in which a criminal is brought in for an interview after getting arrested.
she's the key for cracking a case the fbi had been working on for years.
but will she talk or will she continue hide, trying to run from her memories?
or
in which Spencer ca...
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▆breathing
▂▂▂▂▂▂▂▂▂▂▂
﹙you bitch﹚
SOMETIMES A WEEK FLIES BY, leaving behind a trail of dust as a mere memory that it had been there.
Other times instead it just doesn't seem to pass, the hands of the clock almost staying still.
And as Verity sit with no one by her side at a table in the corner of the prison canteen she felt like this week wasn't even thinking about passing by. The thought of the rest of her life looking like that was enough to leave an unsettling feeling in her chest.
Her fingertips brushed against her wrist when she rolled up the red sleeve of her uniform. She had learned to hate that color in the few days she had worn it, it stood out among the others, letting everyone know the monster she was.
The loud clattering of a tray posing on the table, right in front of her made her lift her head. She furrowed her brows at the sight of the red haired woman sitting on the bench.
Her cell-mate, Laila, who had yet have to speak more than two words to her.
Laila gathered few leaves of the salad in her plate, "I couldn't stay there and watch you sit here so depressed for another ten minutes." she explained bringing the fork to her mouth.
Verity raised a brow at the her breaking in half the piece of bread on her tray, "Sure," her eyes didn't leave the woman, who glanced at her seemingly harmlessy. "I've been here for a week, yet only now you talk to me. What do you really want?"
"Listen, I still have twenty years in this prison and living them with the fear that my serial killer cell mate is going to kill me in my sleep because I wasn't friendly with her is not on my bingo card." Verity didn't miss how sharp her words were, and the lack of sincerity they seemed to carry.
"That makes sense." muttered the blonde bringing the bread to her mouth. She wasn't convinced, her actions seemed unnatural and forced, but again Verity was, for everyone, a cold blooded serial killer, a person who took the lives of innocent people just for the fun of it; so the last thing she could do was expecting anyone to be kind to her without wanting anything back.
She let her blue eyes fall on her plate for a second, observing her food debating what disgusting dish she should've eaten first, the action taking enough time from her to make her miss the way Laila's hand twitched around her fork as her stare didn't falter from the blonde.
"So you were part of the timoretikos."
Verity jaw clenched, the thought of eating now far from her mind, a wave of nausea washing over her. Their betrayal was still a fresh wound and the sound of their name was a knife cutting it deeper.
