I was locked in that suffocating cell for over an hour, maybe more. The air was thick, the walls damp with neglect. The heat felt like the breath of hell itself, clinging to my skin, making it hard to even think straight. The place stank of old sweat, rusted iron, and hopelessness. It was nothing short of inhumane. What such a terrible situation is this?
I kept telling myself over and over in a tone, "I don't know anything about how Kylan Everest got missing." Even through any hard torment, even through the twisted games they played to get me to talk, I would refuse to say something I didn't get involved in I wouldn't betray my truth no matter how badly they wanted it.
I had no idea if my parents had heard what had happened, if anyone had told them at all. And if they did know, I didn't even want to imagine the panic they would be in, the confusion they might be feeling. It broke something in me to think of them hearing this from someone else, not from me.
The weight of the arranged marriage still crushed my chest, how it went. I never imagined this just some days after the wedding. I was on the verge of breaking down, the tears hanging on the edge of my lashes, when a police officer appeared at the cell gate.
"Patrick Susanna," he barked loudly at my name, "Your attention is needed." Follow me now, he said in a hard voice.
The moment the gate creaked open, I rose and followed him, silent but trembling.
They drove me into another room darker than the cell. The shadows swallowed the corners of the space, and the single flickering bulb gave it the eerie feel of an interrogation dungeon. I spotted a hot iron plugged into the wall, its metal glowing faintly, and a female officer stood next to it in full uniform, her expression unreadable. Like an officer who is yet to be paid wages
She gestured for me to sit. I sat in fear.
"Patrick Susanna," she began, her tone strangely soft, "you're such a beautiful young woman. Why don't you just tell us the truth about where Kylan Everest is? Just confess, and we'll let you go. No court will be involved, no pain." Just the truth and go back home.
Her voice was sweet, almost exactly like that of my Mum, but I could see the steel beneath it.
I stared at her, stunned into silence. When I finally found my voice, I said, "I didn't take him. I never would. He's my husband. We were just married two days before he went missing. I love him. I would never hurt him."
Her demeanor changed in an instant.
"How am I supposed to believe that?" she snapped, her voice sharp and thunderous.
"Who do you think might've taken him? Who was the last person he spoke to about business?"
Her questions came rapid fire, harsh, like she wanted to wear me down. I was in tears.
But I had no reasonable answers. I barely knew Kylan Everest very well-our marriage was still new, unfamiliar. I didn't know the intricacies of his business deals, or the people who walked in and out of his life recently. I felt smaller, like a stranger in my own story.
She didn't care about that. To her, I was the only person close enough to know about his steps.
"You're the only one we can trace to his disappearance," she said coldly. Either you speak now or you'll face the consequences. We don't take this lightly.
Before she let me go, her voice dropped into something almost sinister.
"By tomorrow, if you're still holding back to confess, I'll treat you worse than you can imagine."
Then she motioned to a junior officer, who silently took me back to my cell.
I cried quietly throughout the night. My hand rested on my cheek, where a tear had dried without anyone noticing. I knew they couldn't legally hurt me not without a trial, but their threats lingered, heavy in my chest. I felt powerless. Alone. The hours crawled by as I lay awake, tormented by guilt and fear I didn't deserve.
By morning, my parents were Mr. and Mrs. Patrick was finally allowed to see me. The moment my mother laid eyes on me, her face contorted with pain and confusion. She thought I was at fault.
"How could you do this?" she asked, her voice cracking. "How could you kidnap your own husband?"
I shook my head, immediately desperate for her to believe me. I told them everything that had happened and how the marriage was going, everything that hadn't. I watched as their anger turned to quiet sorrow. They didn't have words to say, and I didn't have the strength to explain better.
Then a voice interrupted from behind.
"Madam Patrick Susanna, your time is up."
The officer didn't care about family or innocence. He took me away at a rough speed, leaving behind two heartbroken parents, watching their daughter being dragged deeper into something she didn't do.
Back in the cell, I wondered who had taken Kylan Everest. Was he alive? Was he suffering? And why me? Why was I the one left to carry this unbearable burden?
And yet, a part of me knew I was the last person who saw him but…... We had shared a bed the night he went missing. Who else would they blame? I ask myself as if I'm who got him missing.
Later, I was called back to the same darker room. It's now for another round of questioning. This time, it was a male officer. His tone was biting, his voice a weapon. He asked the same questions as before, just louder, crueler. But I stood my ground standing firmly. I refused to confess to something I didn't do.
"Since you refuse to speak the truth," he shouted, "you'll be taken to court tomorrow.'' You'll face judgment, and the penalty for kidnapping without being ready to release is death or life in prison. That's the law here."
I knew that. Everyone else did. The stakes weren't just high, they were final. And I was scared and weak.
At dawn, some police officers came to pack us from the cell, a large van packed right in front of us. There were 14 of us. Some trembling, some resigned, some still clinging to hope. We were driven straight to court for our fates to be decided. One after the other, they were called: some sentenced to death, some to prison, others to pay hefty fines.
Then my name was called. It was my turn.
My heart pounded as I stepped forward, my fate hanging in the balance.
Would I suffer for what I didn't do?