Page 195 of Broken Pieces
My chest aches, not from the pain, but from the emptiness suddenly sitting there.
The officer steps forward and grabs Zane’s arm.
Zane doesn’t fight.
He doesn’t look at us, just lets them lead him away, his silence louder than anything in this room.
I want to throw myself forward and wrap my arms around him, grab his face in my hands and force him to look at me.
I want him to see that I’m still here. That I’m not leaving. That I’ll fucking wait, however long it takes.
But my legs won’t move.
My body won’t listen.
My hands grip the edge of the bench, knuckles white, nails digging into wood, trying to hold on to something before I completely fall apart.
Because this isn’t fucking justice.
This is punishment for loving someone the world decided wasn’t worth saving.
Then he’s gone.
The door swings shut behind him with a dull thud, and that sound settles in my chest heavier than any sentence ever could.
The courtroom clears out, row by row. Spectators rise, having witnessed a performance. They got their resolution. Now, their hushed conversations dissipate, their footsteps reverberate, fading into silence.
It’s just me, Rainer, and Cassie left sitting in the middle of it all.
Cassie remains silent.
Rainer leans forward, elbows on his knees, head down.
And I’m still frozen in place.
For the first time since Zane found me outside that library, I have no idea of what comes next.
I’m sitting in the visiting room of the prison, and everything about it makes my skin crawl.
The overhead lights buzz constantly, too bright, too white, casting shadows under the eyes of every person waiting here.
The tables and chairs are bolted to the floor, arranged in straight lines. Each one is waiting for some version of heartbreak.
I sit at one of them, hands folded in my lap, heart pounding so loud it’s all I can hear.
Other people wait too. Mothers with tired eyes, girlfriends with fresh makeup, kids shifting in their seats, not fully understanding what this place is. It’s not a place built for comfort.
I don’t know how Zane breathes in here.
It’s been a week.
Seven long, dragging days since Zane was sentenced. Since they told me the next chapter of our lives would be written behind these bars.
This is the first time he has been allowed to have visitors. And only one person can come.
Rainer told me to go. Said he’d see Zane in a few days, that this one needed to be mine.
I’m not sure I believe that.
