Choose Me, Love Me

Part 17

Grays POV
Being booked at the police station this time felt different from when I was arrested at fourteen. The first time, I was alone, scared, and clueless. This time, I had Jude and Peyton with me. They'd gotten me a lawyer, and we were going through the motions, trying to figure out if I was eligible for bail. Everything moved so fast that I barely remember half of what happened. It was all a blur of paperwork, questions, and officers moving around me like I wasn't even there.

Jude didn't leave my side, and for a little while, I let myself hope that maybe this nightmare would end, that I'd get to go home. But that hope shattered when the prosecutor asked for no bail, saying I was a flight risk.

That's when I cracked.

I'd never once tried to run away. I'd never caused any real trouble, but they dug up the one time I was put in solitary—back when I accidentally headbutted another inmate. It was stupid, an accident, but now it was being used to paint me like I was dangerous, like I didn't belong anywhere but behind bars.

I had cried so much over the last few hours that by now, I couldn't feel anything anymore. I was just numb. The kind of numb where your body's there, but your mind is somewhere else, floating above everything, disconnected.

Before I knew it, Jude and Peyton were giving me kisses on the forehead, telling me they'd see me tomorrow, that they loved me. I knew they meant it, but the words felt far away, like I was hearing them through a fog. I couldn't even muster a smile to show them I was okay—because I wasn't. How could I be?

How did this happen? What did I do to deserve this? Just when I started to feel comfortable, to trust that maybe things were finally turning around, it was like life decided to shit on me again. Why? Why am I even here, living this life, when this is what I get?

I missed my bed, missed Jack, missed Buddy—my lion, my only real comfort when things got too much. But they took him from me again, just like last time. I knew better than to ask for it back. And the thumb-sucking... I knew that wasn't something I could do here. Not without getting my ass kicked. But it's something I can't help when the world is crashing down around me.

They handed me a jumpsuit, then transferred me to a guard I instantly recognized—Brody. The one who'd made my life hell the last time I was in juvie.

As soon as he saw me, his lips twisted into a smirk. "Knew you'd be back, you little shit. Now, I don't want any crying or that other shit you're prone to do, or I'll throw you in solitary and won't give two fucks."

I shivered, but I tried to hide it. Brody never liked the fact that I had accidents, or that I needed special attention because of my seizures. He got some sick enjoyment out of making our lives hell, thinking we deserved it because, in his eyes, we were all just worthless delinquents.

He shoved me into my cell, hard enough that I stumbled. "Say something, kid," he snapped, gripping his baton like he couldn't wait to use it.

"Yes," I muttered, barely above a whisper.

"Yes, what?" he sneered, leaning in closer.

"Yes, sir," I managed, my voice trembling.

He grinned like he'd won some kind of game. "That's right. Remember your place."

The bars clanged shut behind me, and I stood there for a moment, staring at the cold, empty cell. My chest tightened with panic, and I felt my body start to shut down, the exhaustion and fear taking over.

I made my bed, though my hands were shaking too much to do a good job of it. I curled up on the thin mattress, facing the wall, trying to hide the tears that started to fall again. My thumb found its way to my mouth, and I didn't stop it this time. I needed something, anything, to hold on to.