PRISONERS

Chapter 21

• Chapter 21 •

Harry was taken for a few blood tests while I stayed in my bed, finishing writing my songs’ lyrics. I felt oddly calm, despite the circumstances and the way Harry made me feel earlier. My mind is an absolute mess of unsolved thoughts and theories, but I know that if I let myself overthink, I will collapse.

So, I put all my attention and effort on my song, humming the tune and thinking of only one person; Kayn. He will forever be stuck into my mind, my broken heart also, but I don't regret killing him. This is something, no matter how many times I try to explain to Cane, he always ends up with the same thing; “You've never really loved him, Rosie”.

But I did. I so fucking did love that man.

Once I was sure my song was perfectly done, a small smile came upon my lips. This is for Kayn, and although the lyrics aren't happy, this is something dedicated to him and means a lot.

Footsteps coming closer to my cell distracted me from my thoughts, making me look up to see Stephen walking towards me, a bored expression on his face. “What's up, craziness?” he said casually, pulling out the keys from his waistband.

“How are you still not dead?” I cocked a brow, assuming he was hiding the entire time the place was under chaos. I know he's not the most fearless officer in here, that's for sure.

He sent me a doom glare, “You ain't funny.” he shot coldly, unlocking the door and - to my surprise - stepping inside. “How's your nose?” he said, walking towards me.

“Fine.”

“And your hand?” he dragged the chair to the side before taking a seat across from me.

“Still working.” I lifted my bandaged hand in the air.

He tisked his tongue, “You're trying to get yourself killed before that day, right?” He asked monotonously, clasping his hands on his lap.

“What the fuck do you want, Steve?” I groaned, placing my notebook next to my side.

“Ooh, easy, I'm just trying to have a conversation.” He shrugged nonchalantly.

“You had four years to do that, now it's the time.”

“Why's that?”

“I have nothing to tell you.”

“Come on, I bet there have been times you wanted to punch me or—,“

“Like now.”

“—times you enjoyed my company, or times you just didn't want to see me at all—,“

“Now.”

“—Jesus, have I been that mean to you?” He gave me a confused look.

“Doesn't matter, I’ll be gone tomorrow.” I grumbled, lying on my back down on the bed.

“This is something I have always been wondering..” he started, lowering his voice so only I could hear him. I nodded, urging him to carry on. “How can you not be afraid?” he asked, his face softening drastically.

I tried to hide the shock that hit me from his question. I never really thought that Stephen had such thoughts about me. I never expected him to think of me for any reason than just as a ‘weight’ on the shoulders in this hellhole.

“Because I know it's what I deserve.”

“No shit,” he scoffed sarcastically, “How can you think of death and just...not be scared?” he looked at me curiously, still puzzled.