Chameleon_XX

I should have stayed in my lane and not try and stir shit up. But this was me, so no way in all of the realms of hell was I going to stay put and do what I was told to do. No, I liked a challenge, even more, I liked proving people wrong, without realizing what repercussions would occur in the process.

This time though, it was terrible, like really really bad. And here I thought to set the chapel on fire during mass was the worst I’ve done. No. I was lying to the police and more authorities at ones, and I was so deep in my net of lies, I forgot what I wanted to achieve by the end of it.

You probably think I am in high school, but I only wish I was. Then I could play the minor card and have my parents ground me. I had the bad luck of being a legal adult in every sense. At twenty-two, you were very responsible for your own decisions and choices. I was stuck in it deep.

“So, Miss Hampton, if you’d like to share who played you?”

“I played myself,” I said quite loudly. It was hard for me to believe in admitting it.

“Leave it to a boy to do you dirty like this, am I right?”

“It was a girl?” I said unsure. It was not a boy, and it was not a random girl. It was me. I put myself in this situation; I wish I knew what for and why. Oh yeah ... for that reason.

“A girl?” she slid her glasses down as if to check me out.

“Yeah,” I said shaking my head for emphasis, “me. I played me. It is all on me.”

“Is that what you and your little gang of friends agreed one once one of you got caught?” I just raised my shoulders and nervously laughed.

“You are in our custody, Miss Hampton might as well start singing while we’re playing nice.”

“You look like you’re about to do a psychic evaluation, not interrogate me.”

“I am to do both. Minds like yours are to be studied and used.”

“Right, because I managed to steal under your noses.” I laughed a little; it felt good to be able to rub it in.

“Because you got caught.”

“How is that supposed to make me feel better?”

“We both make our terms, and we see who can strike the better deal, you or the FBI.”

Great. I was about to be made an asset. Weirdest job interview ever.

“Why don’t you start from the begging, Miss Hampton.”

“Do I have to?” The look she gave me made it clear I was not going to be released until I shared everything. “So I stole information on my dad-”

“The beginning, Miss Hampton. The very beginning.”

I opened and closed my mouth in confusion. My legs were doing their nervous ticks, and I looked around.

“I was sperm in my dad’s sack-”

“Oh, for God’s sake Miss Hampton, cut the bullshit!” I defensively raised my hands above my head at the rise of her voice.

“You do realize this game is for two?” I told her and laughed with the corner of my mouth. “I know you have all types and kinds of information on my dad and me for that matter. The question is, as a fellow psychologist-”

“You are no psychologist, Miss Hampton.”

“Oh? Am I not? Is it because of the lack of diploma and proper education or because I execute things rather untraditionally?”

She sighed and put her notebook down. She removed her glasses as well and leaned back in her chair and gave me a studying look.

“I’ll tell you how we’re going to do it. I’ll tell you what you want to know about your dad, and you will tell me why you’re interested in a serial killer and rapist and how you managed to breach security and get a private session with him. Most importantly, you will tell me what he told you.”

“This doesn’t sound fair though. I get to tell you three different things and you only the nonexistent information on my dad you think you can bait me with?” I grunted. “It’s not fair” I repeated myself quietly and crossed my hands.

Harriette did the same and clicked her tongue. She was losing patience, but she was trying not to. Here is the deal: me and Hariette, we went a long way back. We were buddies or at least used to be. Now she was all formal and distant with me, but it was understandable. We both had covers to maintain, past to hide, better yet to kill.

It just happened that our roads met yet once again and now it was a crossroad, others were there too. And we had to make sure to play our cards right so that none of us got burnt in the process, but also get what we wanted.

“I don’t know Mrs. ...” I started and trailed indicating with my hand that I was waiting for her name, which I pretended I didn’t know.

“Randall. Harriette Randall.”

“So, Mrs. Randall let’s start with a favorite question of mine.” I leaned forward staring into her eyes through her glasses as she slid them back on. “Is a genius born or made?”

She smiled a small tiny smile across her lips which I knew all too well.

“Neither,” she said.

“How can you be so sure?”

She caught the change of tone in my voice. My answer to her response was not how I usually responded after asking this question. This was a new way of me conveying to her, that things have changed, and they have changed drastically.

I was changing the game at the very beginning. It was no longer the safe coded world we created for each other should we ever happen to be in those type of circumstances, and Harriette caught on it fast.

“How can you be so sure you know the correct answer miss Hampton?” She asked, again a default and safe question. She was still playing by the rule book, trying to reel me back into our little scripted world. Oh, Harriette, sweet little lovely Harriette. If you only knew.

I smiled at her and looked around my surroundings. Have you ever in your wildest dreams seen an interrogation room decorated as a psychologist’s office? The supposed window was, in fact, the infamous two-way mirror that let others observe you, without you seeing them. Sure I might have been brought in unconscious, but I was no idiot. I was well aware of the custody I was in. It was about time for me to get caught, but the fact that they were treating me like a child, trying to confuse me, to make me disoriented, to make me trust and believe the lies they were about to feed me, made me ecstatic. It was staged. And if they wanted a play, I was going to act as if I was aiming for the Oscars. I was going to give them one of my best performances. I smiled again, this time looking straight into the two-way mirror. I was looking into somebody’s eyes, I could feel it. My smile got bigger, showing teeth. A challenging gesture.

“Is the cute agent that brought me in on the other side of the glass?”

Harriette got uneasy and looked at the mirror herself. She slipped. Harriette was not as good as I was. The poor woman was going to get in trouble, and I wished I could play longer with her. I had other interests though.

“H-how?” She tried to compose herself by adjusting the loose scarf on her neck. It was fixed just fine though. “You must surely be mistaken, Miss Hampton. You were unconscious when you were brought to the hospital.”

“Oh, for God’s sake, Mrs. Randall, cut the bullshit!” I repeated with the same authoritative tone she had used earlier. Even my facial expression mimicked hers. She was shocked. I smiled again and fell back into my original demeanor. “Who’s fault was it in the first place that I came in unresponsive?”

Harriette swallowed, audible at that. I laughed.

“If you want me to sing,” I started looking at the mirror that was supposed to imitate a window, “you’re going to be the one whom I will sing to.”