Penchant Love for Miss Criminal (Completed)

CHAPTER 5

CHAPTER 5

My brother, James, sat in front of me and then he cleared his throat, bringing me back to the present.

"What happened?" he inquires calmly.

"What, What happened?!" I ask sarcastically.

"Louis, I need you to calm down," he says as he pulls the chair closer to me and reaches for my hand.

"Stop rubbing your hand, it's very red," he says quietly.

"Can you tell me exactly what happened?" he asks, still clutching my cold hands.

I told him everything except where I was coming from, I only told him what I heard before entering the house, what I saw when she was lying on her desk in her office, and what was in the note, and he just listened to me and comforted me.

"Ja-james, I'm scared," I sobbed and hugged him.

"Don't worry, I'll protect you."

Someone knocked on the door, and it opened, and I saw Alessander, my brother, stand up, gather his belongings, and walk towards the door while they both glared at each other.

"I'll be right there listening," James said, pointing to the large mirror on the left side of the seat in front of me.

"So you didn't kill her?" he asks the first time he sits in front of me.

"Do you think I can kill her in a minute with a nylon?" I joke.

"What you see, Ms. Seymour, is a string from an ID holder that you own," he asks, staring into my eyes.

I was taken aback; what was he on about? He must have read my mind because he continues to explain.

"The nylon you saw in her neck is a string from the circle ID holder you own," he stated while staring at my eyes.

"I told you it is not me!" I yelled and punch the table.

"They're lot of evidence pointing you. Now I want you to tell me everything," he said seriously but I did not answer him and I just stared at him back.

He's annoyed with me for some reason, as evidenced by his tone of voice and his glare. I just stayed quiet, and maybe he realized it was pointless to keep asking me questions that I wouldn't answer, so he stood up and left the room, and the cops came in and cuffed my hands, escorted me outside the room, and sent me inside the bastille while handing me an orange cloth. I looked around and noticed several women with tattoos.

"Hey, new here?" a filthy woman with exotic hair asks, and if you look at her from a distance, you'd think she's a man with her muscular body.

"What do you think?" I ask in colloquial terms.

"What is your case?" a woman from behind her asks, looking similar to her, are they a gang or something?

"I guess murder," I shrug.

"And why is that?" asks another woman.

"Because I killed someone who kept asking me personal questions," I replied vehemently.

They take a step back, then their leader laughs loudly, then turns angry and walks up to me, about to punch me, when a cop strikes the railings in the Bastille.

"Shut your mouth, bitch," the lady cop told the hag.

I just smirked and went to the empty bed, not changing my clothes in front of this creepy woman who was staring at me. I'm just grateful that the lady cop never leaves our bastille because if she does, I'm sure I'll be dead meat. I just lay on the bed with my arm in my head, staring at the ceiling, wishing it was all a dream. I felt sorry for my parents because all they want is a clean name, but I ruined it because I'm such a disgrace and a loser, so I cried silently, and my heart ached from crying in silence.

I awoke to a morning call, all the prisoners came out of their cells and formed a line like children in school, I followed them and carried the cloth they gave me, hoping to bathe today to clean the blood in my body and end up right. We took a bath and then ate breakfast, then while I was sitting on my bed, the cops called and said I had a visitor, so I walked nervously over to the visitors chair, where I saw Stacey sitting with the phone on the other side of the glass, waving at me with teary eyes, and I picked up the phone.

"Hey, you still look gorgeous in that prisoner's uniform," she remarked, holding back her tears.

"I know," I say, laughing.

We fell silent, and she burst into tears.

"I miss you," she exclaimed.

"Shh, I miss you too," I said as I burst into tears.

"Did you eat well?" she inquires, and I simply nod and cry.

"Don't worry, James will do everything in his power to get you out of here," she raises her hand and places it in the glass, and I do the same. It appears that we are touching, but the glass separates us.

"I know, and I trust him," I said, smiling.

We kept talking and comforting each other, and I made sure I was in good health. The cop appeared behind me and called me back, saying my 30 minutes were up. I returned to the Bastille and saw my inmates playing cards, but they were in different groups, so I approached them because they appeared friendly.

"Hey," I said.

"Hey, want to join us?" they ask with a grin, but before I can respond, someone grabs my hands and pulls them away from me.

"The friendly ones are the scariest," my inmates whisper in my ears as I quickly pull my arm away from her.

"Wh-what exactly do you mean?"

"They are dangerous, they appear friendly, but they will make you suffer in their company," she said as she walked away from me.

She appears to be 45 years old, with an intimidating face. I dashed over to her and began walking with her.

"How long have you been in here?" I inquire, curious.

"13 years," she replied quickly, without looking at me.

"What are you going to do?"

"Restroom, mother nature is calling," she said as she went inside the restroom, leaving me outside.

When she came out of the restroom, she smelled cigar and was surprised that I was still there, so I kept following her and asking questions.

"Isn't it risky for you not to join any groups?" I ask, following her even though I had no idea where she was going.

"I can protect myself," she replied confidently, and I admired her for her cool demeanor.

She came to a halt in front of me and yelled, "Why are you still following me!" I thought she'd be my friend, but I'm bad at judging.

Some groups approach us, "Oi, isn't she the daughter of the great Prosecutor Seymour?" all her minions are getting ready.

"Is she?" she asks sarcastically, about to walk past them when the bitch starts talking again.

"Should you avoid her because her mother is the reason you're here?" she asks, chuckling.

I look at her, but she just walks away, and I stop following her because I understand and respect why she doesn't want me around her. So I went back to my bed and curled up, burrying my face beneath my two curled feet. I start crying because I can't believe I was in that situation.