Journal from jail

I was cruel but so was everyone else

The same lady officer who escorted me from the crime scene a month ago put me back in the handcuffs. They were a lot more uncomfortable this time because she had put them on far too tight. I could feel the metal digging into my skin.

And just like the night I commuted my crime the officer led me past my parents and my mum started to cry. I looked down at my shoes and for just a split second I remembered the crowbar dropping to the ground with a 'thump'. Now I was tearing up. I looked at my mum and she buried her head into my dads chest again just like the night of my crime.
They asked the officer for a moment alone with me to say goodbye. Reluctantly she released me from the handcuffs and nodded her head in agreement. "Five minutes" she told my parents pointing the watch on her wrist. When she left my parents practically crushed me in a hug. Now they were both crying. My heart dropped and maybe even stopped for a second when I thought 'what will Lilly think of me now?' I asked my parents what they were planning on telling Lilly. "The truth" they said. "That you did this to protect her and that it wasn't her fault."
I wiped away a tear. Dad slipped me a journal and made me promise to write. The officer came back to the room and told us that our time was up. She put me back in my handcuffs and walked me out.
Outside there were lots of people; news reporters, schoolmates, and strangers. Well I guess I can't call them strangers all of them had a familiar face just not one that I knew personally. They were all yelling at me, calling me awful things.

Okay I get it your friend is dead and it's my fault but don't you think I feel bad enough???

"Bastard!" Someone yelled as they threw a small handful of rocks at me.
An officer then went to talk to the man who then yelled " What now you're protecting a murderer!?!"
That word I thought, don't say that word.

I kept thinking about Lilly, what would she think of me? In my mind there were only to ways this could turn out. 1) she would be proud of me for protecting her or 2) hate me for what I have done. And never talk to me again.
The officer (a different lady) who was walking me to the police car saw the small journal still in my hand. "Unless that's a bible you're not keeping that. Give it here." I held on to it harder, she spun me around. How could I have been so oblivious, this officer was deputy Carter Kaels mother.