Clove was still out of it, being stuffed into the back of the Peacekeepers car came as no surprise. Of course, there was a fire so it had to have been the psycho Clove who killed her own mother and tried to kill her father. The truth was, her father killed her mother, and she defended herself when he tried to molest her. But in 2, the truth didn’t matter when something just as scandalous would suffice. Clove bowed her head and let her hair fall over her shoulders, and she nearly karate chopped Cato when he was shoved into the cruiser with her. What was he doing here?
He was trying to help her? Why the hell would he try to help her? Her brain was still foggy and her ears were ringing. She looked at her hands and noticed how they had stopped shaking, but they were still clammy and nearly blue from how cold she had gotten. It was amazing what fear could do to people.
The next thing she knew, she was being shoved into a small cell. She turned around to protest, but someone was thrust in behind her, and her face made contact with someone’s chest.
“Damn it Cato!” Clove spat at him, and sat down on the floor beside the bars, rubbing her nose. Clove purposely looked in the opposite direction of Cato, willing him not to ask her what happened. But, when did Cato ever listen to her in the first place?
“What happened to you back there?” he asked her, and she heard him moving around behind her. “What do you think happened? I obviously somehow was in two places at once and started the fire to try to kill people, just like how I killed my mom.” She spat back at him, and she knew that the venom of her words were a shock. She had never ever been so rude and sarcastic to anyone before, and she had never said aloud what everyone had suspected.
“But you didn’t start the fire…” Cato reasoned, and Clove turned around with hellfire in her eyes. “You’re damn right I didn’t start this fire! I’ve never started a fire in my life! I didn’t kill my mother either… but why would you care…” Clove hunched back over on the floor and let her chin rest on her knees. It was pointless for Cato to keep pressing the point, if they hadn’t confiscated her jacket she would have taken her knife out of her jacket with her teeth and stabbed him in the jugular for having the nerve to ask her about her past.
Ten minutes later, a heavy and overset man came waddling down the hall towards the cellar, his keys jingling on his belt. Behind him came a man in his mid-fifties, with thinning blonde hair and blue eyes in a grey suit.
“Dad?” Came a startled voice behind her, and Clove visibly jumped. She had almost forgotten that Cato was there.
This was his father? Clove peered closer as the two of them approached the cellar, and Mr. Mars said nothing as the guard unlocked the door and hoisted Cato to his feet. “Let’s go boy…” The guard told him, and Cato didn’t realize what was going on until the guard slammed the door behind Cato, leaving Clove behind.
She stood up, taking her hands and trying to pry the door open. “Let me out!” Clove told the guard, and Cato began to fight to get free. “Let her go! Let her go damn it! You saw the tape, didn’t you?!”
“Yes, we did see the tape. That’s why Miss Enfer is staying in lock up pending her trial of smuggling a deadly weapon not only to school, but to a public area and the threat of killing three students. Three cases of attempted murder.”
Clove’s jaw nearly hit the floor, and it took three other Guards to drag Cato all the way down the hall and away from Clove, and she sat down on the bench. She was caught, cornered, and all alone. No one was going to come and get her, to rescue her. If Cato couldn’t do it, then no one could. He was the only one who remotely gave a shit about Clove in any way shape or form, and that wasn’t saying much.
So all in all, she was fucked.
