Duty and Death

Behind Bars

T+he days dragged on, each one heavier than the last. My nerves were fraying under the constant scrutiny, and I could feel the tension building in the station. I feel the tension building in the station. I had hope my story would hold, but deep down, I knew it was only a matter of time before the cracks started to show.
It was raining. I was at my desk, pretending to review some old case files, when Detective Park and two uniformed officers approached. His expression was stern, colder than I'd ever seen it.
"Hyejin, we need to talk," he said, his voice devoid of the usual warmth.
"What's this about?" I asked, feigning ignorance even as my heart pounded in my chest.
"Stand up," he ordered. The officers flanked me, their presence menacing. "You're under arrest."
"For what?" I demanded, though I knew the answer. My mind raced, trying to find a way out, but there was none.
"We reviewed the evidence, and your story doesn't hold up. You're being charged with obstruction of justice and suspicion of conspiracy to commit murder," he said, his eyes boring into mine. "Your court date is set for next Monday."
They didn't give me a chance to respond. I was handcuffed and led out of the station, the eyes of my colleagues following me. The ride to the holding facility was a blur of flashing lights and sirens, my thoughts a chaotic mess.
The call was cold and unforgiving, a stark contrast to the life I'd been living. I sat on the hard bench, my mind replaying the events that had led to this moment. I thought about Hoseok, Jungkook, and the rest of the group, even about Namjoon. How had it all come to this?
Days passed, each one blending into the next. The food was terrible, the guards indifferent, and the other inmates ranged from hostile to downright dangerous. I kept to myself, trying to maintain a low profile, but it wasn't easy.
One afternoon, as I was sitting in my cell, lost in thought, a guard approached. "You have a visitor," he said gruffly.
I followed him to the visiting area, my heart racing with a mix of hope and fear. Who would come to see me? Hoseok? Jungkook? Or someone else entirely.
To my surprise, it was not a visitor, but my cellmate, who approached me. She was a tall, lean woman with sharp eyes and a smirk that never seemed to leave her face.
"I know who you are," she said, her voice a low whisper. "I've seen you before."
I felt a chill run down my spine. "What are you talking about?"
"Minjun," she said, her eyes locking onto mine. "I know you killed him. And I know who you work with."
My blood ran cold. How could she know? "You're mistaken," I said, trying to keep my voice steady.
"Don't play dumb with me," she snapped. "I've been watching you. I know you're in deep with those guys-Hoseok, Jungkook, Jimin, Yoongi, Taehyung, Namjoon, and Seokjin."
I felt a wave of panic. If she knew, who else did? "What do you want?" I asked, trying to keep my composure.
"I have people on the outside," she said, leaning in closer. "They're planning a breakout. And you're coming with us."
My mind raced. A breakout? It sounded insane, but if it meant getting back to the group, maybe it was worth the risk. "When?" I asked, my voice barely above a whisper.
"Five days," she said, her eyes gleaming with a mix of excitement and menace. "Be ready."
The days leading up to my court date were agonizing. I was visited by a court-appointed lawyer who tried to prepare me for what was to come, but it felt like a lost cause. The evidence against me was strong, and my flimsy story wouldn't hold up under scrutiny.
Finally, the day arrived. I was taken from my cell, dressed in the plain clothed they provided, and transported to the courthouse. The courtroom was packed, the air thick with tension.
As I sat in the defendant's table, I glanced around, hoping to see a familiar face. Hoseok was there, his expression grim. Jungkook was absent, and I couldn't help but wonder where he was.
The judge, and older man with a stern demeanor, entered the room. "All rise," the bailiff announced. We all stood as the judge took his seat.
"Case number 2024-0023, The people versus Lee Hyejin," the judge began. "Ms. Lee, you are charged with obstruction of justice and conspiracy to commit murder. How do you plead?"
"Not guilty, Your Honor," I said, my voice steady despite the turmoil inside me.
"Very well," the judge said. "Prosecution you may present your case."
The prosecutor, a sharp-looking woman in her 40s stood up. "Your Honor, the evidence against Ms. Lee is overwhelming. We have surveillance footage, eyewitness testimonies, and forensic evidence that place her at the scenes of several murders. Furthermore, her own statements have been inconsistent and contradictory."
She presented photos, video clips, and documents that painted a damning picture. I felt my heart sink as each piece of evidence was laid out.
My court-appointed lawyer, a young man who looked fresh out of law school, stood up to defend me. "Your Honor, my client maintains her innocence. She has been working as a detective, and it is inconceivable that she would be involved in such activities while holding that position. The prosecution's evidence is circumstantial at best."
The judge nodded. "Ms. Lee, would you like to make a statement?"
I took a deep breath. "Yes, Your Honor. I had no part in those murders. I don't know the people in those photos. I've been trying to protect my family from threats. That's why I've been away from work."
"Ms. Lee," the judge said, "the evidence presented by the prosecution is substantial. However, we will hear all the testimonies before making a final decision."
The trial continued with witness testimonies, each one chipping away at my defense. The prosecutor's relentless questioning made me feel like a cornered animal. Every word I spoke felt like another nail in my coffin.
Finally, the judge called for recess. As I was led back to the holding area, I couldn't shake the feeling that my time was running out. The evidence was damning, and my flimsy alibi was crumbling under the pressure.
The nights after my court day, I sat alone in my cell, trying to find a way out. The only thing that kept me going was the hope that my cellmate's plan would work. She had assured me that her people were capable of pulling off a breakout, but I couldn't help but be skeptical.
On the day of the breakout, the tension in the air was palpable. I followed my cellmate's lead, acting nonchalant even as my heart raced. When the moment finally came, it was chaotic and terrifying. The prison alarms blared, and the guards scrambled to regain control.
"Let's go!" my cellmate urged, pulling me through the labyrinth of corridors and locked doors.
But just as we reached what seemed like the final gate, everything went wrong. Reinforcements had arrived, and they were armed and ready. My cellmate's people tried to fight back, but the guards were too many. Panic surged through me as I realized the escape had failed.
We were quickly overpowered, and I was thrown to the ground, my hands cuffed behind my back. As they dragged me away, I caught a glimpse of my cellmate being restrained, her plan in ruin.
The aftermath was brutal. The guards were livid, and the punishment was swift. I was thrown into solitary confinement, the cold, dark cell a stark reminder of my failure.
Days turned into weeks, and the isolation gnawed at my sanity. The only thing that kept me going was the thought of my family, my friends, and the hope that they were still out there, waiting for me.