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</div></div><br/>Nothing at that point would ever seem normal, despite Amadan's efforts to backtrack he knew that the spider merging with his human form had caused a rift between himself and Detective Tony Deschenes. Leaving the interrogation room that he'd sat in for almost 23 hours, was at least a consolation prize but not on the terms that Amadan preferred.<br/><br/>As the door separating him from the detective began to close, the invisible barrier between them became a solid fortress for Tony to lock himself away in. Amadan slowly pulled back, afraid that he was trying too hard to make amends. Retreating into his own emotional shell of safety too, to avoid the impending pain that came with rejection.<br/><br/>It was in his moment of self-loathing that he hated the spider, despising what he was and what he was forced to become. He could feel how rankled Tony was, because of the way he avoided staring directly into his eyes as he spoke to him. Amadan knew that the uncomfortable sensation of having tangled with something unknown had left Tony despairing as to why the spider attacked him.<br/><br/>Amadan felt terrible about it. Just like he felt terrible for all of those families affected by the senseless deaths of their loved ones. Amadan's alibi had checked out, all i's dotted and t's crossed. He knew he didn't commit the murders of the state officials, even if it were possible that he was present at the times of their deaths instead of asleep in his own bed, or working at Casa Marianella or attending his ESL class.<br/><br/>If the detectives were good ones, they would be able to see that Amadan wasn't capable of doing the damage that was inflicted upon the four bodies. Arachnids just slurped up the liquefied internal organs of their chosen prey, they didn't rip whole organs out of bodies or tear through muscle and bone like the wounds on the bodies.<br/><br/>Amadan's chocolate gaze shifted to the floor as Tony addressed him, for as empathetic as Tony was the sentient being Amadan was allowed him to feel the tension in the air between them. It was as effective as brushing against his body or tapping out a pattern of beats with his forelegs in order to communicate with others. His subdued demeanor was obvious as a smile flickered briefly across his lips.<br/><i><br/>
"Gracias,</i><b>Detective Dee-shay-nees. I will wait."</b>Amadan replied, not going anywhere until his cherished violin and its hard case was in his hands.<br/><br/>When Tony suggested they move to another place to wait for evidence to return the instrument to Amadan, he followed behind him and trusted Tony's words that he would have the violin returned to him shortly. The next room was much better than the last one, with its smooth gray walls and double paned spying glass.<br/><br/>It was kind of Tony to wait with him, when he could've just dumped him there and returned to work, letting Amadan become someone else's problem to deal with. He felt his heart sink once more as Tony commented about the invitation he'd given earlier, because it wasn't completely affirmative. He wanted to say something like,<i>oh great. I look forward to seeing you there,</i>but he couldn't manage the words.<br/><br/><i>If I'm ever in the area, I'll see what I can do,</i>sounded more like<i>when dogs start flying and I see unicorns on the street, maybe then I'll stop by to hear you play your violin</i>to Amadan. He would have rather had Tony say no, then to rely upon the false hope that one day Tony might stop by.<br/><b><br/>
"Maybe you will do much more than that, detective," </b>Amadan politely replied.<br/><br/>It was one of Tony's colleagues that broke the growing tension between them, when he located Amadan's violin that had been confiscated by the authorities in the event he was charged with the murders of the state officials and they needed the musical instrument for evidence. When Amadan saw the violin, his smile became as bright as the dawn breaking through the night sky.<br/><br/>He was obviously quite happy to see the instrument which was approximately three to four centuries old, and had been in his family for ages. Amadan was the only one of his siblings to have an affinity for music, and he played it as if he were born with it in his hands.<br/><br/><i>"Muchas gracias, señor, </i><b>this a big relief for me." </b>Amadan replied, taking the violin into custody.<br/><br/>Amadan's smile faded a little when he noticed how the other detective reluctantly handed the one thing he cherished over to Tony. Finally, the message computed in his brain.<i> They still think I did this horrible thing I didn't do, but they don't have enough proof to hold me here. </i>That sudden realization hit Amadan hard, killing the light within his dark eyes when he accepted the case from Tony.<br/><br/>Tony clearly felt the same way about him on top of what the spider had done. Unceremoniously, Amadan opened the case to make certain that his violin was still in one piece, and that his bow and rosin were in place in their compartments. They were, and Amadan closed the case and prepared to leave. Amadan wanted to get out of the police station as quickly as possible.<br/><br/>As a matter of fact, Amadan was certain that he'd never see Detective Deschenes ever again and that he wouldn't bother to come see him play. Especially after he was able to read the easily translated body language communicated between the two detectives. The moment Tony escorted Amadan to the exit, Amadan vanished without saying another word.<br/><br/>---------------------------------------------<br/><br/>The detectives at the Austin Police Department were probably left scratching their heads because they didn't have a suspect in custody, and Amadan went back to his old habits except he'd become more reclusive as a result of being falsely accused. There had been a negative effect of his arrest, even though in the United States of America he was supposed to be innocent before being proven guilty.<br/><br/>Except someone didn't inform his neighbors about that stipulation. Naturally they read the newspapers or watched the news and discovered that Amadan was under suspicion for the killings. They'd become frightened when Amadan was taken into custody by the police, and since it was a supernaturally related murder they let him know he wasn't welcome back at the trailer park.<br/><br/>Someone faceless person among them set fire to his mailbox and tossed eggs at his house and the windshield on his truck.<br/><br/>As childish as it seemed, the Romani man quietly pulled up the stakes on his tiny home, and towed it away behind his truck a week later. He was unhappy without his lover, beginning to show a dual personality in public and another in private--just not the one that police would expect. Rather than smiling with friends and co-workers at Casa Marianella, he'd cry himself to sleep in the darkness of his bedroom at night.<br/><br/>As for food, he'd vanish into a wooded patch of forest near his new home. The deer were plentiful there, and Amadan would quickly shift in order to feed. After he was sated, he'd metamorphose back to human form and follow his normal routine. Amadan found another trailer park near Casa Marianella, within walking distance. He started the next level of English as a Second Language the following week.<br/><br/>On the syllabus, his teacher reviewed transitive verbs. Since Amadan was having difficulty, he stayed behind for tutoring Monday and Tuesday night. While there was no class on Wednesday, Amadan spent the day at Casa Marianella to prepare for cultural appreciation night. All of the families there represented the tapestry of the world, and Amadan made a dish to share for their meal.<br/><br/>Afterwards, everyone would have an opportunity to entertain their friends with stories or music from their homeland. Amadan's contribution was a casserole dish full of<i>Fabada Asturiana, </i>a hearty stew made with white beans, several types of sausages and pork, as well as spices such as saffron. His Nigerian friends fired up the grill outside to make Suya on wooden skewers.<br/><br/>In the kitchen some of the Syrian refugees were putting the finishing touches on a bowl of Fattoush. There was caramel flan from Mexico, Naan bread from Bangalore, and the trappings of America: hot dogs, hamburgers and apple pie and plenty to drink.<br/><div class="bbCodeSpoiler">
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</div><br/>Amadan had sat down to eat after all the families were served, and as usual went for items that were easily digested. He still had a plate full of food and started speaking in Spanish to his Mexican friend, Fernando, who was in his ESL class. The last person he thought about was Detective Tony Deschenes, he probably was a person furthest from his mind, as he took a few bites of the Fabada, dipping the Naan bread into the thick stew.<br/><i><br/>
"Así que entendiste la lección, Fernando? ¡Me siento muy estupido!"</i>laughed Amadan.<br/><br/><div class="bbCodeSpoiler">
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<div class="bbCodeBlock-content">Translation: Did you understand the lesson, Fernando? I feel so stupid!</div>
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</div><br/>Entonces eso hace que dos de nosotros mi amigo!" Fernando responded, offering a compliment, "Este estofado de frijoles es bueno. ¿Qué es otra vez?<br/><br/><div class="bbCodeSpoiler">
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<div class="bbCodeBlock-content">Translation: Then that makes two of us, my friend! These beans are good, what are they called again?</div>
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</div><br/><i>"Fabada Asturiana. Feliz te gusta!"</i>he answered back.<br/><br/><div class="bbCodeSpoiler">
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<div class="bbCodeBlock-content">Translation: White bean stew, glad you like it!</div>
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</div><br/>When Kelsey, one of the group leaders, heard the door bell she left the dinner table to go answer it. Amadan didn't know it yet, but Tony must of had a change of heart and decided he'd show up tonight. It was a good night to take up his invitation with all the food and festivities going on. Either that, or Tony was completely nuts. Amadan's words died in his throat as he spoke to Fernando, once he saw who was standing in the doorway.