intently focused on George as he resumed talking.
“Sorry, but I just couldn’t keep it in.”
At that point, I started to have second thoughts on how George viewed the situation. He most likely sought pleasure in attending my personal downfall. I only had one thing to say.
I eased my viewpoint in, “Hollard, you have my $1200. Don’t lie.”
I was being as calm as possible even though my own mind wanted to forbid any compromise with civil attitude. The only thing that was in my favor was the fact that Hollard was tense, loud, and stern.
“You better not lie!” Hollard yelped.
“I’m not lying,” I added, “you hit me right here in the head with that bat in your hand.”
“The absurdity of that accusation is inexcusable!” Hollard exclaimed, “That bump has always been there, and I had nothing to do with its formation and origin. All of the evidence clearly shows that you’re guilty of falsely accusing Bill Bishop and George Camden of stealing one thousand two hundred dollars when you were working with them. You were fully conscious of the fact that the money was completely safe. Thus, the only theft that transpired involved the Pine Grove Police Force’s money by causing them to waste their budget on a pursuit that was of no avail. During the time between the moment of accusation and us finding otherwise, a crime was committed in Pine Grove. Even with the effort exerted by the officers on duty, a person under the influence of drugs beat a teenager near one of the taverns. You, therefore, also deserve to be charged in part for that incident. Luckily for you, the judge already said he would not even consider those charges.”
“What do you mean charges?” I yelled in bewilderment.
“Travis Hilton,” the sergeant announced as he approached me with handcuffs, “you’re under arrest.”
“You’ll be the defendant in tomorrow’s case, Pine Grove vs. Travis Hilton and George Camden.”
I was sent to one of the six cells in the penitentiary. Having a friend in that situation would’ve been alleviating, but not one person cared for me at that time. Rough and cumbersome were the next few hours as I tried to even faintly comprehend what was happening. I was confused on why Hollard even thought up this conglomeration of painful things to inflict upon me. It just did not make any sense, and I couldn’t get it out of my mind. I wouldn’t let it go, not even for a second. I kept trying to envision myself as Hollard. I repeatedly tried to see what he found in this confrontation. I pondered on about his childhood and wondered if he was mistreated before adult years. Maybe, I thought, he went through some traumatizing things before adolescence. Even as my stomach growled, I stayed within my euphoria to try and reach some sort of epiphany that would rationalize why he was so menacing to me in particular. Even the fact that we just never liked each other wasn’t satisfying because the whole town was had pretty much the same mentality.
Then I began to get even crazier as my imagination pictured a bunch of different possible scenarios. Some of them were far-fetched, while others were not plausible from any viewpoint. I figured that there might have been a worldwide conspiracy against me for a reason that I didn’t even know about. In the past, there might’ve been some kind of feud between my family and other people in the world.
My brain then made another wacky diversion: Maybe my parents didn’t die on accident and that they were going to die via some scheme created by a person they came into contact with. After making this jumbled up illusion, I tried to back it up with evidence that was barely sensible. Since my dad was a flawless driver when I was with him, I figured how in the world was it probable that he didn’t slam on the breaks in time to avoid the deer. I started to make myself try and remember when I went through Greenhill even though it had been decades at the time of my night in jail. Could the deer have been led to the road on cue? Was there an oil slick on the road? These were among the countless outcomes that I dubbed possible. As the racing thoughts flew through my cranium, I did absolutely nothing as far as sorting out my conspiracy theories. This turned on me as the dawn of day was near. A majority of my ideas were forgotten once the morning light shone upon Pine Grove. All that remain was a mixed up summary of what I figured to be the undeniable truth. That infallible concept was that no one in Pine Grove was trustworthy, with a minute exception of Clements depending on how she would act during the trial. So, after a night of complete madness and chaos, I went right back to where I started. The only difference between me on the day of the trial and the day prior to that was that I was worn out, confused, and stressed out. I was not looking forward to the day ahead and I actually started to contemplate on the conspiracies that might befall me during the trial. After much more time, I just decided to get at least a tiny bit of rest. I was all alone.