Crown of Sins - Chaelisa

-Chapter Twenty Three-

*Roseanne's POV*

The car is too quiet on the drive back.

There's no music playing, and it's so late there's almost no sound from the street while going at a normal speed this time. But, despite all of that, it somehow feels like there's non-stop ranting, shouting, all around me.

It's my thoughts, circling around each other and trying to get me to follow suit in their spiral.

Caleb was taken back to surgery. They didn't call it emergency surgery to my face, but Lisa and I both knew it was. No fucking way was I going to leave the hospital. I wouldn't even leave the spot where the bed was wheeled from.

Not until someone came to tell me that Caleb would be okay. They said he wasn't going home tonight, so I really should. And, finally, I could breathe then. But I still wanted to wait there.

It took Lisa threatening to drag me out of there in cuffs to get me to listen to her at all, to hear that I wouldn't be any help to Caleb at all if I delusional from lack of sleep.

She was right. But all I gave her was a nod. It was enough at least. Even though I believed her, I knew he was right, that didn't mean I wanted to go. I just had to.

But I haven't said a word the entire time I've been in my car, not even when she offered greasy burgers from a twenty-four-hour drive-through. I hear her talking to herself but I can't think about anything other than what happened and where my brain went in the midst of the panic.

Fury is going to fuel me, I can tell, but right now I'm too tired for much of anything.

Though, I can tell for the last few minutes she's been regretting whatever it is she needs to ask me, dread creeping through her the longer I puts it off. I can tell because her shoulders and elbows are pulling in tighter to her body, and her lips are forming a straighter line all the time.

"You know I can't take you home, right?" she says without turning from the road.

"Yeah," I say immediately, jolting her. Not what she expected. "It has blood everywhere," I add. It's almost as if I'm talking about fried chicken or the right way to dust blinds, I sound so monotone. It only increases the disconnection I'm already feeling.

Gripping the wheel so hard there's an audible pop from one of her white knuckles, Lisa takes a few moments to breathe deeply before replying.

"It's a crime scene," she says. It's probably all she can manage that's relatively appropriate.

"You can drop me at The Monument," I say with head turned and eyes focused not actually out my window but on a water spot in the middle of the glass. It's the only hotel I can think of in the moment, though she'll probably scoff, since it's also the fanciest hotel anywhere near us.

"You're staying with me," she tells me, not asking.

Normally, I'd argue, throw in some name calling at the very least. But all I do is shrug, looking down to my hands that still have some of Caleb's blood dried near a wrist and under one nail even though I washed them three times.

Though, as we get closer to her place, I finally shift to look at her, raising just one eyebrow, with half a smirk I don't expect to add. It slips because I know how much she loves-to-hate the way I question her without words.

She squirms like she's thinking too much and wishing she's explained before right now. And when we pull into her driveway I know why.

Sucking in a breath, I try to stop myself from saying anything without thinking first. And then the exhale comes out in a loud groan.