A God's Last Death

Unsuccessfully Evading Responsibility

"You want me to do what?" I stare at them with my mouth wide open. They must be kidding me. Tell me they're kidding me. 

"She's right, Andrew. You're the only one who can," Noah tries to step in.

Which doesn't help at all. It's easy for him to say that when I'll be the one sacrificing so much for this case. Do they seriously want me to spend my last months in life babysitting a criminal? I look around the captain's office, the comfy chair, the plush and clearly expensive carpet under my feet, the medals displayed in every possible corner of the room. She has obviously forgotten how things are for anyone inferior in the building.

"Are you going to defy my orders?" the captain folds her arms in front of her chest, a gesture she makes every time she has already made her mind about something.

"You bet your ass I will!" The moment those words fall out of my mouth, I instantly regret them. I might not like them, but they're still my superiors. The captain narrows her eyes at me. "Sorry. It's just that...can't anyone else do it?" I say leaning against the doorframe of her office.

"This job is critical. We can't trust anyone else to do it, and besides you'll take up the case," she replies.

"Why don't we give the case to another division?"

"You know that's not an option. It might end up in the wrong hands."

"So, let me get this straight. You want me to team up with him and infiltrate their gang." I am mystified by the fact that they can't see how ludicrous their plan sounds.  

"Precisely," Noah gives me a smirk, and I can barely stop myself from punching him.

"Oh, come on! That guy is obviously a fraud! I don't understand why we even waste our time on him."

"He might by lying, but he's the only lead we've had for months. Tell me, have you made any progress on your own?" I open my mouth to speak, but he cuts me off. "No, you haven't. So, stop complaining and pull your shit together!"

His words come to slap me in the face, or rather the bitter reality of them. At last, I must put my pride aside and admit he is right. For almost a year now I've been searching in the blind, only to hit a wall and realise I've been hunting a ghost all along. I bite my tongue and refrain from arguing when I already know the decision is final.

"Copy that, sir. I'll get my stuff ready," I finally say. Not wanting to commit any murder, I turn around and start walking back to the interrogation room, and I swear I can hear laughter rumble down the hall. I grit my teeth and continue walking.

Once again, I feel like I have no control over my life. As if I'm counting down the days until I'm freed from this suffering. As if my body is a prison and my mind is waiting in there for its sentence. Who rules my life?