Trapped With A Killer

Chapter Sixteen

The next day Wheaton left for his conference, but before he did he pulled a little black camera out of his bag.

"It's a nanny cam," Wheaton explained. "It connects up to my phone so I can check it as often as I'd like. Isn't technology amazing?" He set it up facing the closet. I didn't like where this was going.

"Wheaton I won't try to run-" I started, but Wheaton interrupted.

"Get in the closet," he ordered. I stepped back.

"Please don't make me stay all day in there. I'll be good, I promise!" I begged, but Wheaton just sighed.

"Don't make me drag you into it. I'll be back for dinner tonight, so it's only for the day," Wheaton said, advancing on me. He gripped my shoulders, and I allowed him to lead me over to the small closet. I sat down on the floor and looked up as Wheaton closed the door, leaving only slits of light to illuminate my tiny prison. "Be good. I'll be watching."

Boredom doesn't begin to describe what it was like to spend hours in that closet. I picked at the carpet and tried to stretch my legs out, but it was too cramped.

All I had was silence and time to think.

***********

For a long time I thought that I would grow up to become a detective or an FBI agent. I idolized them, but as I neared the end of high school I realized that even the good ones were a part of a system that works against the poor and oppressed. I decided I didn't want to be a part of that system directly, but I still wanted to help people. I wanted to be there to make sure justice was served and the disadvantaged were protected. I'd always been an opinionated and argumentative person, and it honestly got me into a lot of trouble. Quinn was always telling me that I needed to pick my battles, but I couldn't help myself.

One day our junior year Grace Yoder called Quinn a fag, and I fucking lost it on her. I yelled and yanked on her fake blond hair. Then I was sent to the principal's office where I yelled some more. I got off with just detention, but I wouldn't have minded suspension. Sure, I wanted to get into a good college, but I wasn't going to sit by and watch my best friend get harassed by some floozy.

So, when my English teacher suggested I look into going into the law profession after I crushed my opponent in our mock debate, I started to consider it. Sure, it was a lot of work, but it would allow me to do what I was passionate about. I loved true crime and crime shows plenty, but I wanted to make something of my life. I wanted to contribute to the world in a meaningful way. Maybe that's why I went looking for the Tintail Killer in the first place. Of course, part of it was morbid curiosity, but I thought that maybe if I stopped him I would have done something good for the world. It was a stupid thought, and I was now painfully aware I had been way out of my depth.

Now all of that seemed so trivial because Wheaton would take what he wanted from me, regardless of what I wished for. So many things seemed not to matter anymore; grades, friends, money, all of it was useless to me now. Would I have lived differently if I'd known it was all going to be ripped away from me?

I was a good person. I wanted to help people. That's all I really desired. So why did this happen to me? How was any of this fair? What had I done to deserve this? Then my father's words came back to me, that searching for why bad things happened was pointless. There was no good answer. But at the same time, wasn't it all my fault? I had been the one to go searching for the killer, even if I never truly believed I'd find him. I had tempted fate, and now I had to pay the price. My dad was wrong, sometimes there are situations that you can't make the best out of. What good could come of my imprisoned life? Surely, if he had lived to see me like this, he would have agreed.