A Map to Nowhere
682 Words
John Nishpor was in prison, waiting for a verdict that could either clear his name or condemn him. But what exactly were they accusing him of? If everything was based on mere suspicion, did they even have anything solid? Evidence, proof, witnesses? John didn’t know, but he remained strangely calm. He lay on the cell cot, his arms crossed over his chest with his fingers intertwined. His eyes were closed, looking as peaceful as someone admiring a paradise from a hammock on a quiet beach. He was serene, whistling and humming his favorite tunes while he waited. An interrogation or a trial? Which would come first? What would happen in the next few moments?
Certainly, these were questions that any inmate would ask themselves, but he wasn’t interested in the answers. Why would he care? Was it avoidable? No. If one thing was clear to him, it was that he had to face whatever came next with attitude, courage, and sanity. Wow, it looks like the government got angry, he thought, smiling to himself.
"How far are they going to go?" he muttered in a low voice. "I have done exactly what they told me to."
He said it with the clear intention of being heard. After all, was there really someone watching him?
In the control room, the officers questioned the prosecutor.
"Should we take him to the interrogation room?"
"Yes, we will," Prosecutor Nilow replied. "Has he called his lawyer yet?"
"He hasn’t called anyone, sir. Not even a family member."
"He has no family," the prosecutor said under his breath. "Interesting. Show me the camera, let's go."
They all walked toward the room surrounded by screens. Immediately after entering, they saw the image of John, completely unbothered, whistling in his cell.
"Aren't we confident..." the prosecutor muttered, and the officers chuckled. "You’ll soon see what destiny has in store for you."
Prosecutor Nilow left the room, and the officers quickly followed him.
"Sir, what are we doing with him today?"
"We will interrogate him tomorrow. Today, let him reflect. Maybe it will give him time to call his lawyer... or his mother. Goodbye," the prosecutor said and walked away.
The officers were left utterly confused.
"So, what did that kid actually do?" asked a guard who had been lost since the beginning.
"He's rich, and nobody knows why," another commented with a laugh.
"That answer just left me even more confused," the first officer grumbled.
Shortly after, the guard went to the vending machine, grabbed a juice and some oatmeal cookies, and headed to John's cell. He slid the snack under the bars. Seeing the food on the floor, John let out a low chuckle.
"I’m on a diet," John joked.
"That's exactly why I got you oatmeal," the officer replied, laughing. "By the way, I'm Luke."
"A pleasure, Luke," John responded, picking up the cookies and juice from the floor and starting to eat.
Luke watched him through the bars for a moment. "Why are you here? What did you do?"
"I don't know. Do you?" John threw the question right back at him.
Officer Luke burst out laughing. "You’re a real comedy act. Rumor has it no one knows where your wealth comes from."
"Because I work," John replied in a serious tone, chewing on a cookie.
"Whatever you say. It was a pleasure. Maybe one day you can share some of that wealth with me," Luke teased before walking away.
John continued eating peacefully. When he finished, he settled down and fell fast asleep. From the screens, Officer Luke watched him, unable to comprehend how someone guilty could sleep with such absolute peace, without a single thought about the fate that awaited him. He stared at the monitor, completely baffled, like someone trying to decipher a map to nowhere.
The next morning, the harsh clang of the cell door swinging open woke John instantly. The real game was about to begin.
- Writer
