𝐇𝐨𝐩𝐞𝐥𝐞𝐬𝐬: 𝐀𝐬𝐩𝐲𝐧 𝐂𝐚𝐦𝐞𝐫𝐨𝐧 ~ 𝐎𝐮𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐁𝐚𝐧𝐤𝐬

𝐖𝐡𝐨'𝐝 𝐘𝐨𝐮 𝐊𝐢𝐥𝐥?

"I'm gonna be honest with you, it hurt me seeing you in that cell. You're better than that, baby,"

I couldn't stop replaying that sentence in my head. I couldn't let go of those words Peterkin had said to me. Especially as I sat in a jail cell, alone, wearing an orange jumpsuit. She wouldn't want me here.

The sight of me at the police station hurt her. I couldn't even imagine what she'd feel if she saw me in jail.

Even then, I knew I did the right thing by helping John B, and I was sure Peterkin would agree with my decisions. Well, most of them.

She cared about John B and wanted him safe, and that's all I was doing. Keeping him safe.

Something was telling me that she was proud.

Proud that I stopped using, proud that I had helped John B, proud of who I was able to become.

I quickly backtracked when the realization of where I was hit me...yet again.

Would she really be proud of me?

I was in fucking jail for God's sake. How the hell would that make her proud?

My brain was in a constant state of contracting itself until it simply stopped. It happened so suddenly and I became at peace with my decisions.

She was proud of me. I knew it for sure.

I was no longer questioning it. Somehow, something in me knew.

It was almost as if Peterkin had stood directly in front of me and confirmed it. That's how sure I was.

My gut told me. My brain told me. My heart told me.

Everything in me knew that the message, so to speak, was true.

Tears welled in my eyes and I began to cry, cupping my hands over my mouth so the sounds of my sobs wouldn't escape.

The fact that she was truly gone was starting to hit me. I had been so caught up in everything else, I didn't have time to grieve, but once I did, it hit me hard.

I was so wrapped up in my thoughts, that I jumped a mile when the thick, metal door of the cell opened, revealing Shoupe on the other side.

"Shit..." I breathed, wiping my eyes. "You have terrible timing,"

"Are you- are you alright?" He stammered.

I glared at him, annoyed that he would even ask. "What do you care?"

"Just get up," He sighed. "Come here,"

I did as he told me, standing up and walking to the front of the cell. He took out a pair of handcuffs and cuffed my wrists in front of me.

"Is this necessary?" I asked.

"Yes,"

"Really?"

"Yes, Aspyn, it is. Okay?!"

"It was just a fucking question," I muttered.

"What'd you say?"

"Nothing, nothing," I dismissed.

"That's what I thought," He simply replied.

I was purposely being a smartass. Was it the best idea? Probably not. But I didn't care. I was upset.

He led me into an interrogation room and shut the door behind us. There was a table in the middle with a chair on each side.

He pulled out one chair for me, then took a seat across from me in the other.