➵ 'Deleted' Scene 3

L I A Cool air rushed in from the balcony and I shuddered for a moment, staring out at the blinding flashes of cameras outside. Bottle of rum in hand, I stumbled out onto the balcony, bare skin cold under my silken robe, feet freezing against the pavement. "He's dead!" I screamed, leaning over the rails. "He's dead! Screw off!" One reporter yelled back, his voice loud, "Give us some news!" There were cries of approval amongst the other journalists, and I held the bottle to my lips, drinking as much as I could in one draw before I set it down. Inside, somebody was knocking on my bedroom door, but I ignored it, ignited by foolish rage to proceed with what I was doing. "You want news?" I slipped out my robe, letting the red silk pool at my feet as I reached back to unhook my bra. Someone grabbed my arm and spun me around. Detective Parker's voice was soft. "That's enough." "They want news!" I cried shrilly. "I'll give it to them! I can see it now, 'Liana Mason flashes-" "I hardly doubt that having your breasts on the front page of every paper would do your future career any good." "Sure it will, they're excellent breasts." "You're drunk." I pulled my arm away from him and picked up my rum, taking another sip purely for the sake of challenging him. "Go on, arrest me." "When I arrest you, it won't be for drinking." Detective Parker pried the bottle from my trembling fingers, grabbed my robe off the ground with the same hand, locked one hand around my wrists, a little too roughly for my liking, and pulled me back inside, shutting the door to the balcony behind us. Setting the bottle beside my bed, he shook his head at me, but there was no judgment in his eyes. "Did Tonia let you in? If I didn't like her so much, she'd be fired, you know." Only then did I realize how slurred my voice was, but I still wasn't nearly as drunk as I wished to be - I could still remember. I could still feel. I would only stop when the pain had numbed. "I'm going to drink some more." Parker pulled my arms through the sleeves of my robe and pulled it together up front, tying off the belt. "How often are you this drunk, Miss Mason?" "A better question would be, when am I not this drunk? And to that, the answer would be 'not often'." Once again, I picked up the bottle, dodging him when he tried snatching it away. "This rum is excellent. Would you like some?" "I'm on the job." "Good," I said, sitting back on my bed and leaning back into the throne of soft pillows. "I don't particularly like sharing my rum." And to prove my point, I held the bottle to my lips, drinking the rest. Still not satisfied with my drunken state, I let go of the bottle and closed my eyes, waiting for the copious amount of alcohol to take effect. "Your parents wouldn't want to see you like this." "Good thing they're all dead, then." "Lilith Cooper isn't." "Lilith is a vegetable. I'm keeping her on life support because I'm too selfish to let her go." "You love her." "Why are you here?" "I wanted to ask you who you thought might want to kill you," he said. "That glass of wine Isaac drank was meant for you." "I haven't the slightest idea who might want to murder me. Or why, for that matter. I am perfect, after all." "I can't help you if you won't allow me. You need to trust me." I pointed to the door. "Please go." Detective Parker let out a sigh and began to head out, turning back for a  moment to look at me from the doorway. "Trusting nobody is as stupid as trusting everybody." The door shut behind him and I sank into my bed, closing my eyes, wishing the alcohol would take me under.