Different colored minds

The police officer

STEVEN POV

My hands are in handcuffs as a van takes me away. I don't know where they'll take me. I watch as the town I grew up in floods by me, dark houses, dark lawns.
The police officer across from me looks out the window too.
"You just lost your youth kid," he says, his voice deep and rough.
"I know," I say, I don't even mention to him I don't care. I don't need a youth if this is all there is to it. I wanted to die, why would I care? I couldn't even pass my classes.
"You haven't started regretting it yet?"
I look at the police officer dead in the eye. His eyes are the color of Aliana's. She didn't deserve to die. His hair is the color of Joe's. Do I admit it to him? I did it for a reason, if I say I regretted it, then would my reason for doing it die too. If I admit that I did an atrocious act does it change anything? Will it bring them back? Will it make this easier? No. No it won't. Then why....
"Yeah," I look back out of the window expecting more words to pass between us, but he doesn't say anything. He just lets the van keep rolling. It's surreal to be in this position. I don't think anyone has told my parents yet, I kind of wish I killed them too so they wouldn't have to bear the shame. So I wouldn't have to see their faces in the courtroom. I can't even imagine that. I wish I was dead, but then again I don't. I deserve my punishment. If anyone deserves a punishment it's me. The police officers should have killed me. Instead they took my leg, and saved my life.
In the distance I can see the old prison I used to ride by on my bike when I was a kid. Joe and I used to wonder what it would be like to have to be in there. Hated by the world, at a young age. Because they were kids in there, in the juvenile hall. They were kids just like us. Just like me. Me. They were kids who didn't have an escape like me. I always hated them, said they deserved the punishment, knew they'd probably end up back in there if they got out.
I always told myself the police were stupid for letting them out again, if they knew they'd go back, why did they let them out?
I can't help but think how foolish I was then, I mean, they can't have done something worse than me. I shot my best friend.