Page 52 of Snitches and Serpents

“That’s not how this works,” he says.

Then he gets up.

And leaves.

The door clicks shut behind him.

That awful sound sends a spike of fear through me. I suck in a shuddering breath, but the pressure on my chest is once more increasing.

Still seated on that hard chair by the metal table, I stare at the coffee stains on the white wall next to the door and focus on trying to breathe.

The clock ticks loudly into the dead silence.

And the hours drag on.

It feels as if someone has gripped both of my lungs and is squeezing them hard.

I’m going to be charged with vandalism. I’m going to have a criminal record. I’m going to get kicked out of Bercester U. My parents are going to hate me. My dad is never going to be able to look at me again. I will never be able to go into politics myself. I will never be able to get a good job. I won’t even be able to get a good degree.

Oh, God.

My future is?—

The door is abruptly pulled open.

I blink, snapping out of my spiraling panic and back to reality, as Officer Paulsen walks across the threshold. But he doesn’t return to the table. Instead, he stops two steps into the room and motions towards the door, which someone on the outside is holding open.

“You’re free to go.”

The words reach me, but I can’t seem to process them. Paulsen raises his eyebrows and shoots me a pointed look.

At last, his words finish echoing through my stunned mind. My mouth drops open.

“I am?” I blurt out.

“Yes. All charges against you have been dropped.”

I scramble up from my chair. I’m just about to ask him why he’s releasing me, but thankfully, I manage to stop myself before I can actually do it. The fact that he is letting me go is a miracle, and I’m not about to risk anything by asking stupid questions.

So instead, I dip my chin in a sign of respect and say, “Thank you.”

He says nothing. Only watches me with unreadable brown eyes as I walk past him.

I keep expecting him, or one of his colleagues, to stop me. To jump out in front of me and grab me. To tell me that it was just a cruel joke. But none of them do.

However, I still keep my mouth firmly shut and keep all my confused questions to myself. My entire body remains on high alert until I have finally walked out the front door and into the warm night beyond.

Then, and only then, do I dare to draw in a deep breath of relief.

It’s almost midnight, so the area around the police station is dark and quiet. Only the yellow pools of light from the streetlamps break up the blackness of night. I stagger a step forward, towards the road ahead.

My head is spinning. My nerves are raw. And my heart aches. This was the worst night of my life. I just want to sit down and bawl my eyes out and then sleep for a week. And then, after that, I want to break into Tristan’s room and rip it apart with my bare hands and then shove a knife into his heart.

God above, I don’t think I have ever been this utterly exhausted and this blindingly furious at the same time before.

“You’re welcome.”

I jump.

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