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"I can't tell you how many times I thought I was going to come home to find him dead in our dorm room," he admits. "He just had no will to live, and I knew that if I didn't find him something worth living for, that this would be it. The last straw."
"You could have given me the heads up," I whisper.
He looks over at me with a sad smile. "No, I couldn't. You would have stayed too guarded. You wouldn't have let him in as openly as you did. And I was afraid it wouldn't work if you both weren't all in."
As much as Carter makes some shitty choices sometimes, they always seem to be for good reason. I rest my head on his shoulder and stare up at the night sky, wondering if Jace can see the stars too.
"What do we do now?" I question defeatedly.
Carter sighs and leans his head on mine. "Now we get ready. Jace is going to need us, because this is going to be a fight for his life."
I wake in the morning to the sound of a guard at my cell door calling my name. A shooting pain radiates from my chest all the way to my spine as I pick myself up off the hard floor. Last night, I got back from the infirmary well past the time everyone was sleeping, and I was in too much pain to get up onto the top bunk myself. The floor seemed like the only option at the time, but now I'm seriously reconsidering it.
The guard leads me through the prison, and all the inmates are chanting things about special treatment. On the way to where we're going, I lock eyes with Blade for a second and immediately look away. His motive is clear. He wanted to get back at the people who played a hand in locking him up, and judging by my injuries, he more than succeeded. At least as far as I'm concerned.
I'm brought into the bathroom and given a razor, shaving cream, and a bar of soap, but as I look around, I notice I'm the only one in here. I give the guard a curious look, and thankfully, he caves.
"Your extradition hearing is this morning, and the warden doesn't want to risk further injury before you're put in front of a judge."
Ah. "Thanks."
As I step further into the bathroom, I catch sight of myself in the mirror. Both my eyes are black and blue. My bottom lip is cut and swollen. But nothing compares to the pain in my ribs. The nurse in the infirmary told me the extent of my injuries, but I think I was too exhausted to really pay attention. Looking at it now though, I can see why I'm in so much pain. My entire left side is purple, and if I remember correctly, two of my ribs are cracked.
I thought the shower water would feel good, but the whole time I'm trying to clean myself, all I can think about is how much pain I'm in. Every movement causes something else to hurt, and it's only a matter of time before I give up on showering all together. It's good enough. Especially since I'll probably just end up back in here anyway.
Getting out of the shower, I dry myself off as well as I can and get dressed into a new, but still ugly, orange jumpsuit. I comb my hair out of my face and completely forego shaving. It's only a little stubble, and I'm afraid of reopening one of the multiple cuts from yesterday with the cheap, single-blade razor.
Once I deem myself appropriate, I go back to the guard, and we head out.
THE VAN PULLS INTO a special entrance behind the courthouse, and an officer comes to get me out. He makes sure my handcuffs are secure, and the belt around my waist and ankles is tight enough. Then he leads me into an elevator that takes us to the main floor.
As soon as I step into the courtroom, my gaze meets Paige's, and she gasps. Carter wraps an arm around her in an attempt to calm her down, but it only makes me want to punch him even more. Then again, it's probably a good thing I'm shackled up. The two of us can each hold our own in a fight with each other on a normal day, but I'm not exactly in the best shape right now.
I walk over to Finn, who pulls out the seat next to him for me. "Thanks."
"You look like shit, boy," he teases, trying to lighten the mood.
"That's really fitting, because I feel like shit, too."
He chuckles, but before he can say anything else, the bailiff steps in.
"All rise for the Honorable Judge Higgins.”
We all stand up, and the judge comes in and takes a seat. "You may be seated."
As I sit down, I feel a hand come up and tap me on the shoulder. I glance behind me and see my dad and Mr. Trayland sitting there, looking hopeful. With a forced smile, I focus my attention back to the front of the room.
"I understand we're here to determine whether or not Mr. London will be extradited to the state of Florida for the..." He pauses. "Am I reading this right? For the charge of Second Degree Murder?"
"Yes, your honor," Finn responds.
The judge seems surprised that we're even attempting this, which only lessens my hope even more. "Very well. Counselor Bradford, the floor is yours."
Nodding, Finn starts his argument. "Your honor, I'd like to start by pointing out that my client had no prior criminal history. He has been a model citizen up until this event took place and has had no involvement with the law since. He goes to college at North Haven University and maintains a 3.6 GPA. I took some time to look over the evidence provided by the Tallahassee Police Department, and while there is a lot of data, it is all circumstantial."
The lawyer arguing for my extradition stands. "Your honor, if I may, the defense has failed to point out that even though Mr. London had no prior history before the incident involving the victim, he then proceeded to get expelled from Florida State University."
"Is this true?" The judge asks Finn.
