Page 40 of Redemption
“I said enough!” I shouted without meaning to.
She retreated into herself, trembling. Her legs gave out as she covered her face with her hands, but I held her and lowered her to the ground, then put my forehead against hers. ”We have nothing to worry about. Just trust me, I’ll take care of this.”
"But we do,” she cried out, reeling back away from me “I knew this would happen. I knew it." Her accusation hung in the air like a thick fog, hot and suffocating. The morning sun streamed into my ruined office, the chaotic aftermath glinting a harsh reality. She wasn't wrong, she did predict this after all, if was being honest.
“Sophia, listen, I know this seems bad?—"
“Seems bad?” she said before burying her face in her hands again.
“Just listen. You have to trust me to take care of this. In a few weeks, this will just be a bad memory with no weight to it.”
Her lip quivered, and another tear streamed down her face. She wiped it away and stared at me like I was an idiot. “What the fuck does that even mean?”
I sighed as her face twisted into expressions I never wanted to see: resentment, sadness, weakness, hatred. She wiped another tear, then stared at me as if I betrayed her somehow.
“Look, I don’t know who did this. Obviously, you do. So are you going to tell me what’s going on or not? Was this because of the fucking money we stole?”
My eyes darted toward the open door, down the long empty hallway. “Be quiet” I said through clenched teeth as I ran a hand through my hair. “First of all, we didn’t steal any money. But no, it’s not because of that. The man in the video footage, that was my brother, Damien.”
She stood and backed away from me. Shaking her head in confused anger. “I can’t handle this right now. I’m going to Emma’s house.”
“Sophia.” I took a step toward her and grabbed her wrist. She ripped it away.
“Don’t. Don’t follow me.”
I watched her walk down the long dark hallway again, but this time, she didn’t cry.
Sophia
Isat with Emma on her twin bed in her parents' house. Moonlight trickled through the thin curtains, casting veiny shadows across us. Her wide eyes stared at me in disbelief as I told her everything.
"I can't believe it," Emma whispered, looking more pale than usual. Her gaze darted to the window, as if expecting to see Gabriel standing there.
The knot in my stomach tightened. The small beach town I grew up in felt dangerous and foreign for the first time I could remember. Her room was the only place that grounded me now, but I couldn't stay here forever.
"I know you said it wasn't an option, but I think you have to tell the police," Emma said, her blue eyes holding an insistence that made me feel hopeful for a moment, as if telling them would solve everything.
"I can't," I replied, running my hands down my arms as if I could physically wipe away the fear clinging to me.
We sat in silence for a while, listening to the crickets outside. Emma's vanilla-scented candle burned away in the corner, casting flickering shadows that danced on the wall.
I curled up under a blanket and laid down. “It was all too good to be true. I knew something bad would happen. I'm such an idiot.”
Emma looked over at me, her blond hair catching the silvery moonlight. "Don't say that, Sophia. You're not an idiot." She reached over and gave my shoulder a gentle squeeze, her fingers warm against my skin.
“I just...I don’t know what to do, Emma,” I admitted, tears welling up in my eyes. "I feel stuck."
"We have options," she replied, her voice steady and reassuring as always. "We just have to figure out what they are and take it one step at a time."
The candle crackled in the corner, drawing from the last of its wax. “I feel so trapped, like I can't even leave this room.”
Emma smirked, then stood up and went to her closet, rustling through clothes on hangers. I sat up and pulled the covers over my shoulders. “What are you doing?” She didn’t respond. “Emma?” She returned from the closet with two revealing dresses and tossed one to me.
“You are finally going to the club with me!”
I blinked at her, my brain struggling to process her words. "The club? You’re joking, right?" I shook my head, wiping a tear with one hand, clutching the slinky red dress she'd thrown at me with the other. "Emma, this is the absolute worst time to go out. I can't."
As if she didn't hear me, she wore a determined look as she stood in front of her mirror, pulling her messy bun down and letting her wavy hair fall freely over her shoulders. The reflection showed a confident woman with fire in her eyes, even though she only wore a set of flannel pajamas.
