|Will Her Eyes 2|
|Series Name||Will Her Eyes|
|← Will Her Eyes 1 - Will Her Eyes 3 →|
let it out and lean into the intercom microphone. "Ms. Schaffer, are you aware of how many people have asked to interview me in the last eight months?"
"I am. I also know that you can't avoid the press forever. Your husband is an international household name. If you don't speak your truth, someone else will speak it for you."
"Someone else already has."
"All the more reason to let the public hear your side of the story."
I pause a moment, rubbing my temples. All of this will only get worse once the baby is born. I imagine the white vans with bold news station decals on the sides swarming the hospital, surrounded by reporters and cameramen and the audience that inevitably accrues wherever news seems to be occuring. I imagine the stories they will continue to concoct as long as I don't provide them myself, the slander and lies they will spread about my family. I consider these things, then press down on the speak button one more, "I guess it's your lucky day, Ms. Schaffer."
As usual, the precinct is near-empty when I arrive. All of the beat cops and detectives are patrolling, and most of the paper pushers have already gone home. The hustle and bustle won't pick up for another hour or two. I wave a greeting at the dispatchers as I walk by their small office and make my way to the locker rooms.
"Morning Reed," I say to the only man in the room as I walk in. He wears a towel and his mousy hair is still damp and tousled from his shower. His skin and eyes glow the soft green of a Sennin.
"You getting on or off?"
"Off. Just worked a double and I'm ready to sleep for twelve or so hours. Been a busy one." He opens his locker and pulls out a grey t-shirt, which he yanks over his head. "How's your wife doing?"
"She's...alright. We had a bit of a scare a few days ago. Braxton Hicks."
Reed's hand hesitates in his locker and he opens his mouth, then closes it and shakes his head.
"What?" I ask.
"You sure, man?"
He hesitates again, then pulls his arm out of his locker and turns to me. "It's just... I don't know what you expected. You married a Blandie and planted your seed in her, and you expect her to be okay?"
"What did you just call my wife?" I feel heat rise in my chest and my hands have become fists at my side.
"No offense, man. I just think it's a shame that your kids might not be Sennin. What a waste of your power, especially when there are already so few of us." He shakes his head, then goes back to rummaging in his locker.
It takes no more than two seconds before I have him pinned against the bank of lockers, my forearm pressing against his windpipe. "Don't you ever use that disgusting word around me again. This isn't the fucking Third Reich." I press in on his throat, my nose a mere inch from his own, and linger there a moment before letting go.
I need to cool off. I head for the door, but turn around as I reach it to see him slumped on the metal bench, clutching his throat.
"Another thing. Mind your own damn business about my life and my family." I leave him to rub his sore skin and wait for bruises. I shout to the dispatchers on my way out, "Sorry, need to take a sick day."
Wendy, as she insists I call her, is a petite woman with greying brown hair and a beaklike nose. She is perched on the edge of an armchair in the middle of my living room, surrounded by cameramen, set dressers, and makeup artists. Her posture is annoyingly perfect. One of the cameramen is meddling with the aperture of a camera pointed at my face.
"Just relax, Sera." She smiles and motions to a makeup artist
|Sennin||Series||Jaime Tweets: 2 | 3 | 4 – MB: Mary – Moncada: Letter to Wife | Obituary – Mori Runes: 1 | 2 – Survivor: 2 – Triya: 5 ||
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