Conflicted

Katelyn King

I paced back and forth inside the interrogation room. I was anxious with the idea of driving to the precinct, I was definitely scared to offer to go in with Peyton, but I couldn't leave her to do it alone. Police stations and I don't mix. The first time I ever sat in one was when my mother died. The second was when they found the man who did it, my own father. The most recent time was when I got arrested. I spent six months behind bars, my lowest point in life. I'm a King by blood. Literally, my legal name is Katelyn King. My dad is the notoriously untouchable leader of the Kingsmen. When your mom dies at the hands of your father and your father is head of the most feared and successful gang in the entire East coast of the country, you aren't really expected to become anything more than a criminal. When I got out a year ago, I set myself straight. I didn't want to be anything like my biological father. He took my mother from me at the age of six leaving me to live with my aunt who hated him for what he did and grieved the loss of her only sister. My whole life I'd refused to even admit Christian King was my father. Going to jail made me feel like I was doomed to follow in his footsteps and I refused to allow that. So, after serving my time, I straightened out. I learned to fight and to protect myself not only from my father and his men, but also from their countless enemies. I made sure to teach other women how to defend themselves too. I wanted to be a positive influence in people's lives, I wanted to empower others. My aunt and I are well off, financially. My father never gave up on us, despite all that he has put us through. He has police on his payroll. He is a very scary, rich man. A man who can get away with murder, even if it's his own family. Every two weeks since I was six, both me and Aunt Em get five thousand dollars deposited into our bank account. In the beginning, Aunt Em refused to accept it or spend it, but it was pointless. He kept sending us the money. He never reached out to us, but he kept us fed and made sure we had a roof over our heads. I'm the only family Aunt Em has left in the world. She and my mother were orphaned as teens when their parents died in a car accident. Aunt Em was the oldest, and she took care of my mother until she met my dad. The rest is history.

Needless to say, a King and a police station is never a good thing. Cops that aren't directly on my father's payroll are working under someone who is, and that causes friction. There's a reason I only got six months of incarceration, I deserved much more.

A knock on the door is heard before it opens. I stop pacing and face the person entering.

"Katelyn King, your friend has made a statement, you're both free to go. The boy stays with us," the male officer is looking at me in disgust, evidently, he knows I'm Christian King's daughter and is unhappy about it. Me too, buddy, me too.

"How long are you keeping him here?" I ask.

He looks unimpressed that I'm asking questions. 'We're handling him from here, this is an ongoing investigation and I cannot discuss the details of it with members of the community, regardless of their social status," I can tell it's taking a lot from him to not sneer at me and tell me to go f**k myself. I can take a hint.

"If I'm free to go, can you show me to her please? I need to bring her home," I state as respectfully as I can, admiring the guy for his obvious dislike for me. I can respect any police officer that has not been corrupted by my father's bribes.

"This way," he turns and walks out the door, not waiting for me to follow so much as expecting me to catch up. I run to the door and pop it open, turning my head in each direction until I see him waking away from me down the hall to my left, the same way I entered the building from. I jog to catch up to him as we round the corner into the main reception area. Immediately my eyes land on Peyton. I rush to her at the same time as she does and we land in a crushing embrace. Tears have dried onto her cheeks and I feel the relief flood over us as we are reunited. To everyone else, we just look like two friends reeling from a traumatic experience, but to me it feels like so much more.

"Come with me, I'll take you home," I whisper into her hair as I untangle myself from her arms and take her hand in mine. I don't ever want to let her go. Together we exit the police station.