The Innocent ↝ ÉLITE ¹

TWENTY TWO

CHAPTER TWENTY TWO
Enough

ARLO HAD BEEN staring at her ceiling for hours. Sleep no longer came easy to her. In fact, for the past few days she had just gotten in bed for the sake of it and not because she intended on sleeping.

She forced herself to sit up when the sun finally started to peak through her blinds. She went over to her dresser and sat in front of it, her reflection staring back at her. The girl swallowed, she looked a mess. She hadn't brushed her hair for days or went through her daily skin routine. She pretty much looked like a zombie, but that was the least of her worries.

She got up and opened her bedroom door to reveal some oranges that Diego had left by her door. The corner of her lips pulled upwards slightly, but not quite a smile as she picked up the oranges and put them with the bananas he left her the day before.

Diego had no idea what happened. Arlo didn't know how to explain it to him. How do you explain death to a 5-year old? How do you explain murder to a 5-year old?

She quietly padded down the stairs. The house was quiet. She was the only one awake. She went to the kitchen and ate some breakfast. When she was done she was walked back into the living room and saw her parents' hand carry by the dining table. The two had arrived last night. When they heard about Marina, they had gotten on the first flight out. Yes, they had their flaws but even Arlo couldn't deny how attentive and selfless they had been by coming home much earlier than planned.

Alma, however, had went into Arlo's room as soon as she arrived and just sat with her, hugging her tightly as she cried and that's when both her parents arrived home. Arlo quickly wiped her tears and greeted them, the two of them squeezing their daughter tightly as Esme cried. They had debated pulling her and Izzy out of Las Encinas to another prestigious school in England, but Arlo told them the best thing was to stay and that Marina had gotten a lot of people angry before she died.

Arlo jogged back to her room. As she closed the door behind her, she noticed the strapped black dress hanging on her wardrobe and she swallowed. Today was the wake and she wasn't even sure she had the energy for it. But she knew that however bad she was feeling, Guzmán and his parents were feeling worse. No matter what, she had to be there for him.

She slumped down on the floor, leaning her back against her front door as she drew her knees up to her chest and wrapped her arms around them. She stared blankly at her messy bed as she lightly hit her head on the door behind her. Tears pricked the corner of her eyes as the sound of Marina's arm falling replayed in her head. She squeezed her eyes shut. Marina wasn't just dead. She was murdered.

Arlo had tried to think and figure out who had killed her but she was no detective and even if she was, practically everyone she knew had a motive to want to hurt Marina– she had one too. She grew angry. Someone who she probably knew and spoke to had killed her friend– the girl she had grown up with, had sleepovers with and talked all night with. And Arlo was never going to be able to do that again.

Arlo couldn't stop seeing the look of suspicion in the detective's eyes as she held up her heels, probably thinking she was guilty. And she was. Just not of murder. Arlo knew it didn't look good, but she'd have to worry about that the day of questioning.

She hadn't told anyone she was the one who found Marina– not Guzmán, not Ander, not Izzy, not Alma, no one. She was afraid they'd doubt her, considering her heels were at the police station at that very moment and she didn't need the people she cared about most thinking she was a murderer.

It was when Esme called for her to start getting ready that she realised she had been sitting in the same place for hours, staring at the same spot, trying to make sense of things.