Not a Monster Anymore (Double Crossed Book 2)

Chapter 9

When I come to, I squint my eyes open at the light in the room, in contrast to the darkness I'd been staring through during my sleep-like state. I'm sitting on something, most probably a chair, and a few blurry figures in front of me are identifiable as people.

"He's waking up," one of them mumbles.

I grit my teeth at them, opening my eyes fully despite my earlier discomfort. "Where is Dib?" are the first words out of my mouth.

"In the hospital," comes the response, causing me to straighten up in shock.

"Oh god," I groan. "What happened to him?"

The humans give me cold looks. The one who's been talking answers, "You should know. You're the one who injured him."

My pulse quickens. Oh no. Oh no oh no oh no. The pressure, the low laughing, that strange feeling, the sickening cracks. Keef.

"What about Keef?" As much as I despise him, I would hate to think that I did anything bad, though based on what happened with Dib, I can only guess that the outcome isn't exactly peachy.

"He didn't make it," the humans grunts, staring at me with disgust. "You threw him with enough force at a hard enough surface, and all it took was him landing the wrong way."

I try to lower my head to hold it in my hands, but in the process, I find that my arms are restrained, with what feels like handcuffs. A look around shows me that we're in some sort of vehicle. They're taking me somewhere.

"Where are we going?" I lean back, trying to lessen the strain on my wrists from the cuffs.

"A juvenile detention center. You've been given a life sentence for first degree murder."

Ooh, life sentence doesn't sound good for a being who lives hundreds of years. "A life sentence?" I ask, hoping for more information.

"Didn't you learn this is school?" They sound very skeptical.

"I must have missed that lesson," I say hotly, my response dangerously close to a hiss.

"Twenty-five years, kid. You got twenty-five years."

Still too long. "I thought children were supposed to be given lesser punishments." Technically, I'm not a child, but I need to get out and have access to my labs so that I can fix these malfunctions that brought me here and hurt Dib.

"You're charged with second degree murder. What you committed was first degree murder. That's as lenient as we're gonna be." He crosses his arm in disapproval.

The vehicle screeches to a halt, and I'm taken out the handcuffs to be able to stand up, though my freedom is short-lived, as they replace the cuffs as soon as I've gotten my footing. I run through my mind, thinking of any information that could benefit me.

Good behavior is rewarded in these facilities. If I follow their protocol, I have a better chance of getting out early. Murder is just about the worst crime you can commit here on Earth, though, so I'm not sure how much influence it'll have. Regardless, I don't fight against their restraint as they lead me toward a cement building.

We reach a small room, and they command me to give them my clothing, handing me an orange jumpsuit. "This seems excessive for a prison for children," I say, eyeing the suit.

"This lets the other youths know that you're in here for a serious crime. You'll see others wearing regular clothing. You don't get that luxury. Now, hand over that suit." They make a gesture with their hand, like a child begging someone to buy them a treat. "A shame you have to give it to us. By the time you're out it probably won't fit anymore."