Page 63 of Cruel Charming Psychos (Necessary Evils 2)

NICK

Home is wherever you make it. Sometimes, we find home in other people, like they become our safe place. Home today is a cell. Dark and musky with a barred window that promises there’s still a world outside but is really just a reminder that it’s the only light I’ll ever see.

I hated Addison when she turned me down. I suppose that makes me fragile, like I can’t accept rejection in any form. There’s a monster in me, a rage I can’t shake no matter how hard I try. I thought briefly about pushing her over the railing and into the sea. That’s why I had to get away from her as fast as I could.

But I didn’t do it. I didn’t shoot her. I didn’t leave her to die on the icy shores of the beach. Nobody believes me. I fully get it. I understand it. Guilt, though, has become something else. If I felt the urge to hurt her, if I thought about it, then this is my punishment. Framed for a crime I didn’t commit.

Addison is alive though. Someday, hopefully soon, she will wake up from the coma. When she does, she can clear my name. That’s assuming she remembers. I’m not a doctor. I don’t understand the specifics of it, but from what I’ve heard, amnesia is oftentimes a symptom of brain trauma. They say she stopped breathing for at least five minutes. That’s just hearsay, though.

They came for me that night, before I even knew what happened. The police barged into my home, handcuffed me in a confused blur, and dragged me to the precinct where they interrogated me for hours. She was shot with my gun. My handprints were on her. The cameras on the main drag confirmed I was at the scene of the crime. The tracks of my tires were burned into the icy road from when I sped away as fast as I could.

The only person that can prove my innocence is sleeping and she might never wake up. Mother has disowned me again, which means she too is alone in this world. Maybe it’s what we all deserve. Haven’t heard from Emily in weeks. I had hoped she would give me the benefit of the doubt, but her silence is deafening.

I sit stretched out on my bed that’s made of steel and a flimsy layer of cushion that might as well not even be there. There’s no comfort. No privacy. At least I have the privilege of occupying a private cell, but that’s only because I was attacked by my first cellmate. He’d carved a toothbrush into a shank. As it turns out, being the son of one of the richest men in the world has put a bounty on my head. Like stabbing me or killing me is a badge of honor or pride.

My lawyer believes the best course of action is to plead guilty. The only thing stopping me from doing that is Emily. She can’t hate me. It’ll kill me. And if she thinks I tried killing Addison, she’ll never forgive me just as I can’t forgive myself for stopping when I saw her standing in the road behind me. Things would be different if only I turned around, but I couldn’t. My heart was breaking–fucking kill me right now for admitting that. I was lost and confused and I figured whatever she wanted to say would only make things worse.

And now she’s on the verge of death, all because I didn’t have the courage to do the right thing.

I hear the gate open at the end of the hall, followed by the smacking of a baton against the steel bars of another cell. The guard whistles as he approaches, coming to a stop just outside my cell.

“It’s your lucky day, Callaway. Someone is here to see you.”

I kick my feet off the side of the bed and approach the guard slowly. Nerves take over. My throat tightens. My breath hitches. Could it be Addison? Could she be awake? Could it be my lawyer coming to tell me that the charges have been dropped? “Who?”

“How the hell should I know that?” He fidgets with a set of keys hanging loosely on an oversized metal ring. He twists one of the many keys into the lock, and the door swings open. My first taste of freedom in days, not including the daily showers. “Come on, pretty boy. I don’t have all day.”

He follows me down the hallway, heading back the way from which he came. Light passes through the barred windows overhead as I move from one shadow to the next. Inmates clamor at the edges of their cells, banging on the steel bars.

“Where ya’ going Callaway?” One of them asks.

“Pretty boy, pretty boy,” whistles another.

Another doesn’t say anything. He just blows me a wet kiss as he grabs his crotch and thrusts forward.

The guard grabs me by the back of my shirt. “Don’t think I have any interest in protecting you. Your money is worthless here, considering the circumstances.” He chuckles to himself. “I’d have better luck selling your sweet ass to any of these men. Any number of them would kill to get a crack at Hamptons royalty. My, how the prince has fallen.”

I don’t say anything at all. I’m too lost in my own thoughts, hoping and praying Addison is waiting for me in the visitation lobby. But when I finally arrive, I drop my head and sigh. I take a seat in the walled booth and grab the phone off the side of the wall.

“You look disappointed to see me,” Emily says from the other side of the glass, holding a phone in one hand. She’s dressed more conservative than I’ve ever seen her with a turtleneck sweater covering up every bit of her skin except her hands.

“I was losing hope I would ever see you again,” I say softly. “Where have you been?”

She averts her gaze, looking straight down at the white counter before her. “Honestly, I didn’t know what to think. None of us are innocent and you were there that night, so what was I supposed to think?”

I stare her down. “You know I didn’t do this.”

“I know.” She takes a deep breath. “I know that now. I know that after thinking about it for weeks on end, trying to understand. And then Addison woke up and I-”

“She’s awake?” I press my hand against the glass. “Is that why you’re here?”

She sits up straight in her chair and leans forward. “She doesn’t remember anything.”

“She doesn’t even remember who pulled the trigger?”

“She hasn’t said a lot. She’s weak and in physical therapy, and she’s remembering bits and pieces, but nothing recent. When I asked her about you, she kind of shut down. Apparently, when it comes to you, the last thing she remembers is being at a club with you following her there.”

My heart shatters again. There’s no way in hell I can rebuild a relationship with her, assuming I can even get out of this fucking place. Somehow, the two of us formed a bond despite our issues, but there’s no way that magic can happen twice. Not unless she somehow wakes up one day remembering everything.

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