Intrigue

Four years later

Sean's POV

The first few months were difficult. Of course they were. What had happened was horrible, I'd been wrongly accused. I'd lost everything. But worst of all, I'd betrayed Malcolm, and because of me, he'd ended up in rehab and missed out a year of his studies.

I didn't get many visitors at first. Jeremy was the only constant, as always. My sister didn't want to see me. Sometimes he talked her into coming, but those instances were rare. Clark visited, sometimes, too, but was always wary about associating himself with me. He'd been given my duties, so he was able to talk to me through such visits, rather than official visits where he had to sign his name. Sometimes Alice came along too. I always asked them the same question.

"How's Malcolm?"

"Still in rehab."

"He's recovering."

"He's better."

"He's okay."

"He's graduating."

And my heart heaved a sigh of relief each time I knew he was slowly recovering. The guilt had killed me. And now I had even more time to think and contemplate on my terrible actions, what my aim had been at first, the way I'd lied and hidden the truth, and the way I'd fallen in love with him and made him fall in love with me, only for him to find out I'd betrayed him in the worst way possible.

It also didn't help that Anthony Grittleton was never too far. He kept his promise.

And the abuse I received...

There were instances when Jeremy was not able to visit, because my visiting rights had

been revoked. Because I didn't just sit there and take what Anthony and his gang presented. I fought back. But there were many, many times when they still got their own way.

After the difficult first year, I focused on getting better, both physically and intellectually. I had the time, and I was more than ready to use it. I worked out, going above and beyond what my body could take - so many people had abused of it now, it was only fair that I got to batter it myself, for something I actually wanted. And when Clark came to see me, once, in my cell, he found me reading the book Malcolm had given me as a Christmas gift, and taking notes. It was the only thing I'd requested that I bring with me to the cell. That, and the card he'd given me. I explained to Clark that thanks to him, I was going to apply for the master's course he'd told me so much about. As always, Jeremy would be taking care of everything. Clark sat down with me and helped me with notes and assignments, and also helped me to write the request for the scholarship - something which I objected to at first, but which I then gave a shot. And I got it. Apparently, the fact that a "criminal" who was currently serving a four-year jail sentence on drug dealing was interested in studying Criminology was very intriguing to the board. And that's how I spent my final years in jail.

My father visited me once in prison after the trial. He was very frail, and it was evident that he was near his end. Once again, he looked disappointed to see me. I had always been a letdown, but somehow, after we'd made amends, this was the peak of it.

"You don't look half bad, considering," he told me, as a nurse helped him sit down in front of me.

I forced a smile. "It's not so bad," I admitted. "There were situations in my life in which I've felt more trapped." Our eyes met, and I could see that he'd understood me.

"Still on about that?" he asked me.

"That was the start of everything," I told him. "I am in the situation I'm in because of what happened when I was fifteen." I didn't want to hurt him, especially now, and especially since he'd visited me, and since we'd made amends, but some things needed to be said and repeated.