Redeeming Heart

Trouble

Present-day

With eyes glued to the clock on the wall, I waited patiently to see if my father would show up. It’s been three years since we had a decent conversation—they mostly consist of him always lecturing me about my responsibilities and bad life choices, and basically telling me that I am a screw-up.

I’ve spent a decent amount of time at the sheriff’s office over the course of time and I could imagine my father throwing a fit about tonight. He has been covering my ass for the last three years when my life spun out of control, but he never had a serious talk with me, and we haven’t spoken a word about our heartache, since mom passed away.

I shifted my gaze when the cell doors opened and a girl was pushed into the jail cell with me. Arms covered in tattoos all the way from her forearms making their way up to her shoulders. She was wearing black shorts accompanied by black stockings, 3inch heels and a very exposed top that was barely keeping her clothed from being ripped to shreds.

My gaze was fixed on her sleeve tattoos and images of Camille getting hers started replaying in the back of my mind. She didn’t cry or flinch when the tattoo artist did his magic on her forearms and it was almost as if she had no feeling left after what was done to her. All she cared about was hiding the past because people started to judge her and thought she was suicidal but the truth was much harsher.

I got my ink wings on my back to keep the memory of my mother. I had her write her name down on my back and got a tattoo in her handwriting with a pair of big angel wings on either side of her name.

Camille wasn’t so far off when she said that my mother was an angel in disguise.

Nothing could anger my mother. She was always patient and kind to everyone even when people mistreated her.

I dropped my head back against the cold wall behind me and gazed up at the ceiling wondering what she would say about me being detained by the sheriff of our town.

“What are you in for?” The girl asked, rubbing her forearms while making her way over to me and sitting down. “Underage drinking?” She added.

If it was only underage drinking. “Beat up a scumbag for touching something that didn’t belong to him.” I wasn’t in the mood to talk about it.

“What about you?” I asked, lowering my head and looking at her, noticing a bruise forming around her left eye.

“Stabbed my boyfriend—I think I might have killed him.” She replied with a shrug as if it wasn’t a big deal. If she could smile, she would but her lip was busted open and it almost looked painful.

Her honest reply baffled me and I wondered how she felt about taking someone's life. It gave Camille endless nightmares for weeks but we all could agree that Tucker deserved to die. Camille's case was at least dropped due to ruling it out as self-defence but in this case, I wasn't too sure what they found and charged her with.

“You come here often?” She then asked—trying to do something with her ripped shirt.

"Yeah, they got a whole file cabinet just for me." I liked using sarcasm. Not that everyone liked it because they probably didn't understand it.

I slipped out of the jacket I was wearing and handed it to her. “Here,” I offered.

She gave me a once over like she was analyzing me or maybe even judging me. “Quite an expensive jacket that you would hand over to a complete stranger.” She commented but accepted the jacket from me.

I shrugged. “It’s just a jacket—not a kidney,” I muttered.

"Aren't you going to ask me about them?" She asked, motioning with her head towards her tattoos.

"I thought there is an unspoken rule about tattoos?” I acknowledge with a note of sarcasm.

I know Jaylin hates it when I use sarcasm as she is a straightforward kind of gal but Camille also uses her wits when she is not in the mood for something.

"So, did you kill the guy?” She asked.

I shook my head. "Broke his nose and according to the guard fractured a rib." I didn't even feel bad for the guy because he deserved it.

She gave me a look of respect. “Good.” That was all she said before she leaned her head back against the wall behind us, closing her eyes.

We were wrapped in silence and now and then again in the distance hear people talk. I crossed my legs in front of me on the steal bunk and wrapped my arms around my knees while I continued to count down the hours.

"Are you a hockey player?" She abruptly asked causing me to draw my eyebrows together from confusion. "Your necklace." She then clarified reopening her eyes.

I gazed down at my necklace and tucked it away behind my shirt. "Used to be," I answered catching her looking at me.

I only wore it because it was the only piece, I've got left of my mother even it freaked my father out. He can keep on denying it but every time he laid eyes on it, he thought of her even after he betrayed her love.

"Sasha-lee Adams." I raised my head when they called my name and watched the guard unlock the gate.

"I guess I made bail," I muttered standing up.

I looked at her and caught her smirk. "Don't worry, kid. I will be fine." She assured me but I know better. My dad was a prosecutor and worked with cases like hers that's how he met Meredith.

"Do me a favour and never lower your standards for anyone. Be yourself and be courageous. And stay out of here it's not a good place for someone who has got her whole life ahead of her."

I wish I could come of words and assure her that she was going to be fine but I had none. I just nodded my head and stepped out of the jail cell following the guard.