𝐧𝐨 𝐛𝐨𝐝𝐲, 𝐧𝐨 𝐜𝐫𝐢𝐦𝐞- 𝐫𝐚𝐟𝐞 𝐜𝐚𝐦𝐞𝐫𝐨𝐧

17.

I woke up from the feeling of cool wind brushing against my skin. I pulled the soft blankets over me, squeezing my eyes shut. The smell of eggs and bacon wafted through my nose, alerting me awake for good. Opening my eyes, I realized I wasn't in my home or the Cameron's household. It made me more comfortable seeing Sarah stirring on the couch in front of mine.

Sarah rubbed her eyes, stretching until her hand hit the back of the couch. She sprung up, taking in her surroundings. She relaxed, helping me relax as well. Her eyes found mine, tossing me a small smile. "Good morning, sleepy head."

It was a comforting feeling to be in her presence. I missed our random sleepovers together that usually started because we were up watching movies all night. She had changed out of my clothes that she still wore last night. She didn't have access to other clothes because she couldn't stay at her house, but now she had an oversized shirt on that definitely did not belong to me.

Clinking glasses and the movement of glass plates coming from the kitchen jogged my rapid emotions. Where am I?

"Oh, good. You're awake." Topper came in, holding two platters of food in his hands. He placed one in front of Sarah and one in front of me.

"Thanks." I mumbled, digging right in.

Sarah did too, obviously starving from the lack of food. I might not exactly be caught up in the Sarah, Topper, and John B drama, but in the moment I didn't care to ask. I was starving and Topper just so happened to be a great chef.

He waited for one of us to say something, but neither Sarah or I spoke up, too busy with our food. Topper sat down on the edge of Sarah's couch near her feet. He fiddled with his fingers, debating on what to do.

"Do you need me to call someone?" Topper decided on that, searching my eyes for something.

"Topper." Sarah scolded, her fork hovering in the air.

"Sorry." Topper apologized. "Your car was left at the party last night."

No. Shit. The cops were there and I left my car!

I felt around in my shorts pocket, feeling my keys and my phone in my back pockets. I let out a sigh of relief, but surely I'd be caught again. Unless they thought it belonged to a nearby house because no one claimed it in the chase.

My bag was sitting on the floor next to the table beside the couch. A glass of water rested on the table, creating condensation underneath it. I took it, taking a long sip.

"It's fine." I spoke up, placing my plate on the table. "I should probably get my car before the cops question it."

It was plain and simple, the awkward tension between Sarah and Topper growing within the room. He wanted time alone with her to take care of her and bombard her with questions that went unanswered for so long.

"You don't have to." Sarah said, glaring at Topper for his rude question.

I had asked for help from Sarah. She tried to give me a place to stay the best she could. It involved the Pogues, but at least I wouldn't be sleeping outside. Now I'm here in the comfort of Topper's home and suddenly I felt bad for invading his space. I wasn't this close to Topper.

I rubbed my forehead, a headache growing in the back of my head. I didn't drink anything last night, but- I lifted my arm so quickly I almost knocked the glass off the table. My arm was still littered with cuts, the blood dry along my arm.

"You fell asleep the moment you hit the couch." Topper informed. "We didn't want to wake you."

The memories from last night hit me hard. I had my notebook in my backpack, the cocaine, the names Michael gave me. Too many for me to question with many more he didn't know or remember. I had to admit to the murder.