the end of the fucking world; season 2

three; alyssa

It's been two days.

My mum came to visit yesterday. She brought her prick of a husband. I told them both to fuck off. They listened. I hope she doesn't come back.

DC Noon told me she'd come back today. She says my trial is in a week and that I need to get my story straight. She said my mum had agreed to pay for a lawyer. I don't want one.

James told me to blame him. To say he kidnapped me. I am not doing that. He must think I'm fucking stupid or something.

I'm not going to be responsible for the boy I. . . love being locked away for any longer than he has to be. I'm not going to be responsible for that.

Sometimes I wonder whether he loved me too.

I wish we'd never broken into that house. Or, I wish I'd never broken into that house. It was all my fault. If I hadn't have done that, who knows, maybe James would only be facing a charge on theft - for the car. Now he's facing a murder charge.

I sigh, rubbing my tired eyes. I need to see him. I can't do this without knowing that he's okay.

The lock on the door suddenly rattles and someone opens it. DC Noon steps in, but this time, the door doesn't swing closed behind her. Another woman with dark skin and short hair walks in behind her, and I sit up straighter, as if taking a protective stance. I don't know this woman.

"Alyssa," says DC Noon. "This is DC Donoghue."

I stare at the woman and the woman stares back with a sour look on her face.

Well she looks like a fucking twat.

DC Noon sighs and pulls two seats from the corner of the room towards me. She takes one of them and DC Donoghue takes the other.

"We'd like to ask you a few questions, Miss Foley." DC Donoghue says in a dull voice, pulling out a pen and a notepad.

"If that's alright," DC Noon says.

"Well. . . it's not really." I say, the words leaving my mouth before I know it. I groan internally. Sometimes I think I'm a bitch, and other times I know I'm a bitch. DC Donoghue gives a threatening look and I roll my eyes dramatically. "Kidding."

"Can you tell us the story again, Alyssa? What happened?" DC Noon says in a calm voice.

I have the urge to snap something sarcastic back but I swallow it. She's been kind to me and I don't want to fuck it up. "Well. . . James and I decided to ran away, he punched his dad in the face, we stole his car, went for food without paying, set his dads car on fire, and broke into a mans house." I say quickly. DC Donoghue struggles to keep up and I smirk slightly.

DC Noon looks at me, prompting me. When I don't continue, she says, "Go on, Alyssa."

I take a shaky breath, trying to continue to appear confident. "The guy came home and tried to rape me, so James killed him. To stop him from raping me. . ." I trail off, popping my tongue carelessly. "And then we robbed a petrol station, but James didn't actually have a gun. He was just pretending."

DC Donoghue raises her eyebrows and I raise mine back.

"What?" I ask.

"How are we supposed to know James didn't have a gun?" She says, pulling a face at me.

"Because I'm telling you," I say, shrugging. "Anyway, that's what happened."

"Professor Koch has had many allegations made about him in the past but none of them were proven-"

My heart quickens in my chest. "Didn't you see the Polaroid's?" I ask.

"What Polaroid's?" Both the police officers ask in unison. They look at each other and then back to me.

"Th-the Polaroid's," I stutter. "Of the girls. We left them there. To show that he tried to hurt me." I finished my sentence in a hushed tone. A shiver runs down my spine at the thought of those photos. I'd seen some pretty gross things in my life but. . . wow."

DC Noon shoots out of her seat. "This changes things," she says to her colleague.

"Eunice-"

"No, it does, Teri!" She exclaims, rushing for the door and swinging it open. It slams against the door and I hear her boots clippity-clopping down the hall.

DC Donoghue sighs and her eyes meet with me for a split second. I could swear they soften, but just for a second, and then she stands up and follows DC Noon, locking the door behind her.

I let my head fall back against the wall hard, my vision wobbling. Looking up at the dirty ceiling, I count the bricks and trace the cracks.

Jesus, prison gets really fucking boring sometimes.