A Perfect Stitch

Chapter 63 | convincing the officers

I was dying of extreme anxiety as we waited for the security officer's response.

It kept stretching throughout the collective silence.

I was trapped in my thoughts.

My desperation was growing.

I could feel it blossoming in my chest.

It coursed through my veins, slowly pulsating in all the wrong parts of my body, while a throbbing nerve popped on my forehead.

I had to watch that footage at all costs.

No matter the officer's response, I won't back out.

My mind was made up.

This was a ride-or-die situation.

Nothing could stop me from accessing that footage, not even the guards.

The security officers exchanged skeptical glances before the stern man spoke up.

"Has she obtained written permission?"

Dang it!

Why would he ask that question at such a critical moment?

What was my offense?

Who had I offended for goodness sake?

Everything was working against me.

"She hasn't," the receptionist replied while nodding, her face being the most natural expression of ease and tranquility. "Can't you make an exception for her?"

"No," he was quick to retort, his voice very bold with bitterness and obvious judgment. "I'm sorry, but we can't just let anyone waltz in here and watch our security footage. There are protocols in place, you know."

His questioning eyes took in my composure, a devilish grin parting his cheeks.

I rolled my eyes at him and frowned at the coffee stain on his white beard.

Was he a pervert?

The one with a name tag, Officer Thompson, leaned back in his chair, crossing his arms and taking a sip of black coffee.

"Mrs. Johnson, is that how you want things to work? Is that how things are done around here? Aren't you biased? Don't you know that we take the privacy of our guests very seriously? We can't just grant access to anyone who asks."

She went silent, her arms crossed over her chest in annoyance.

Mrs. Johnson was restless, eyeing them with disgust as she surveyed the area.

At least, she had tried her best to help me, though it didn't work.

I was more than pleased with her chivalrous display of concern.

She was that motherly figure everyone would look up to for assistance.

I couldn't stop myself from fidgeting with my fingers, rubbing them against each other with shame and guilt, doubts creeping into the depths of my gut.

I couldn't help it.

I nibbled my nails, all eyes shifting to look at me.

Though I had not bothered to find out about the hotel's protocol for viewing their security footage, I understood the need for security measures.

After all, they were right.

Who was I to seek to view the hotel's security footage without permission?

Taking a deep breath, I mustered all my courage.

"I fully understand and respect that you can't just grant access to anyone who asks," I countered, my eyes pleading with all the sorrow in this world. "But this is a personal matter. I need to find closure. Please, just give me a chance."

The other security officer, a slightly younger man, leaned against the wall.

His arms were crossed as he raised an eyebrow. "And why should we trust you? How do we know you're not trying to pull a fast one on us?"

I met his skeptical gaze, my voice steady. "I have no ulterior motives. I just need to know the truth. If you let me view the footage and I find nothing, I promise I'll leave and never bother you again."

The previously stern man grunted, clearly unimpressed. "And what if we find evidence of wrongdoing? What then?"

Like a short circuit, a lot went through my mind.

It traversed my spine like a double-edged sword.

I couldn't blink as my brain processed the multiple possibilities.

In a fraction of a second, more than twenty thousand scenarios played before my eyes, each one was unique to its delicacy.

What if the footage proved something different from what Dwain had said?

My heart sank at the thought, but I refused to back down. "If that's the case, I'll deal with it privately. I won't cause any trouble for the hotel or anyone else."

Another security officer chimed in, Officer Ramirez, his tone slightly softer. "Look, ma'am, we have rules to follow. If we start bending them for every guest who asks, chaos will ensue."

He was right, very right even, yet he had to hear me out first.

"I'm not asking you to bend the rules," I insisted. "I'm simply asking for your understanding and empathy. I need to put my mind at ease, to find peace within myself. Isn't that worth something?"

Officer Thompson sighed, his stern expression softening just a fraction.

"Alright, ma'am, we'll hear you out, that's only if you convince us. But make it quick."

There was a glimmer of hope.

The once-dark tunnel seemed to brighten.

I had to tread carefully, to appeal to their sense of duty while conveying my desperation.

"I understand the importance of privacy," I began, my voice earnest and whole, like I was giving a press conference. "But consider this: if it were your loved one, wouldn't you want to know the truth? Wouldn't you want closure, no matter how painful it may be?"

Officer Ramirez exchanged a glance with Officer Thompson, a flicker of understanding passing between them.

"We're just doing our job, ma'am," Officer Ramirez said quietly. "We must protect the privacy of our guests."

"I appreciate that," I replied, my voice filled with gratitude. "And I'm not asking you to compromise your duty. I'm just asking for a chance to find closure within myself, to move on."

The room fell silent as the security officers exchanged glances once more.

Moments passed like an eternity, the weight of their skepticism pressing down on me.

Then, unexpectedly, the stern man spoke again, his voice softer this time.

"Fine, we'll let you view the footage. But remember, no funny business."

I nodded gratefully, my eyes misty with appreciation. "Thank you. I promise you won't regret this."