I have a camera in the basement so I’ve been keeping an eye on the interrogation. It went better than I thought it would, although at one point I started spamming Ash, because Brandon said that he saw proof that the hero I’ve been fighting for years is dead.

  “How do you fit in this uncomfortable thing?” Ash asks from the doorway.

  Once I’ve recovered from the initial shock of her appearing, I turn over from my desk and receive another shock. Ash is stripping and I’m staring. I can’t stop. Her body is like a work of art.

  She notices me staring, strikes a pose and asks, “Enjoying the show?”

  I manage to look away. “Sorry, I didn’t mean-”

  “It’s fine.” Ash brushes it off. “I mean I am the one that got naked in your house. Without warning. I know some guys that would do a lot more than stare.”

  “I um…” I have no idea how to respond to that.

  She walks over and leans over my shoulder to see what I’m looking at. I’m currently doing a little research on the boy in the basement.

  “He telling the truth?” Ash asks.

  “I-I-” Her chest is touching me!

  “What?” She looks down and then laughs before pulling away. “You’re cute.”

  I look down and mutter something like, “Sorry.”

  She laughs again and pats my head. “You’re very cute, but try to get your head back in the game so we can resolve this.”

  I just nod instead of saying anything.

  “So what’d you find on Mr. Brandon Leafton?”

  “Nothing yet.”

  “Makes sense.”

  “Huh? How does that make sense?”

  “Something really bad must have happened to make him decide to take over the world. He probably doesn’t want us to figure out whatever that is so we’ll treat him like a threat instead of a victim.”

  “What would make someone turn into a villain?” I have a few ideas, but I’m curious what Ash will answer with.

  She stares at me, trying to determine if I'm being serious or not.“I don’t know, you’re the villain; what made you?”

  Not the response I was expecting. It’s not one I was prepared for either. While trying to think of a response, Ash provides one.

  “Didn’t your mother die when you were about the same age he is?”

  “Yeah.” I was nineteen when my mother passed on. In a single moment, all the responsibility in the world was placed on my shoulders. I had to maintain the business, plan a funeral, deal with the press, and deal with the police investigation of her death.

  That moment.

  The anniversary of the bombing.

  A case of content theft: this narrative is not rightfully on Amazon; if you spot it, report the violation.

  We were both home.

  I was in my room.

  I heard a,

  THUD.

  I went upstairs and there she was, trapped under a bookcase.

  There was so much blood; it was pooling on the floor, drenching a letter with my name written on it, in her hair, over her broken face-

  “Jackie?” Ash says gently with a hand to my shoulder.

  I shake my head and push that day to the back of my mind. “I’m fine.”

  “Liar.” She doesn’t say it like an accusation, more with the kind of concern you hear in the voice of someone when you reveal the worst thing that’s ever happened to you.

  “I’m fine.” The words are meant to reassure both of us, but I don’t feel any better.

  “Want to talk about it…?”

  The last time I truly talked to someone about anything like this was Avery, they used it to hurt me.

  “There’s no time.” I turn my attention back to the computer. “There is no record of anyone matching his description with the name Brandon Leafton.”

  “Yeah, that makes sense.”

  “Huh?”

  “If you were that kid, trapped in a supervillain's basement, would you tell her your real name?”

  “Yeah, but what if it’s for some other reason? He could be lying because he really did kill Naturalist and is scared now.”

  “I’ve done this a bazillion times so I think I know when someone is hiding something.”

  “You’ve interrogated a lot of people?” I’m surprised. I just brought her in because she talks to people a lot more than I do.

  “Kinda, I mean, it is a big part of my job.” I must look confused because she goes on to explain: “Remember when I first approached you? I used a similar tactic with you that I used down there.”

  “Oh.” That hurts a little. I thought she liked me, you know, as a person. Guess she was just trying to use me.

  “My interrogation strategies didn’t really work on you though.”

  I look up at her before deciding she’s only saying that to make me trust her.

  “I was in the middle of my routine when you apologized! It completely threw me off. When you changed your attitude after that, it threw me off even more. Because of you, I had to change my plan on the spot. That hasn't happened to me in a long time.”

  I want to know more about this, but at the same time I don’t. I want to know how she’s using me so I can stop her, but if she tells the truth I have to face the fact that the first person in years to know my secrets is using me.

  I look back to my computer. “I’m looking into a couple of potential people that might have told him to come here. So far, I’m mainly looking into the big groups Naturalist has taken down.”

  “Any of them look like they did it?”

  “I’m not sure. I’m just starting. And I have to make a list of all the groups with the motive and the resources to do this before I can eliminate candidates.”

  “How’s that going?”

  “I’ve already got seventeen.”

  “Oof. Looks like we have a lot of work to do.”

  “Not ‘we’, ‘me’.”

  “Don’t be like that. I’m already here, so I’m gonna help.”

  “It’s fine. I’ve already bothered you enough. You can leave.”

  “Come on. You have no idea what you’re doing; I can’t just leave you.”

  ‘You need me,’... words from the past.

  “Get out.” I don’t-can’t need anyone.

  “I already said no.”

  I stand up and grab her shoulder, snatch her clothes off the floor, and start leading her out. “Thank you for your help so far, but you are leaving now.”

  “Hey! That hurts, loosen up your grip.”

  I try to do so, but with half of me stuck in a horrible memory it's hard.

  “Why are you being so hostile?” She starts struggling a little. “What’d I say?”

  ‘You can’t live without me,’ the memory sneers.

  I bristle again as I reach the front door and swing it open. “Goodbye,” I say as I shove her out. “Thank you for your help, and have a nice day.” I slam the door shut after shoving the clothes in her arms.

  ‘You really think you can do everything alone? Ha! You’ve never had to do anything for yourself.’

  It's just a memory I repeat to myself while trying to ignore the awful words said by someone I once loved.