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The Bosky Invasion (Completed)

Jean Evans is just an ordinary working girl. Or so she strives to be. As a criminal in hiding, she has to keep her head down and be prepared to go on the run at any moment. When the neighbouring nation invades her city, suddenly her dreams of an ordinary, relatively unnoticed life goes awry. She doesn't want to be noticed, but someone has. And now that she's been noticed, she has become bait, a tool used by both sides of the war in an effort to control the man she once thought could be a dream boyfriend. The man who had turned into an enemy in the midst of her daydream. Can Jean rise to the occasion and show the strength of her abilities or will she be crushed when events set her back over and over again? How many times can a girl be crushed before she gives up? --- Author's note: This story is relatively depressing and many of the themes are for more mature audiences. I wouldn't call it a romance story. More a slippery slope of distasteful greys sliding into darkness. This is a work of fiction based upon a dream. No characters, settings or events are based on any real life people, environments or events. In the event anything resembles something in real life, it is an accident.

Tonukurio · Urban
Not enough ratings
137 Chs

Eleven: Accusations

Boss turned to look out the window and Eleanor didn't seem to know where to look. My other colleagues looked at me through the corners of their eyes. I looked at where I was still dripping puddles in the carpet. All of the others looked a lot better off than I felt I did.

"So, uh," Katja elbowed me and said cautiously, "you're not really - you know…" her voice trailed off.

"You didn't help the Boskies or anything did you?" Priscilla accused me outright with her hands on her hips. "You aren't a Bosky yourself or a spy or a traitor or anything, right? We all saw your name was the only one being flagged."

"It might have been flagged for other reasons," I tried to reason, thinking of how I broke the internet that year. "It doesn't mean that I'm a traitor or spy, because I'm not. Honest. You all know me."

"Who was the champion of last Christmas party's game of charades? Who won the poker game two years in a row? Besides, you're the only one of us that looks utterly miserable. I reckon it's a case of overkill. You tried to make yourself look bad but you've gone and overdone it. All of us were stuck on this side of the city last night and didn't make it home, but you're the only one that looks like you were dragged out of a shipwreck," Priscilla continued. "Tell us. What other reasons might the government have to mark you as suspicious?"

"I don't know," I raised my hands. "I was in Heartly Train Station when the Boskies took over. Maybe that's what made me suspicious. They might just want to hear my testimony."

"What were you at the train station for?" Katja asked, raising her head. Her sharp eyes looked deep into my watery ones. "You don't need the train to go home."

"I went to pick up my brother," I cleared my throat, willing myself not to cry under the interrogation of my friends. "He was coming back from uni."

"And where's your brother now?" Priscilla pointed a finger at me.

"He managed to make it across the train tracks but I got blocked by the Bosky soldiers," I replied, suppressing my emotions but failing to prevent them from leaking out. "I missed it by a few seconds. Otherwise I'd be locked up at home by now in an area under Bosky occupation. I have no way to contact anyone at home. As far as I know, the internet is spotty, all mobile phone providers are still down and the landlines have been disconnected. There's no way for me to check he got home safe and that my parents are safe or to reassure them that I'm fine. I got chased by Bosky soldiers in the rain for half the night. I spent the other half in wet clothes in an emergency shelter that had broken ventilation and heating. Is that enough reason for why I look so miserable? Happy now?" I spat, unable to control the rising fire in my chest and prevent my voice from rising into a higher register as my throat tightened. "I'm sure I'm not the only one who tried to get home across the train tracks last night to at least be with my family or make sure they're safe. You gonna start suspecting everyone else here too?"

"You know, you don't talk much," Priscilla sniffed, "but when you do, you're full of crap. You've always been a suspicious and secretive person. What are you so desperate to hide?"

"Priscilla, that's enough," Eleanor said in a firm voice.

"I believe you, Jean," Katja said, stepping closer to me and holding my wrinkly, waterlogged hand. "I don't think you're a spy or a traitor. There must have been a misunderstanding somewhere."

"I believe Jean too," said Eleanor.

"In times like this," Boss turned to look each of us in the eyes, "we all need to stand together. Not point fingers at each other. Remember, our judicial system is built on the law of 'innocent until proven guilty'. I'm sure Jean is telling the truth. If and when everyone is allowed to return to work again, the others might see you all as suspicious. What we all saw and know about each other's private circumstances should remain private. None of you are to discuss the flag we saw go up at Jean's name with any of the others. Understood? It would be a breach of privacy and confidentiality. I don't think any of us were meant to see the screen through the reflection. If I hear or find out anyone has been spreading rumours, I'll terminate that person's contract. Do you all understand how serious I'm being here?"

"Yes, sir," we all mumbled, looking in different directions.

I gave Boss and Eleanor an attempt at a thankful smile. How successful the smile was, I wasn't sure. They didn't react.

"Actually," said Priscilla, heaving a big sigh that lifted her shoulders up to her ears, "I believe you too, Jean. I'm sorry. I lost my head a bit with all the panic and stress, and it all sort of just - came out. I'm really sorry. I didn't mean to accuse you like that."

"That's all right," I said, not looking at her. "I can understand why you'd react like that. I was shocked too. I even doubted myself for a moment there and wondered if I'd done something I wasn't aware of. Like maybe I'd sleepwalked or something?"

That made people laugh and eased the tension.

"Come to the bathroom, Jean," Katja and Eleanor pulled me, pinching my shirt sleeve. "You're soaked."

"Been like this all night," I replied glumly, following them into the toilets. "Couldn't get dry."

"Great balls of thunder, I hope you don't catch a cold," Eleanor said. "Do you have any spare clothes here?"

"Just my dirty gym clothes and a pair of flats," I said, shivering.

"Better than nothing," Eleanor told me. "Better than staying wet."

"I'll get your gym stuff," Katja said.

Awkward. So awkward. But that's how it's meant to be. Because life is just full of awkwardness.

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