Stormy Weather

I can't save us

She felt pathetic. It was the only way to explain it. It was spreading, curdling inside of her, clouting her blood, making her choke until she couldn't breathe. A deep, all consuming shame.

Celeste hadn't known what to do, she was 18, no social worker would come after her, without Drew, no one was going to look after her. Now, she had no home, no clothes, nothing, and it was all her fault.

So she went the only place she could think of, which, drunk and grief stricken, was definitely the wrong decision to make. Celeste had pounded on the door, the house felt like a childhood memory, sort of translucent in her mind, only to realize it was real all this time. The door swung open, and there he was.

It had been time to see if blood was truly thicker than water.

Having no dignity left, Celeste had cried to Tommy, telling him about Drew's death, about the house burning down, how she needed somewhere to stay. She practically begged Tommy to let her stay, and then he had done something horrible. He hugged her. And Celeste cried, and sobbed, and Tommy didn't say a word.

He'd let her use the shower while he found some clothes she could wear, putting a pillow on the couch. And then she'd thanked him, why the hell had he helped Celeste? Was it guilt for not stopping the football teams rumours? Or was it because Tommy was the kind person everyone said he was.

Currently sitting in a police interrogation room alone, Celeste had a lot of time to contemplate it, letting her shame spiral. She glanced at the large mirror, wondering if anyone was behind it, watching her. Celeste hoped no one was, because she felt like an animal with its skin peeled off, exposed and barren. Her heart ripped out of her chest, bleeding all over the floor.

She held her head in her hands, wishing she could disappear, she spent a lot of time wishing she could disappear recently. Gone, gone, gone.

The heavy metal door swung open, Sheriff Goode walked in, wearing a smug look on his face. He always had that look on his face, when he took Celeste's mom away, when he had arrested a fifteen year old Celeste for drug possession. He always looked so proud, like he was untouchable.

And maybe the most fucked up thing about this town was, it was fucking true. He was untouchable.

"Didn't expect to see you in here so soon after your step-fathers death Ms. Slater, would've thought you would try to honour him somehow"  The sheriff pulled out the chair across from Celeste, it creaked as he sat down, cracking just a little bit under his weight "guess I was wrong"

He dropped the case file down on the metal table, Celeste continued staring straight ahead "you burned down your house"

"I didn't do anything"

"Your 18, you'll go to jail this time and face more than a two month sentence" The sheriff leaned back in his chair "you'll spend years of your life rotting in a cell"

"Why are you so ready to send me to jail for something I didn't fucking do?" Celeste snapped "I have never done anything to you"

The fact that he hadn't glanced at the mirror once meant no one was behind it. He sighed opening up the case file and taking a pen out of his shirt pocket, clicking it on "I know a girl like you when I see one" he wrote something down "your a parasite, a piece of trash carrying disease, your nothing, you never will be anything, but you still spread"

"You spread your ideas, your wickedness, without anyone seeing it, and it is my job to keep my town save from people like you" He slapped the case file shut and stood up, the chair scrapping across the floor as he did. He walked over to Celeste, placing his hand on her chin, jerking it up so that she had to look at him.