To Snap The Legs Of A Table

To Snap The Legs Of A Table


“Tell me exactly what you saw, okay? Make it easier for the both of us and get this over with.”

“…”

“…I… Okay, yeah, I understand you’re upset, kid. Obviously, whatever happened must have been pretty messed up. But I really don’t feel like playing good cop, or bad cop for that matter. I’d like to play get-shit-done cop, so open up.”

…I really don’t want to talk to her. I feel like I can’t breathe. Breath after breath keeps going in and out, in and out, yet I feel like I’m not getting enough air. My mind is swimming, but my face can only look down at the dimly lit table in a dampened gaze. I’ve gotta say something, but what? For one thing, people like her scare me, and fear is the last thing I need. I’m practically drunk with anxiety. I’m light headed, I’m tired, I’m scared… And they’re dead, my very own friends. And does she care? Not really, no. Not one bit. And what about Nico, what about Travis? Are they alive? They’ve gotta be. Do I really have to say anything, though? These guys try to frame me or something. Maybe I can get out of this, maybe I can-

“-Yeah, this is boring, I’m done. Bailiff!” She interrupts. My eyes promptly widen, my head jerking up in fear. From the looks of her, I hadn’t expected her patience to be that short. In just a couple moments, a hefty looking character - a meathead of a pit-bull - marches into the room, adorned in a full blue police suit, gun and everything.

“Veronica?” He says with service. His middle name might as well be ‘obedience’.
“This one isn’t talking, and I get a feeling he isn’t-“

“Wait,” I blurt out. The two started to stare at me, making me even more
uncomfortable. Than again, this is probably the safest place I’ve been in quite sometime. “I-I’ll talk, okay? I need to collect my thoughts, just please don’t take me away.”

I see a glimmer of sympathy - and curiosity - in her vulpine eyes. She motions the bailiff away, who promptly leaves the room, and positions herself with her elbows on the table, staring at me with a burning intent. “Well, go ahead, I’m all ears,” she says, her white ears perking up right on cue.

“I-I… I was…” I stuttered. I couldn’t exactly process what happened. I could only look to my blind spot, and of course I found nothing there. My eyes, nervously darting around the room, happen to catch the gaze of her own. Our eyes match only for half a second, but I can tell her patience is waning. I close my eyes, halting their frenzy, and I take a nice, deep breathe. The recycled and slightly smokey air finally filled my lungs with enough oxygen, lightly exhaling a good chunk of my anxiety. Crossing my legs and holding my hands together in a semi-polite fashion, I open my mouth, and attempt yet again to formulate some coherency: “Alright, well, I-I guess I should start from the beginning. I’m guessing it was a little after ten; me and a few other guys had just had something to eat over by the local Burger King. After that, we sorta wondered around. We were actually planning to do a B-“ No! Don’t say that. Was I really just about to let that slip? I can’t tell a damn police officer, ‘Oh we were gonna pull a B&E, no big deal!’ My eyes feel like they’re gonna pour out of their sockets like egg yoke with how wide they are now. Hold your breath, don’t panic.

“A what?” The vixen says, a slight eagerness to her voice, no doubt having noticed my sudden halt.

“A-a beeline! My friend, Nico, his place was just down the road, we were gonna head straight down there, but there was construction or something, so we had to go around, that’s why we were in the alleyways,” I explain. “We didn’t really wanna go through them, but he lives in a weird part of town.” What a good save. Thank God I thought of that. Still, when she squints her eyes like that, I feel like she’s catching on. I don’t like that. I really need to be more careful with what I say, especially in a damn interrogation room, or whatever they call this place.

“Alright, go on,”

“W-well… Y-yeah, so we’re walking along down this alley, and suddenly Duke, the cheetah with the green eyes, says he’s gotta take a piss. So, being a gentlemen, he runs back down another alley, saying he’ll be right back. Thing is, he wasn’t… I mean, we must’ve been there for ten minutes waiting for his dumb ass to get back, but he never did. We get annoyed and finally decide to go off and look for him. Now, granted, we didn’t want to; none of us wanted to round a corner and see a guy taking a leak, am I right?”

“…That’s a rather vulgar way to put it, but sure, I guess,”

“Okay, well, so, yeah, we went to where we thought he was, but we couldn’t find anyone. We called out, looked around everywhere, tried his cell, but no Duke. Now… What happens next I’m kinda hazy on, so I apologize if I can’t precise details,”

“It’s fine. Actually, if I may interrupt quickly, may you please recap who exactly was with you at the time of the incident?”

“Oh, y-yeah, sure… So, there was Duke, Marcel, the other Cheetah, Nico, the gecko, and Travis, the ginger wolf, and me of course…”

“…Okay… In that case, please continue,” she says, speaking much softer than before. I can’t help but feel worried. Why did she pause? Why did she cross her arms? Why is she looking down? It feels like she’s the one who knows more than me, why not have HER in for questioning? Why am I the one here? I didn’t do anything wrong… Maybe I’m over thinking this. Hell, I’m probably still in shock for all I know. Just shut up, brain, and continue talking.

“Alright, so, um-“

“Actually, hold that thought, I’ve got another question,” She interrupts, again. She pulls out a second notepad and jams the back of her pen on the table, effectively clicking as she flips it in her paw - a rather smooth move, I’ve gotta say - and starts staring at me again. I really didn’t need her doing that. I just noticed I’ve been trying to avert my gaze the entire time; I really hope that doesn’t make her suspicious. “You guys are just hanging out on the streets? Why’s that?”

“…” I pause, not quite sure how to respond to that. I mean, I did know how, but it should be obvious WHY we were out there, just look at me. “Good question, um, I-I mean, we’re inner-city kids, what can I say? We’re too poor to go clubbing, and too dignified to go around like those gangs to go waving guns around like dumb-asses. We scrape to get by, and we mind our own business. Simple.” I see her hastily write some lines in her notepad, before locking her eyes onto mine again.

“Alright, alright…” She mutters, not in an annoyed way, more like she’s thinking hard about something, analyzing something. I can see the cold logic computing in her eyes; it’s actually kinda creepy. I wonder if all arctic fox chicks are this weird.

“So… any more questions?”

“Yes, in fact,” She says, almost sardonically, flipping another page in her little notebook. I really wanted to rip that thing out of her paws, it’s making me jittery… “What does Darnell the hyena do for a living, ah?

Excellent question! I’ve got a Ph.D in mugging people and robbing houses. Of all questions, she had to ask that. Well, technically I am “Unemployed, been so for a few weeks now.”

“Huh, okay. So, how do you have money than?” Jeez! why won’t she let me finish my story? That’s why I’m here, right? How does ANY of this help her in the LEAST?

“W-well, my family helps my out to a good degree. The rest of them are out in Wattleboro, so I’m the one stuck here in the city. And I still got some money from my last job as a McDonalds co-manager.”

“Wattleboro, eh? Okay. Nice town. So you mention you ‘were’ a co-manager? What happened?” I suppose I’m going to have to lie for this one, again.

“I was just laid off. Had a job, than I didn’t.” That, and they didn’t keep a tight enough lock on their cash registers.

“…Laid off… Eh, economy I guess. So you’re looking for your friend, but can’t find him, than what?”

Finally, back to the story. I roll my eyes a little, even feeling tempted to groan. That’d probably piss her off though, so I held back. “Well, we’re looking around one alley, dark as hell, a-and Travis, he… He starts complaining about it starting to rain, like he’’s noticing rain drops or something. But: one, it was a clear night, full moon in the sky, no rain, no clouds, no nothin’. We look to see what was getting him wet, and we find that, well, number two: rain ain’t red.” She leans forward in anticipation, clearly noticing that I’ve gotten to the good part. But she isn’t saying a word, she’s just staring… I can’t help but to take a deep breath. The memory of that night is pretty much seared into my head. If I forget anything, it’s because I worked hard to repress it. I need to relax. I’m here to do a duty; a stupid one, but a duty nonetheless. “So… I-I mean, I start to get scared. A-and Travis, he’s freaking out too. Obviously, we all asses its blood, that much we know. But Nico, he’s the logical one: he’s the one already trying to figure out what the hell it is. He sees there’s a fire-escape right above us, so he starts climbin’ up there like nobody’s business. You know lizards, they’re excellent climbers.“

“Yes, well, we aren’t talking about lizards, are we? Please stay on track, Mr. Johnson…”

“…Y-yes, ma’am…” I’m not going to lie, she intimidates me, but that was just rude. Like she was on track earlier? Hypocrite. I don’t like detectives or police or the like, they give me the creeps. I’m not sure why, but that comment hurt… Here I am opening myself up, and she jabs me on the inside. No doubt it’s showing on my face; an expression of pain, even submission. I can’t seem to stop averting my damn gaze. Looking her in the eyes just feels like too large of a burden to carry. It’s almost like she’s trying to hypnotize me, but instead of calming me down she’s freaking me out. Heartless b-

“Darnell, please stop daydreaming and continue. What does your friend find?”

“…Y-yeah, sorry… um… Well, Nico isn’t one to freak out at stuff, but as quick as he got up there, he leaps right down, a look of horror just planted right on his face. We ask him what’s up, and he just starts rambling about Duke and stab wounds and some shit, I-I dunno. all I know is, shit went down, and Duke was dead… N-now, at this point, Marcel just looses it. I remember him shoving Nico outta the way and climbing up to see for himself. Next thing I know, somethin’ lands with a giant thud, and Marcel jumps down right after. Through a streak of moonlight, we could see it clear as day… Fuckin’ sick…”

“The body?”

“Y-yeah…”

She flicks another page of her note book and starts writing again. I guess she’s busy, so I’ll relax… Every other room in here had a computer, I wonder why she ain’t using one… Whatever… I cross my arms on the table and lie my head down. It’s probably early evening right now, but I feel tired. Not that I’m sleepy, just burdened… It’s been days since it happened, yet I still want to cry. I guess it hasn’t really hit me, maybe that’s why I haven’t yet… All I feel is fear, cowardice, and sorrow, and they don’t make me want to cry. Half of me wants to tuck my tail between my legs and look around the room like a paranoid schizo-case. The other half of me, the tired, sad side, just wants to lie here and make everything go away. An airy sigh only goes to show I can only wish that I could.

“…Um, Darnell? Please tell me you aren’t napping,”

Suddenly, I’m flung from out of my head. I can almost physically feel the momentum of going from your head to reality. It’s sort of like when a car suddenly slams on the gas and you fly back in your seat, only mental. I peek my eyes up, sigh, and mutter a weak ‘sorry’, once again looking down.

“It’s okay. I understand you must be tired. You’ve been through a lot these past few days,” she says. No kidding. I perked my ears, though. Her tone isn’t the same, it’s… warm, and kind, almost like she’s another person. “But you and I want the same thing: to find whoever did this and bring them to justice, alright?”

I nod, a small smile finding its way onto my face. Her empathy was uplifting, and she’s right: I’ve been through worst these past few days. This probably the safest I’ve been in a good while, so I shouldn’t fret. Still, this wasn’t an easy job.

“Right, right… So, I mean-“ I’m not sure what to say. It was a corpse riddled with stab and claw marks. Thinking about it made me wanna wretch. Just tell the truth, the truth. I sigh and start again: “…It was hard to see any details, there was a hell of a lot of blood. Just random stab marks everywhere, even some claw marks, and they were deep by the looks of ‘em. Must’a been a tiger or leopard or something. A-and Marcel was with me the entire time! So it couldn’t have been him. And mine are crap, see?” I bring my paw up, showing my dull nails. “These things couldn’t get me out of a cardboard box, much less break skin. Now, Marcel starts freakin’ out at this point. He was yelling, cursing and stuff, even in tears. I remember at the long end of the alley, we saw a dark figure just standing there. He had eyes that we could see all the way from the other end. They were glowing green or some shit, I dunno. Now, Marcel-“

“Stop for just a moment, please,” She says rather politely. “What did this person look like?”

“O-oh… Well, at that moment, it was just sort of a silhouette with bright green eyes at the far end of the alley. But I do see him again, and I’m just getting to that,” I reply
.
“Alright,” She says, writing some stuff in her notebook, no doubt about the physical description of this guy. “Thank you for letting me interrupt, now please continue.”

You’re the detective, not me. Did I really have much of any choice? “You’re welcome, I suppose, um. So, yeah, Marcel, cheetah number 2, he sees this suspicious guy, and he’s dead sure its him, and he just bolts after him in a fit of rage. The three of us are surprised, so I, being faster than Nico and Travis, run after him while they do other stuff; calling 911 I guess. Meanwhile, I’m trying to keep up with Marcel. I’m not actually sure where the figure had gone at that point. That is…” I can’t do this. I squint my eyes and pause, facing downward with a sullen expression.

“Are you okay…?”

“Yeah, I-i’m fine…” I ain’t, and it’s painfully obvious. I’d replayed it so many times in my head, yet not once have I been able to find words to accurately describe it. Memory is really the only medium it can exist in. It’s unbelievably hard to teach experience. “Anyways, having chased him up around a couple blocks I’d say, I’m already tired as hell. My sides are hurting and I’m practically wheezing. I round a corner, only to see Marcel and that figure right in front me. Immediately I see Marcel un-sheath his claws and try to swipe at the bastard. But he’s dodging it like he’s a ninja or something, I dunno. A-and then… It was a blur, I guess… I’m not sure what I saw.” I say, a tone of concern and anxiety returning to my tone.

“What do you mean?”

“T-these… These things start coming out of the dark, like snakes or something, and I guess they grabbed his arm or something. Marcel just couldn’t move or nothing; weird-ass tentacle things are wr-wrapping around him…” Behind the stoic expression of the vixen’s face, I could see in her eyes a sense of confusion emerge. I know I sound like someone who just had a real bad acid trip (I’d know), but I saw what I saw, and it looked almost as though like she believed me. She isn’t saying a word though. I think I finally plucked her absolute curiosity. “Now this, I remember vividly. I remember seeing him pull out a knife, which hit some moonlight, which ended up shining on him. For a split second, I get a good luck at this bastard, and you may want to write this down: green eyes, tall, though not too tall, grey facial fur, and a long muzzle, like a dog or wolf’s.”

“…Interesting. I’ve got to tell you, this is actually the best description we’ve gotten so far, so thank you, seriously. But you only got to see his face?”

“Yup. He must’ve been wearin’ some kinda hoodie or something, ‘cause the rest of him was just black. And not black as in black fur, but just pitch black. For some reason, though, that alone just made him terrifying to see.”

“Huh… So, you’re friend?”

“Yeah… Marcel… A-after I saw that knife pop out, I got a quick glance at him, and than bolted… I was scared shitless, and I… I could only hear Marcel crying behind me in pain. I see Nico and Travis running towards me, and I yell at them to get the hell out of there.” I could feel tears trying to well up in my eyes. My head’s in my paws and I feel like dying right now. What I really wanted to do was puke, and not because of all the hospital food I’ve been having. Talking about this with my own voice, my own words, to another person made me physically sick to my stomach. I even spit up some in my own mouth (tastes wretched), but she’s writing, so I don’t think she noticed. Just hold it in, hold it in. Keep it together.

Suddenly, she looks up from her notepad, pen still in hand. “What did you do next?”

Sighing and closing my eyes yet again, I reply with a depressed tone, anchored and chained to the inner conflict running rampant in my brain meat: “I ran a few meters, and suddenly it went black… One moment I’m running, next moment I’m waking up wet in a puddle of blood with a paramedic hunched over me and the biggest headache I’ve ever had. To say the least, it was a shitty way to start a saturday morning.”

I can only hear the scribbling of ink on paper, the scratching and rustling of the paper taking full advantage of the room’s reverb. That noise is starting to piss me off, I can’t take it. It’s like I’m back In school, only with more murders.

All of a sudden, a thud comes from the table. I flinch and jolt my head up, looking at the arctic fox straight in her cold and calculating eyes. She seems a little sad, though. She groans, rubs her face, and begins talking.

“Okay… Listen: from what we’ve found at the crime scene as well as what you’ve provided, I can safely say you are no longer a suspect,” Damn straight I ain’t. “We actually found claw marks in the body of Duke, the green eyed Cheetah you say, correct?”

“Yes.”

“Okay. Anyhow, the marks were indeed quite deep. They couldn’t have been that of a gecko’s or a hyena’s for sure, and Marcel killing Duke wouldn’t make any sense. Chances are, it was a wolf. The claw marks revealed that the claws must have been long, sharp, and feline-like, but not exactly; almost as though the perpetrator had fashioned them that way, no doubt with the intent of murder in mind. Now… we did actually get a 911 report from someone about a murder that night, with the caller identifying themselves as Nicholas Martines.”

“Yeah! Martines, that’s right! So they did call!”

“Indeed, that’s how we knew.” Her face grew dark, looking down in what appeared to be… sorrow? “I’ve also got some bad news… We found a hell of a lot of blood in that alley way where you were found, along with traces of fur that we confirmed to be, no doubt, that of a red wolf’s… W-we also found what we assume to be Nico’s head, and just that…”

Every bone in my body felt like it was going to snap and reduce me to a puddle of goo. I physically heave, nearly up-chucking all over the desk. Dead. Dead. Nico and Travis, dead. That bastard; that son of a bitch. My gaze darts into her eyes like bullets. I can feel the look of terror on my face; I don’t have to look in the mirror to see the look of a desperate and pathetic being.

“W-what…? W-what the fu-…? Just the head?”

“…I’m deeply sorry, Darnell, I am… I understand this must be hard-“

“Hard!? You’re telling me one of my friends is missing, and the other one decapitated! It’s not hard, it’s excruciating!” I can’t hold myself back from yelling. I know she’s trying to be nice, but seriously. I’m pissed, confused, and hurt. I feel like a damn pun cushion.

“Sir, lower your voice, now!” She yells (ironically). I look at her with a look that probably says ‘I wanna slit your throat right now’. I couldn’t help it. I literally can feel the rage oozing out of my eye sockets.

But, of course she’s remaining stoic as ever, glaring at me with an icy look that, quite frankly, chills me to the core. It doesn’t take long for me to back down. I’m not a very tough guy when faced directly. I’m not even all that averse to being called a wimp. It just feels like she’s jamming icicles into my eyes to plug up the anger. The scary thing was it works. I guess I should apologize…

“…Yes, ma’am, s-sorry ma’am…” I saw submissively. I really don’t want anymore trouble. I’ve got MORE than enough of that.

“It’s understandable. I was hoping you already knew those other two were dead, but I wasn’t sure. I guess they aren’t really good at telling people things around here, so my apologies to that, too. Now, please listen: I know this is a hell of a lot to take in. I can’t begin to understand how you feel. So, I’m gonna let you go.”

“T-thanks, ma’am… I’m glad I could help,” I reply. And with that, I finally get up from my chair, my legs feeling fumbled from all that sitting. I stretch some, and make my way to the door, until I feel something grab my arm. I turn around, and I’m met with a compassionate face.

“And once again… I’m sorry. My deepest condolences to you, sir. I pray that this works out.”

I chuckle a little, finally finding a smile somewhere inside of me. “Amen, and hallelujah,” I reply, flashing her a somewhat hopeful grin, before finally making my way out of the room. I look up at the clock: 8:56. Dang, it’s late. I guess I should head home. I softly amble through the station, trying to avoid eye contact with as many people as possible, finally making it out the front door and into the street. The activity has died down some from how it was earlier. There are some cars on the streets, but no one’s honking at each other or anything; no one’s in a rush. I look up at the police station one last time, bidding it a somewhat fond farewell, and then starting my trek home. It’s only a few blocks away.

#

The walk home was quiet. I didn’t really think about anything; I just took in the cool air, the neon night-life lights, and the consistent concrete beneath my feet, passing by a shady (or partying) pedestrian every-so-often. I almost passed by my building, having not payed any attention to where I was going. Well, here I am, right outside my door. I search around my pocket for a few seconds, looking for my keys. I was always losing the damn things.

Ah-hah! Found them. I stick my key in the lock, letting the clockwork of cogs and tumblers do their magic, finally unlocking my door with a series of metallic clicks. It feels good to be home. Finally feels good to be back after all this crap. Having been hospitalized, attacked, interrogated, and knocked out, I’d say that this weekend has been shit, absolute shit. I need to collect my thoughts, that’s what I should do.

I make a ‘beeline’ (pfft) to the refrigerator and grab a beer, pop it open, and take a swig; cold, refreshing, and cheap as cheap gets. I know it tastes like crap, but you get used to it after a while, especially when it’s all you can afford. I still have a damn headache, though. I’ll probably go lie down; it’ll be a nice break from concrete and hospital beds. Come to think of it, my back was killing me too…

With a beer still in my hand, I amble over to my tv area and plop down onto the futon, fit with a couple pillows and a comforter. Some would disagree with calling this a bed, but who cares. It does the job, so what can I say? It’s comfy.

I just stare at the ceiling at this point. I didn’t even want to watch whatever crappy late-night television was on. Hell, I didn’t even know where the remote is, so why bother? All I want to do is rest, and that’s it. My head hurts, my back hurts, my feelings hurt…

…And they’re dead. They’re really dead. It just hit me, and it feels like I got whacked with a baseball bat. Nico, Travis, Duke, Marcel, all dead… I grew up with those bastards, I’ve known them since middle school. We survived on the streets together, like a family, and now they’re gone. What do I really have anymore? Nothing?

I finally feel those sweet tears welling up in my eyes. I’m finally alone, in the dark, and I can finally cry. And that’s exactly what I do. I let it go and I cry. I punch my pillow, I scream and curse, and I curl up into a ball wishing I was six feet under. The feeling Is indescribable. It literally feels as though my heart had gone skydiving, but without a parachute, and it’s finally touched down, smushed like a bug. I can barely breathe, my entire windpipe feeling like going inside out.

I sob for a good thirty minutes. I don’t think, I don’t speak, I just cry, alone, in my apartment, in the dark. I need to get a hang of this, though. I had my little breakdown… Maybe I’ll go for another walk, it’ll do my some good.

With that, I wipe my tears and get up out of my little dingy cot. I grab another beer, my jacket, my shoes, ready to head out. I put my paw on the door knob and turn the handle. Locked…

“What the hell…? I didn’t lock this this,” I say aloud. Confused, I reach my paw down to unlock the door, only to find the lock must’ve been ripped off. I couldn’t open the door… “What the f-“

“That was quite the cry fest, wussy. It’s a shame the police had to interrupt our fun so soon.