Imprisonment | Harry Styles

Chapter 8

Riley.

I was barely surviving. The thought of the trials and Harry, that is. There was no way I was able to talk to him, he flat out scared me to death and acted as if he wanted to rip my guts out every time he spoke to me. It was merely impossible to have even a delicate conversation with him.

"Mrs. Conrad."

It was about the seventh time I had zoned out into my own thoughts that day. Mr. Locke had said my name over and over, but here I was in my own little world. Just thinking.

"Are you prepared for this afternoon? Is everything in order?" He asked, throwing questions at me left and right. Questions that I simply did not want to answer.

All I could do was agree. "Yes, I'm ready." I swallowed, "but I'm not ready enough to do it this afternoon."

Mr. Locke's eyebrows furrowed, a look of complete confusion on his face. "What do you mean you're not ready? This has been planned ever since Harry's been brought into this jail."

Sighing, I nodded. "I'm aware. But I'm not prepared to do this. I just need more time, you can't just expect me to-"

"--Mrs. Conrad," Locke interrupted immediately, "I understand that this topic makes you uneasy to talk about. But you can't hide from this forever; meaning that it's all gonna have to unravel one day. Therefore, I expect to see you in that court office today with Mr. Brian Mathews," I gulped when he used my lawyer's full name. "Now if you'll excuse me, I have some duties to attend." He arose from his chair and walked out of the room, leaving me rather speechless.

I wasn't normally a nervous person. But right now I had never, ever, been more nervous for something. I even found myself biting at my nails, my breathing a little louder than it normally is. I was nervous beyond words for this trial. I was simply a wreck. And no matter how hard I tried, there was no way I could get out of this one.

+++

"We're just going to ask him simple questions, Riley. Just about the night of the murder and we'll see where it goes from there." Brian, my lawyer, informed me for about the third time. He could clearly see my nerves right through my makeup and fake smile.

I nodded, letting him know that I understood this time. "Okay."

"We'll be starting in about five minutes, you both might want to go ahead and go out there." A cop that was unknown to me told us.

Those 'five minutes' went by like seconds. Everyone, including the crowd and judge and many police officers, were already in here. I felt as if my heart was going to burst right out of my chest.

The noise level died down immediately as two cops escorted Harry out to the judgment stand. He looked so tired, so weak and sick. It was obvious he wasn't doing well, I knew he had been beaten again this morning. Who knows by what, but it was obviously by something.

I found myself propping my cheek on my hand, attempting to stay awake. The trial was boring, it was just simple yes or no questions. Harry was staring at me the whole time even though Brian was the one speaking to him. His eyes never left my droopy ones that were begging for sleep.

"And where were you before the murder?" Brian asked, making my eyes open back up. I began to listen as the questions got a little more interesting.

Harry shrugged, "Home. I think."

"Where do you live?" Brian asked, walking back and forth.

"I don't believe that has anything to do with the trial. Riley, why don't you tell your little lawyer to stop being a creep." Harry said, a little flustered as his eyes pierced into mine.

I swallowed down a lump in my throat and gave him a stern look that clearly meant 'stop it'. Harry rolled his eyes at my behavior and turned his attention back to Brian.

"What made you decide you wanted to kill Riley Conrad's mother?" Brian asked, changing the whole house topic and jumping right onto an important question.

Harry moved around a little, his fists clenching and I could see his veins a little in his arms. He pulled at his wrists a little, wanting the cuffs that were wrapped around him to be off.

"I didn't kill her mother." He spoke up, earning a few murmurs in the crowd.

"Care to explain all the fingerprints left behind? Or... this?" I turned to look at Brian, noticing he was holding up a plastic bag with a pack of Marlboro cigarettes inside.

"Yeah, that's mine. But it was stolen from me by the real killer." Harry replied, I couldn't help but notice how his feet were tapping nervously even though his ankles were cuffed.

"Oh really? So why didn't we find any other fingerprints on the scene except yours, Mr. Styles?" Brian asked, pacing back and forth slowly in front of Harry.

"Guess you guys didn't look hard enough then," Harry smirked. I mentally punched myself at his annoying sarcasm. It annoyed me to no end, and I'm sure everyone here thought the same.

"Harry you might want to stop being s difficult. If you're not going to cooperate with us then we'll just schedule another trial next week," the judge said sternly.

"Okay, fine with me. I'm the one telling the truth here," Harry responded flatly. He had a frightening look on his face.

"Unfortunately, that answer was incorrect anyway, Mr. Styles. We'll see you again next week." Brian said, added with a sigh. As soon as the words left his mouth, the room began shifting around as people rose from their seats and exited.

"You wanna know what I think?" Harry asked, teeth gritted at Brian. I was ready to leave, I didn't want to see what was about to happen.

Brian stood his ground, and people began halting their movements as they turned to look at Harry and waited for any sudden words to fall from his plump lips.

"The answer is not incorrect, it's fucking correct." Harry's eyes grew dark and his jaw line popped out a little more than it usually does, clearly obvious he was clenching his teeth violently.

Brian's eyes grew slightly wide in that moment, unable to answer right away. Harry smirked as he looked down in his lap, clearly proud of himself.

It was then when the police officers broke their lineup and began walking swiftly toward Harry, bringing each of their large beating sticks out of their pockets.

"YOU'RE ALL BLOODY INCORRECT! I KNOW WHAT HAPPENED, YOU IDIOTS KNOW NOTHING!" Harry shouted suddenly, trying to yank back on the cuffs in which his wrists were attached to. Harry's whimpers and low grunts filled the room as the cops crowded a circle around him, and it was obvious they were beating him with the sticks.

"That'll teach him a lesson not to argue with the facts." Brian said lowly into my ear, Harry's yelps echoing the whole room as people stood on their tip-toes to get a glance at the sight.

I let out a shaky sigh as his deep raspy voice was filled with just pain. It was not only audible, but it was plain obvious.

"Are they even allowed to do this in front of all these people? This is horrible, Brian." I spoke up, turning to look at Brian who was watching the whole show intently. "These people shouldn't be seeing this."

"Well he deserves it. He can't talk back to us like that and lie like that," he replied.

I wanted to argue and speak up, but I couldn't. I knew if I did I would just be told I was wrong. All I could do was watch the scene unravel in front of me and hope that Harry would get through this beating like he has the other ones.

a/n: yoooooooo thanks so much for all the nice reviews I've received! hope you enjoy the chapter :)