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I rattle the handcuff against the bed rail again. “Wasn’t much of a rescue if I’m cuffed to the bed, wouldn’t you agree?”
“That’s what I’m here to speak with you about. I’ll be your representation for the charges.”
I want out of this bed, out of this sickeningly bright room, and to be somewhere comfortable. That’s all I want. The industrial fabric of the hospital gown is sandpaper on my skin. The blankets aren’t much better.
“Hey.” Her eyes snap up to meet mine. Dark eyes, just like that last girl he shot in front of us.Is this some kind of fucked-up trick?“It’s not illegal to get kidnapped. That’s what happened to me.”
This woman peers at me, like she’s trying to decide, right here and right now, if I’m innocent or not. “It must be disturbing to wake up with no memory of processing, but unfortunately, Rome, you’re in the San Francisco jail infirmary. You were brought in last night on...” She consults the portfolio. “First-degree murder, attempted murder and kidnapping. Plus the sexual assault charges, which they’ll add to your ticket in the coming days.”
Maybe I don’t remember it, or maybe I just don’t want to remember it. I have dim, flickering memories of trying to stand up. Of being stripped down. Camera flashes. A low voice reading out my rights. That was a hallucination, wasn’t it? Fuck.Wasn’t it?
“You required urgent medical care, which the jail has provided. How are you feeling?”
Like I’ve been hit by a row of semi trucks, all going seventy miles an hour. I feel battered, aching, starving and sick at the same time. My head is too heavy to lift it off the pillow.
“I’m fine. Where is Avery?”
She gives a slight shake of her head. “I can’t give you any information about the victim.”
Pure, unadulterated rage wraps itself around my heart and squeezes. “If you can’t give me any information and you’re not getting me out of these cuffs, then what the hell are you here for?”
“Representation,” she says again.
“I don’thaverepresentation.”
“Your father didn’t want you to face the charges with a public defender. A wise move on his part.”
If my head wasn’t already pinned to the pillow I’d have let it fall. This is the most fucked-up scenario on earth. I couldn’t have dreamed up a worse outcome. All those times I thought Avery and I might be rescued, the fantasy didn’t end up like this.
“Just tell me, is Avery alive.”
Amara glances at the door. “I can’t give you any information about your victims,” she repeats, slower this time. “I can tell you that you’re being charged with the kidnappings of Penelope Blake and Avery Capulet. The murder of Penelope Blake. And theattemptedmurder of Avery Capulet.” She stresses the word attempted as she tilts her head, imploring me to understand. I nod. She’s telling me Avery is alive.
“Thank you,” I say weakly. My heart thuds a beat of relief for Avery’s survival. Those pills were so strong, but my girl was–is–stronger.My girl. Ha. Maybe she was my girl when we were young, and maybe she was my girl down in that hellhole, but back here in reality? She has a fiancé, a future mapped out, a destiny to fulfil.
I wonder if I’ll ever see her again.
“Let’s talk about your bail hearing,” Amara interrupts my frantic thoughts. I try to focus on her, but it’s so hard. I’m still half-dead from the pills, from the torture, from the starvation, from the fucking bullet hole in my shoulder.
I raise my eyebrows at her as if to say,go on. As she’s gathering papers from her portfolio, I watch her, seething, letting her words sink in.
My father hired her. A lawyer.My fucking lawyer.
The fact that my dad even knows about this, out there in his off-the-grid, no cell service hippie commune, means that we’ve hit the news. I shouldn’t be surprised. Avery Capulet has been in the news since the moment she was born. The lawyer is still talking, but I’m thinking of those trailers out in the Joshua Tree desert and the way Avery smiled when I told her that I loved her.
That wasn’t a fucking hallucination. That was real, and it still throbs in the middle of me like its own open wound. If I’m in jail on murder charges, it’ll be forever before I can see her. AndI need to see her. I need it more than I need air, more than I need the IV stuck into my arm, which, judging by the feel of it, has pumped me full of Narcan and saline.I need her.
“I didn’t hear any of that,” I interrupt Amara.
She pauses and looks at me. I can’t tell if her compassion is real or fake. I’m not sure if it matters. Nothing really matters, except getting to Avery, and I can’t get to Avery because I’m chained to this fucking bed like an animal. I’ve swapped one prison for another.
“Your bail hearing is set for tomorrow.” Even. Clear. Like a bail hearing for murder charges always happens upon being boosted from a kidnapping scene. “If you’re not well enough to attend, I can motion for it to be delayed. All things considered, it would be best to stand for the hearing tomorrow. That way the process is in motion.”
All things considered. Whatthingshas she considered? The fact that we were held hostage in an underground hellhole for weeks? The horrible shit I was forced to do? How has any of this led to murder charges?
“I didn’t kill anyone,” I say flatly.
“That may be, but the prosecution apparently has compelling enough evidence to press charges.”
