ᴍʏ ʙᴜꜱ ʙᴜᴅᴅʏ. [ᴍɪᴄʜᴀᴇʟ ᴊᴀᴄᴋꜱᴏɴ ꜰꜰ]

Ch. 18- A Holiday Behind Bars.

She stared into her mug, looking at her reflection. She could see the sadness and disappointment in her eyes. Anybody could.

"Honey, what's wrong?" The woman looked up, meeting her mom's concerned face. "It's Christmas. Everything's supposed to be jolly. What has happened that has you in such a blue mood?"

Her fingers tapped at the side of the mug. She didn't wanna tell what was really upsetting her. They'd get the wrong idea.

Hazel and Matthew looked at her, worried, but expectantly waiting for an answer. She glanced at a rectangle-shaped present sitting under the tree. It was the only one left that went unopened.

Ophelia sighed, pushing the cup away from herself. "Nothing, I'm just not feeling the holly jolly spirit of Christmas this year." She said, sarcastically waving her hands around. "Then that means something is wrong. You've never acted like this before." Her mother just wouldn't quit.

She stood, pushing her chair out. "Whatever's wrong, I'll take care of it now. I'll be back, and hopefully, I'll be in a better mood." They nodded. Quickly, she grabbed the remote, turning on 'How the Grinch Stole Christmas.'

Grabbing the leftover present, she ran outside. She halted. "Shit." The woman ran over to the payphone, dialing her house phone number. "Hello?"

"Sorry, I forgot to ask. Can I borrow you guys' car?" Her dad sighed on the other side of the phone. "You don't even have your own car, or a license. Do you know how to drive?"

"Yes, and I have my permit. I need one of you to come with me."

Her dad hung up. Ophelia waited, pulling her coat over herself. It was extremely cold. She did not like winter.

Matthew ran out, getting in the driver's seat. "Come on, I'll drive you." She got in, buckling up. "Ok, so where do you need to go?" The woman stared ahead with a straight face. She was nervous. She had to think of a lie of why she was going to visit a jail.

"Chicago County Jail," she answered. He looked at her crazy. She glanced at him, anxiousness instantly oozing out of her. "M-my friend works t-there," she lied.

"Alright."

= = = =

Getting out of the car, Ophelia raced up to the jail, entering it. People sat, talking with others who were on a different side of the glass.

It was depressing here. Everyone seemed sad. And it was Christmas. She thought about Darryl's mom. Sure, she didn't celebrate Christmas, but the woman was still alone on a day people were supposed to spend with family.

"Who are you here to see?" The cop asked her. Ophelia cleared her throat. She didn't know what it was, but the police made her uncomfortable. Maybe it was because they seemed to have faces made of stone.

"My friend, Darryl Collins." The cop snapped his finger, pointing to an empty seat put in front of a glass barrier. She waited, staring down at the ground. She heard the heavy door open as well as chains crinkling.

Ophelia looked up, coming face to face with Darryl. He wore an orange jumpsuit and had handcuffs on. His hair seemed flat instead of the usual bouncy curls he bore. There were bags present under his eyes.

Reaching out, she gripped the phone and put it up to her ear. "Darryl?"

"Hi." He sounded exhausted and despondent. "What happened? What did you do?" The man sighed and rubbed at his left eye. "I didn't do anything, Phelia, I promise."

Her eyes narrowed. Was he lying to her? "Tell me the truth. I thought we were done with this lying game."

"I am telling the truth. I was walking to the bus stop and I got stopped by the police. They arrested me for desecration of public property. That's all they said. I didn't do that. I was in school." He explained, using a stressed-out tone.

"Phelia, I was framed. And you know who did this. I don't know what to do. I'll have to go to court. What if I have to stay here for years? What about Mother? They said I could face 10 years if someone presses charges on something I didn't even do!"

"Darryl, stop. I believe you. I promise you, I will find out everything I can. I won't let you rot in here." She pulled out the present. "You can't give that to him," the cop interrupted her.

"Ok." She opened it and showed it to him. It was a painting. Two silhouettes, one male and the other female, sat next to each other under a tree, looking at the sky. It was them. "Merry Christmas."

A tear fell on the ground. He sniffed. "Merry Christmas." She stood, putting the picture away in her bag. "I'll help you." Ophelia walked up to the officer. "Hey, do you guys have proof that my friend there committed a crime?"

"I can't tell you that." The woman gritted her teeth, becoming angry with him. She wasn't scared anymore. "I need to know! He's been framed!" Annoyed, the man stomped off and came back with a yellow folder. "Look for yourself."

Ophelia looked through the pictures, recognizing Darryl's gray hoodie and black gloves. He seemed to be trashing a grave. That man's grave. Her optics squinted, noticing a small black point near the side of his hoodie.

It wasn't his hair. It didn't look like a curl. It seemed to point right out. She felt it in her stomach. Something definitely wasn't right. "Ok, thanks!" She rushed out, shoving the photos in his arms.

She entered the car. "Are you ok?" She nodded, a determined look on her face. "Yes, dad, I'm fine."

Ophelia didn't care if it was illegal. She was paying someone a visit.