***Your POV***
I lazily sprawl out over the bed, searching for Baxter's warmth. I frown when I feel his side of the bed cold and empty. He had recently got a new job at a women's prison, crazy, I know. I told him it was crazy when he spoke to me about it, but he said "the job fit him". I sigh and sit up, the cool air hitting my exposed legs. A shiver runs through my body as I reach for my sweat pants and I put my hair into a very messy bun.
"Baxter? Are you here?" I call through the house, silently hoping he would take the day off today.
No answer.
I groan and slowly get up, walking to the kitchen, looking for food. I find a note reading:
Dear (Y/N),
I'm off to work early today. Please don't worry. I love you, xoxo
-Baxter
I frown once more. He'd been going off to work early and coming home late. But he did work at a prison, so the hours were probably weird, but to be honest, I had the right to worry we'd been dating for three and a half years. I sigh and grab an apple, not feeling very hungry. I plop down on the couch, getting ready for my 3rd lazy day this week. Maybe I should do something? Go to the store maybe? Yeah, the store sounds good. I walk to me and Baxter's shared bathroom, hoping in the shower.
***
After my I shower and get dressed I throw on my vans, and put my hair into a very messy bun, not caring at all what I looked like. I look around for the keys to my car for a while, but to no avail. They were nowhere to be seen.
"Shit, where are they?" I say, looking in Baxter's drawers, thinking he might've accidentally placed them in there, he's usually tired when he gets home from work.
"Oh my fucking god." I say, my hand flying over my mouth. Tears started streaming down my face.
Underwear. Lingerie to be precise.
"Hey, (Y/N)! I forgot somethi- shit... (Y/N) it isn't what it looks like, I promise." He says I turn around, the baggie of panties in my hand.
"What the actual fuck, Baxter? You're gonna try to make something up to make this," I point to the baggie "make sense?!" I scream, tears still streaming down my face. "Well, fuck you! Fuck you, Baxter! I hate you! No, actually, I hate myself for wasting almost 4 years of my life on someone who still puts X's and O's on his letters like a 6th grader! Well, guess what, Baxter! X's and O's mean nothing to me! I wanted real passion! I wanted to feel something. But I must've been an idiot thinking that someone who's nickname is Gerber could make me feel something, for god's sake!" I scream, knowing the neighbors could surely hear, but in all honesty, I didn't give two shits about that. "I'm done Baxter, you can have your goddamn panties back. I'm leaving." I start to pack all the things I can fit into my bag. "Where the fuck are my keys." I say and he digs into his pockets and hands them to me, not saying a word. I snatch them away.
"(Y/N), wait! The panties belong to women at the prison, I'm selling them." He says as I'm walking out the door. I stop in my tracks and turn on my heels.
"You're fucking disgusting, Baxter" I walk out, slamming the door behind me, not looking back. I know if I looked back it would kill me and I would just run back to him. I couldn't do that. I couldn't. Tears were streaming down my face as I got into my car, looking at the picture of me and him stuck onto the rear mirror. I grab it and rip it up.
"Fuck!" I yell as I slam my hands down on the steering wheel, loud sobs pouring out of my mouth, jumbling up with the word. I start up my car and drive to the nearest liquor store. I would solve this problem just like I'm used to.
***
I woke up in a hospital bed with cops surrounding me. "Ms. (Y/L/N)? NYPD," the officer holds up her badge "you've hurt yourself and 3 others in an accident involving a drunk driving incident, you're due in court in 4 day's time to face trial." She says no more and turns to leave.
4 days later
I walk into the court room, looking around. This was all so unusual. I had never been in this situation, I had never done anything illegal. I saw Baxter, who looked at me with hurt and worry in his eyes. I had to look away, it killed me to even think about that day, all the screaming and yelling. But it was his fault, selling women's panties in his drawer, for gods sake?! No, none of that was my fault.
"Ms. (Y/L/N), what happened on the night of January 3rd 2015? Where were you between 9:47 to 10:28?"
I decided I would try to keep myself from getting into anymore trouble and just told the truth. I knew what I had done.
"Driving, your honor."
"And you were under the influence of alcohol, yes?" the judge said, writing something down.
"Yes, your honor." I knew what would happen. I couldn't stop it, no matter what I said.
"And we're you aware that you had hit three other people and had killed two?" She questioned
Killed? I was shocked, I couldn't speak, I chocked on my words; they came out as incoherent jumbles.
"Ms. (YLN)? I need you to answer." I violently shook my head no.
"N-no, your honor"
"Ms. (YLN), you're going to prison for 3 1/2 years for manslaughter in the first degree." She slammed down her mallet "case closed" she said as everybody in the court stood up. I was still shocked, I couldn't move. How could this have happened. Baxter came to me and said those words that made me want to scream.
"Guess we'll have plenty of time to talk then, 3 years is a lot of time. Guess you'll have to waste almost another 4 years of your life with me, huh?"
