Guilty till proven innocent. That's the motto here, here in South America, well everywhere really, though no one is ever proven innocent. No one has the money, or the connections, well that is unless you have family in the Governing Agency. So as a thirteen year old girl convicted of murder there wasn't much I could do...

Please comment and tell me points to improve.

The story is fictional, and any relation to anyone dead or alive is completely unintentional.


3. Bump In The Road

We started to move away from the place I call 'home.' I could hear the stones rattling against the wheels and side of the car, as we drove the dirt track down the road. We were both, me and Bradley, sat in silence for at least five minutes, before I decided to speak;

"So." He glanced at me in the mirror, waiting for me to continue. "What made you want to become an IMS agent?" He ignored my question. I cleared my throat, to try and coax an answer of him. "Wow" I exclaimed. “That sounds interesting!" I continued, with more sarcasm. "Ahh, maybe it was because you like arresting innocent, little girls?" By this time I was starting to get worked up as there was still no answer. "Perhaps, the thrill of carrying a gun, with which you have every right to shoot." I could see his eyes widen. Then it hit me. "You never wanted to be an agent. Did you?" His hands gripped the steering wheel tighter. "I'm right. Aren't I." I could hear him, just, talking to himself, under his breath.

"Of course I did!" Bradley said abruptly.

"But you didn't. You were forced into it..." I stopped there as the car screeched to a stop. I knew where we were, I could tell by the drunken cheers and overwhelming smell of alcohol, we were by our local. The one that my dad and Delilah were regulars at, and the one they got wasted at almost every night.

"Why have we stopped? Did I wind you up that much?" I said mocking him.

Bradley took the key out of the ignition and got out the car. Before he completely shut the door he stuck his head in:

"They warned me about your powers of interrogation." He said half to me and half to himself. I was again puzzled.

"Powers of interrogation?" I said aloud. "Yeah, my amazing powers."

As soon as he'd shut the door he locked it. I almost laughed aloud, as I thought; As if I would try and escape. My mind then wandered thinking about my great escape. How I'd manage, where I'd go. I moved swiftly back to reality as I focused on what was happening only meters away, outside. The window was slightly ajar, leaving me with a welcome breeze across my face, and commentary of what was currently occurring. I heard Bradley breathing quickly and suddenly gasp as he ran. Then his voice shouting for help. I craned my neck to see what was going on. I could vaguely make out a body in the middle of the road, limp and lifeless like a leaf in the autumn, with Bradley next to it. A few people from the local stumbled out, to see what all the fuss was about. I could make out a few of them. A couple from the butchers, both with red noses, a pint glass in their hands and singing badly. I looked away, contemplating what may have happened, when suddenly a woman screamed, pierced the air.

"Call a doctor!" Bradley told the crowd which, from what I could see was growing rapidly. A familiar man emerged.

"Sir." It sounded like Nicholas Pereyra, my employer, from down the road. "Can you help her?" He asked Bradley. Bradley quickly shook his head, not as if he couldn't, but as if he didn't want to.

"I am no doctor and, nor do I have time." He got up swiftly, and as he attempted to make his way back to the car, his arm was grabbed by Nicholas.

"But you must!" Nicholas demanded. Bradley turned to face him.

"Like I said I'm not a doctor. Anyway, I'm not sure how much anyone can do for her. She may be gone." His voice sounded almost resentful towards Nicholas.

With that he turned away, and shoved Nicholas out of his way, to make him loosen his grasp. Gasps rippled around the crowd and again he was blocked by Nicholas.

"Surely if you know that much..." Nicholas paused. "Surely, if you know that, you can help her.

Bradley returned to the car, unmoved, and got in the driver’s seat and turned the ignition on.

"Is there any point asking what happened?" I asked, no sure whether I would get a reply. He took a breath.

"It was a female, possibly sixteen." I stared at him in the mirror waiting for more details. He didn't say anymore for a minute. He took another breath; "Long brown hair, tanned, quite pretty really. Not that you heard me say that." He smiled slightly, then frowned.

"What?" I asked, puzzled. "Nothing." He brushed my question away. "What's your problem with Nicholas?" I asked, adamant for and answer.

"It's a long story." Bradley replied shortly, hoping for no further questions. He was out of luck I wasn't stopping there.

"Well considering I have goodness knows how long to spend in a car, with nothing to do, I'm sure we have enough time!" I demanded.

"For your information my problem is not your problem!" He replied calmly.

"Well you know all about me so the kind thing to do would let me see what your hiding in your past." I thought that would be the logical thing to say, considering I doubted annoying him would help.

"I'm not a murder though am I. I wouldn't know anything about you if you weren't a murder." His words hit home, hard. I was tempted to yell back that he was the murderer. A cold blooded murder that had shot people, for no reason. I decided against this, I thought better not annoy him too much, he didn't seem like he was going to say anymore.

By this time we were driving away from the commotion, the road ahead looked so long and boring, the crowd were now just basic figures in the distance. With nothing to do I let my mind wander a little, back to when I was four, with my mum;

"Mummy why does the moon shine so bright?"

"Well you see Natalia. The moon is like a thief." I look at her ready to hear her explain.

"Like a thief?" I ask.

"Yes, a thief." I watch her closely as she sits me on her lap. "The moon is small compared to where we are." She looks at me to tell her where we were.

"Earth mummy, the earth!" She smiles at me.

"Well done, you're right." I grin from ear to ear, proud of myself, for getting it right.

"Well." She continues. "The moon doesn't like being so small, it wants to be big and important like the earth." I stop her, during mid-sentence.

"If the moon waits long enough won't it grow big, like me?" I ask. She laughs.

"No silly! The moon can't grow like you; it has to stay the size it is. Now, because of this it wants to make its self-get noticed by people like us on earth." She pauses to take a breath. "To do this the moon decides to shine, like a mirror."

"Oh!" As a four year old finding this out I was excited. "The moon, because it wants to shine, has to find some light. Can you tell me where from?" She asks me. I almost instantly point to the light on the ceiling. She shakes her head and smiles. "No it’s not the light it’s the sun! So what the moon does is steals light from the sun and uses it to make itself shine!" I remember my reaction as clear as if it was only yesterday. I remember laughing not believing her at first and then running off to play with Delilah.


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