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Elaina Basset

Fuck.

Fuck.

Fuck.

I've been in a holding cell for twenty minutes. I'm sitting on a rickety old bench drilled into the wall, my fingers gripping the edge as anxiety trickles through my blood.

Arrested for murder.

Harry is across from me, in a separate cell. There's been a guard in here the entire time so we haven't been able to talk to each other.

I keep looking at him though, and he will almost always be looking at me already.

There's an anxious ringing in my ears and a gong going off in my head. I cant think straight, I'm so scared.

Do the guys and Angela and Bianca know what happened? What about Vincent? Is he going to be mad that we got arrested? If we don't end up going to jail, are we going to be killed?

Isaac. Does Isaac know where I am? Is he calling me like crazy?

Harry and I weren't even arrested under our real names. I cant imagine what will happen when they find out that we were using aliases. This whole situation was so messy and out of our control completely.

The phone on the guards desk begins to ring, he picks it up and brings it to his ear. He begins speaking in Italian, I can't understand what is being said.

It's a short conversation, and when he puts the phone down, he looks at Harry and I.

"I'll be back." he says in a thick accent, standing from his desk. "Don't think of trying anything dumb. We have cameras." he says.

I see Harry peer up at the spot where this camera was, in the upper left corner. He looks for a mere second and then back down, watching as the guard leaves.

The metal door slams shut, leaving Harry and I in our cells across from each other. My eyes are immediately on him.

"Harry—"

"We're getting out of here." he says, sounding so sure of it that I almost felt relief. Almost.

"H-how?" my voice breaks. "We can't break out of a jail..."

"We won't have to. We'll get bailed out before then." he tells me. "But I need you to listen to me, okay?"

I swallow and nod nervously.

"They're going to take both of us in for questioning...separately." he says, my heart dropping.

"W-what? I can't..."

"You'll be okay." he says, standing against the bars. "You didn't kill him, remember? I did. So when they ask you questions, you have the right not to answer."

I blink and look down at my feet momentarily, shaking my head in disbelief that this was really happening. I flick my head back up to Harry's direction.

"And what about you?" I say. "What will you tell them?"

"Don't worry about me." he responds bluntly.

My brows furrow. "Harry—"

"I've been arrested before. I know how to handle cops."

I don't know if he's telling the truth, or if he's saying this just to keep me calm.

My leg is bouncing, my skin around my nails is picked raw to the point where my fingers ache. And if my fingers weren't picking at my skin, they'd be toying with my necklace. I just can't help but think of all the bad outcomes. And even if I try to think of the good ones, there aren't many.

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