THE NEWS of Hanna being caught with gun that possibly killed hit the town very fast. That was nothing new about the gossips spreading so fast in Rosewood.
Brooklyn's hand hovered over the phone, her heart racing as she stared at the screen. It was Hanna, and the time of the call was unusual. She took a deep breath, her pulse echoing in her ears, and swiped to answer. "Hey, did they let you go?" she asked, her voice a mix of hope and trepidation.
Hanna's voice was shaky, almost a whisper. "Yeah, I am home. But they said... i could get seven years." The silence between them was as thick as the fog outside, each word hanging in the air like a heavy weight.
Brooklyn felt her throat tighten. "Seven years? For what?" She couldn't believe it. Her mind raced, trying to piece together what could have led to such a severe sentence. She knew Hanna had been in some trouble before, but this was beyond anything she had ever imagined.
"They think... they think I had something to do with it," Hanna replied, her voice trembling. "A concealed weapon, tampering with evidence... and they're even talking about... about murder." The words hung in the air, stark and cold.
Brooklyn's eyes widened in shock. "But you didn't kill him," she said firmly, her voice a declaration of belief. The room felt smaller, as if the walls had drawn closer, the gravity of the situation pressing down on her.
"They don't know that," Hanna replied, her tone filled with a resignation that scared Brooklyn. "And even if I didn't, I...I am ruining mom's and yours life, it' has to count as something "
Brooklyn's mind raced as she searched for a way to convince Hanna of her innocence. "Listen to me, Hanna," she said, her voice firm. "You need to tell your parents about A. This isn't just about you anymore. They're going to think you're guilty of something you didn't do, and they need to know the truth."
Hanna took a deep, shuddering breath. "I can't," she whispered. "It doesn't matter if my mom pulled the trigger." The words were barely audible, but they hit Brooklyn like a sledgehammer.
"Your mom didn't do it Hanna" Brooklyn's voice was a hoarse whisper, her hand tightening around the phone. The room had gone still, the only sound the faint hum of the streetlight outside.
"I know," Hanna said, the words a barely-there confession. "But she was there, and she's not saying anything." A pause, then, "Brooke, I'm scared."
Brooklyn's stomach twisted into a knot. "I know," she said, her voice softer now. "But you can't take this all on yourself. You need to tell someone."
