Three years of hard work, gone in an instant. Three years of reaching out, building relationships, all while keeping an eye out for a new, undiscovered Personification, wasted. He was supposed to be the one smiling, the one giving knowing looks and dropping veiled hints all while relishing the utter failure of the others. In short, Misery was feeling much more in tune with his namesake than he had in a long time.

He’d been stuck in the small room, handcuffed to his chair which was in turn bolted to the floor, for some time now. There was no clock in the room and neither were there any windows, making it harder to keep track of time. The wall to his left had a large pane of one-way glass set into it, allowing him to be observed while preventing him from being able to see who all was on the other side.

The single door to the room clicked as the lock was disengaged and Trust walked in. He carried a small binder and a glass of water. As always, he had on the same, subtly disappointed look he always had whenever he met with Misery. It reminded Misery of the way parents looked whenever they contemplated a wayward child. He ground his teeth at that thought. What right did Trust have, or any of them for that matter, to dictate his actions?

Trust sat down in a chair opposite Misery, a small table between them, and positioned his binder and glass in front of himself, though he made no move to take a drink or to open the binder.

“What, no real cops could make it in today?” Misery huffed when the door lock clicked back into place. He’d half expected Trust to make an appearance here, but he’d at least thought that they’d send in a real interrogator to question him.

“Why don’t we talk about the events of last Tuesday?” Trust asked.

Misery tried to fold his arm, forgetting for a moment that he was shackled. When his chains pulled tight and he remembered his bonds he settled on rolling his eyes instead. This was a joke. A sick joke. Was Trust actually going to bother with this pantomime? He, like Misery, knew that all Misery had to do was wait for the next time he got called away to some miserable place and he’d be free. They could go through whatever motions they wanted, but in the end it wouldn’t matter.

“What do you want?” Misery demanded. “Should I say sorry? Promise it won’t happen again? Sign my name to some confession where I admit you were the smarter one and how inferior I am to you?”

“Right now,” Trust said in his infuriatingly calm way, “all I want is to hear about last Tuesday.”

“Yeah, and all I want is a cheeseburger and fries.”

Trust turned towards the one-way glass and asked, “Could we get a cheeseburger and fries, please?”

“What is this?!”

Trust turned his attention back to Misery and his eyes narrowed slightly.

“You’re a bright young man,” he stated. “And you know exactly what this is and why we’re here.”

“Really?” Misery scoffed. “You’re no cop. As far as I’m concerned, you have no right to be here, no business sitting there, asking me these questions. I don’t owe you anything, and there’s nothing you can offer me. So, if you think I have anything to say to you about Tuesday, or any other day, then you’re just wasting your time!”

Without taking his eyes off Misery, Trust opened the binder. It was difficult to see details but the revealed pages within looked like phone records.

“You’ve been quite active,” Trust said, still without looking down at the binder. “Even though most of the others expressed a desire to be left alone, and in fact never gave out their contact information to you, you found them nonetheless. Many of them didn’t even know you who you really were, at first. Now, you aren’t the first person who’s done that sort of thing, so when I heard you’d begun doing so I started keeping tabs on you.”

“You can’t just wire tap someone’s phone,” Misery objected. “I have rights!”

“Yes, you do,” Trust agreed, “but a private citizen, or a group of private citizens, can nonetheless report to anyone else when and how someone else has contacted them and what the subject of that communication was about.”

“You had them all reporting to you?” Misery was disgusted by this revelation. “You have them doing that for everyone on you’re supposed Undesirable’s list?”

Trust turned a few pages until he got past the phone records. The new pages showed photographs of Misery, taken as if by some sort of paparazzi. They showed Misery in various locations which, to someone unaware of their significance, wouldn’t see anything amiss. But Misery knew those places, knew the people he’d been photographed with.

“These are many of the people who were involved in last Tuesday’s events,” Trust spoke as though he needed to explain this fact. “Most are in custody now, several of which have been eager to share what they know in exchange for leniency from the court.”

“I was there, just like Secrets, just like Fear. I had nothing to do with it.”

Trust turned over a few more pages of photographs, many of them showing Misery with the others and in the very location where the aforementioned events took place. Misery always knew it had been a risk to go there but he had to make sure everything was set up correctly.

“Many of the others we’ve spoken to seem to be casting you in a rather more involved role.”

Misery was about to respond when he caught himself. Trust was reeling him in, getting him to talk, possibly to incriminate himself.

“I had nothing to do with it,” Misery said, regaining his composure and controlling his voice once again. “Whatever you think I was doing, regardless of who you happened to get photos of me with, whatever other people may be claiming about me, I didn’t do anything.”

“You didn’t know that your entire circle of acquaintances was secretly involved in a plot to capture, torture, and murder several others from within your community?” Trust didn’t even seem to be trying to hide his doubt.

“No,” Misery stated.

“And when you saw them Tuesday night you didn’t feel the need to report to the authorities that such actions had been committed by people whom you regularly associated with and could readily identify as the perpetrators of such atrocious actions?”

“Their faces were covered.”

“Were they?” Trust asked, one of his bushy eyebrows rising ever so slightly higher. “Everyone else, including Secrets and the young boy, seem to have seen plenty of uncovered faces that night.”

Misery just shrugged. He’d insisted that everyone wear a mask or a hood but so many had shown up without anything to hide their faces and it was too late to send them away or find another solution. He ground his teeth at that failure on his part. He should have gone out and just bought them all masks or something, but then that could have been another means of linking it all back to him anyway.

Trust turned over a few more pages until he came to a more recent set of photographs. These were of the real Dr Hess and his secretary. Both looked in rough shape, bruises on their faces and a few cuts here and there, but otherwise they seemed okay. Upon seeing these photos, Misery finally tensed up. Neither of them was supposed to be alive still. Then he remembered he still had the ultimate get-out-of-jail-free card and relaxed again.

“Dr Hess and Ms Serant have had a rough couple of days,” Trust explained, “but should recover in time. It seems you and Dr Hess had a mutual acquaintance who is under the impression that you had promised to pay him a good deal of money if he referred a certain young boy and his mother to Dr Hess for counseling, even though you had also paid him to kidnap and murder Dr Hess and Ms Serant. Fortunately for Dr Hess and Ms Serant, your common acquaintance wasn’t very good at that second task. He managed to beat them both unconscious and then leave them in the old building where he’d kept them. When the two of them came to, they made their way to the police to report the attack.”

“I thought you said it was Secrets who told you,” Misery said.

“Oh, she told me quite a bit,” Trust admitted, “but even she didn’t know the full details regarding Dr Hess. She thought you had simply made him up, not that you had paid to have him murdered.”

Silence fell between them as Trust knitted his fingers together and then set his wrists on the edge of the table. Misery fought the urge to glance over to the one-way glass. He knew he wouldn’t be able to see anything except for his reflection, but he hated the feeling of being watched. Misery hated the silence more and more with each second. What did Trust think was going to happen? Did he actually expect Misery to confess? He couldn’t be that deluded. And yet the seconds continued to stretch out, turning into minutes that felt like hours. He became suddenly aware of ever single itch or soreness he had on his body. He wanted to scratch, to shift his weight, to do anything besides sit still like this.

“You know they can’t hold me,” Misery proclaimed when he couldn’t take the silence any longer. “The minute I’m called away, poof, I’m out of here and gone and there’s nothing you or any of them,” he jerked his head towards the one-way glass, “can do about it!”

Misery sat there, triumph flooding through him, wishing he could be called away right then and there as if to prove his point. The only thing that ruined it for him, was the fact that Trust didn’t seem bothered in the slightest. In fact, he shook his head and even gave a slight smile.

“You know it’s been years since I was last taken to bear witness to any great expression of trust,” he said.

“You’re old,” Misery said with a dismissive shrug.

“Why should that matter?” Trust asked him. “Just because I’m old, does that mean no one in the world is allowed to trust?”

“No.”

“No, indeed. And did you know,” Trust went on, “that there have been other instances, other situations, that have led to Personifications no longer being called on to bear witness? The universe knows when we should and shouldn’t be called upon. Whether that reason is old age, poor health, or… other reasons.”

For the first time, Misery began to feel real fear. He’d never heard of anything besides old age as a reason for a Personification to be left alone from being sent to witness some event or other, but now that he thought of it, he’d never heard of a Personification imprisoned. He hadn’t been exactly close with many of the Personifications, but of those he knew the best, his fellow undesirables, none had ever done anything to be worthy of an extended jail sentence that could contest Trust’s claim.

Before Misery could respond, however, the door clicked once again and an officer walked in. In his hand he carried a small, brown, paper bag. Trust accepted the bag and the officer left.

“What’s that?” Misery asked, eager for a change in subject while simultaneously worried this may be more evidence against him.

Trust reached into the bag and withdrew a neatly wrapped cheeseburger, followed by some fries. He set them out on the table, just beyond Misery’s reach, and began unwrapping the cheeseburger. Misery watched as the old man took a bite, nodding his approval before trying a couple of the fries.

“Come on, Trust” Misery complained. “I asked for that and now you’re going to just sit there and eat it in front of me?”

“No, I asked for it, and they brought it to me,” Trust said between bites. “I haven’t had lunch yet, and when you mentioned the cheeseburger and fries I thought that sounded pretty good.”

“You’re a real piece of –

“I’m not the one,” Trust cut him off and for the first time there was real anger in his voice, “who convinced a dozen people to commit such horrible acts of violence in order to gain access to a child so you could kidnap him in order to exact pain and suffering on people whom you feel have insulted you for doing nothing more than protecting them against your manipulations and abusive behavior.”

“I will kill you,” Misery growled, no longer caring what he said or who heard him say it. All he wanted to do was tear into the old man who sat across from him, make him choke on the cheeseburger and fries. As it was, he had to settle for threats which he followed up with spitting onto Trust’s meal.

“I have no doubt that you would try to do just that,” Trust said, leaving the burger and fries alone now that Misery had spit on them. “And considering the fact that you would probably try to claim insanity before trial, declaring yourself as the Earthly Personification of Misery, and then have those claims backed up by your co-conspirators testimonies since you apparently had them all calling you Misery, I’m sure you’d get it. And then you wouldn’t be incarcerated, but instead placed in a mental institution which we’ve learned would still leave you open to be taken off to bear witness to the misery of the world which would, undoubtedly, set you free once again to pursue whatever revenge fantasies you can cook up.”

It took a moment for Misery to process what all Trust had said. He hadn’t yet considered claiming insanity, but now that Trust had said it, it did sound like a good case to make for himself. But something else caught his attention that nagged and bothered him.

“You said, ‘we’ve learned’ that a mental hospital wouldn’t prevent me from being called away,” Misery said. “Who’s we and how could you or anyone else test all this out? It’s not as if we’re common knowledge.”

“Most world governments aren’t so ignorant as you would assume,” Trust explained. “Certain of us Personifications get called into their meetings, treaty signings, debriefings, on a somewhat regular basis and after a while those people begin to notice.”

“And when they threw you in prison you found you couldn’t get called away?”

“The first time, yes,” Trust said, “but that was long before my time. These days, when one of us shows up they usually do their best to simply carry on as if we weren’t there and let us get on with witnessing. I don’t know of any of us who’s been imprisoned for any extended period of time. You’ll be the first in a long while.”

“But like you said,” Misery stated. “I’ll plea insanity and be free.”

Trust shook his head again and began wrapping back up the hamburger and fries.

“No, you see, there are contingencies in place for situations like this.”

“Oh really?”

“Really.”

“What’re they going to do? Execute me without a trial? Well guess what, they can’t do that! I have rights!”

“Amazing,” Trust murmured.

“What’s amazing?”

“How the people who so loudly and eagerly shout about their rights are often the least informed about what those rights are.”

Misery shifted in his seat. He knew his rights, but he didn’t like the way Trust was speaking, as though he knew something Misery didn’t.

“Well, go on,” Misery prompted when Trust didn’t elaborate further, “what is it I don’t know about my rights?”

“When a person is actively engaging in law-breaking, they surrender certain rights. That’s why people can be arrested, or in some cases killed by authorities. Similarly, when a situation is such that the regular course of due process, such as a trial and all of that is not reasonable, that process may be modified to adapt to the situation. In your case, this country has laws regarding Earthly Personifications who pose the sort of threat that you are posing.”

“Like what?”

“Well, you’ll still get your trial, but the judge and attorneys will all know who and what you are and the jury will be selected from among your peers.”

Trust let the final word hang in the air and Misery finally understood.

“No insanity plea will work there,” Trust said, closing his binder and wading up the paper bag.

Misery hung his head in defeat. He couldn’t recall exactly what he had or hadn’t said to Trust, but given the evidence Trust had already shown him, he didn’t have much hope of avoiding whatever consequences were before him.

“That’s why you’re here, then,” he muttered. “Why they let you in here.”

“I didn’t just coordinate information between the other Earthly Personifications,” Trust said, rising to his feet. “I also coordinated information between governments about those of us who were within their borders.”

“You’ve been a rat this whole time,” Misery accused.

“We all have our roles to play, Misery, but we also have our own choices to make. I chose to help, to keep us safe and prevent us from being killed off the moment one of us is discovered. Your choices…

Trust looked around at the small room and then down to the binder in his hands. Misery expected Trust to say more but instead the old man turned, walked to the door, it clicked, and he left. Only the glass of water was left behind, sitting on the table where Trust had first placed it, tantalizingly close and yet completely out of reach. Just like everything else in his life. Always so close, yet never quite in his grasp.