Repent

sixteen

CHAPTER 16

With a help of retracing the hinge of the door, it whipped open, showing the image of her disarranged home. "Come in," she indicated as we made her way up the crunchy driveway. After our explanation of some hours, she didn't hesitate for a second to make her way out of the incoming home, surprising us with the information of her home being only some minutes away. The groggy looking man only took up his time by trailing his red rimmed eyes from up to down of each of our bodies, not even an ounce of shame hidden behind his cruel character.

"It's a beautiful home, Mrs. Styles," Ashley commented with a grin at the image of the home in her view. Although, the comment was specifically supposed to rid her of the nervousness, it did no good.

Her words earned a thankful, appreciative grin from Anne's features, a breathless sigh escaping past her lips, feeling the incredible, large weight that still made their home comfortable against her shoulders. All I could notice was her exhales and inhales. I could notice her wriggling fingers, indicating the sense of nerves in between. I could notice the shifting of her body. The undeniable sculpture of hesitation from the tips of her feet, to the top of the surface of her head.

Of course, a mother will be neurotic of their sons spending the rest of their lives in jail. Many questions lingered in her mind, I knew. The need to catch up on the years and years of missing the graduation, the first apartment. All because of a sick job.

The image that I had withheld with me of the place of work made my nose crinkle in disgust, the sense of smelling the drugs lingered in my smelling organ. So, all I did was to pretend like I had no problem with the smell, the image, the actions. Again, all because of my case. Harry.

Afterward of our arrival into her home, a welcoming smile being directed in our direction, she spoke up, figure racking with nerves. "Tell me that my son is okay, please."

ASHLEY'S POV

Autumn's frown that lingered against her features after her words owned a certain character, that had demonstrated her readiness to speak out the information that we withheld. Her features held a look of hesitation, a crease between her forehead. Though, the information had to be given out.

"Please," I sighed, breathing in a deep, incredible breath, flicking my eyes all over every aspect of her home. She stared at me with pure confusion, my only actions having to flip out the file that held the information of his first degree murderer. "I, know certainly that you will need to take a seat for this many information. He has had about fifteen meetings with interrogators, it will take time,"

Anne nodded, an unmistakable frown alight on her features, dubiousness functioning her attribute.

"Actually, your son is safe. Just his victims isn't," I said.

"Victims?" She asked. "What are you saying?"

"He was charged for a first degree murderer about a month and a half ago. Harry has been spending most of his time at our building . . . behind bars."

Autumn nodded in encouragement. "Ashley is the main course of his case. I am her trainee,"

One more time, she fiddled with her fingers nervously, flicking her eyes between us two, the interrogators of Harry's case. The court that still had the final say, but us, our opinion.

"Well, just about a month and a half ago, Harry was charged for a case of horrific murdering. He snatched strangers, citizens, visitors off the streets, one by one, took them to a back alley and killed them by either a gun shot, slicing their head off, or just beating them to death. He was seen in the area where he buried them just a week after, roaming the area. We found out that it was at the corner of a park, in an underground shoveled hole. The police tracked him down to his apartment, and arrested him. Harry has been in an building for almost two months, now . . ."