Gone

Chapter 57 [Spencer] I have Parents? *

Eighty seven,

eighty eight,

eighty nine,

ninety,

ninety one,

ninety two,

ninety three...

I silently count in my head, tightly closing my eyes and trying to take myself away from reality. It's been three days that I've been here in lock up, fucking Juvenile detention. The night I got arrested, I didn't know what was going to go down. I didn't know where I was going to go. I didn't know what was going to, happen to me. But then, when they brought me to the police department to question me is when they asked me my date of birth. And that was when they realized I'm still seventeen. I guess when you are younger than eighteen, you don't go straight to jail. You go to juvee.

My birthday is today. I'm eighteen years old now. So, the attorny I was assigned to told me that today is the day I'll be transferred to a real jail, where I'll be waiting for my trial date to begin. I have no clue what time it is, cause there's no clock. I don't have a cellmate or anything, I'm in a room by myself. the past three days we're all woken up at 6 AM, we have breakfast which is nasty cereal, we go to school where they teach us life lessons for a while, then we can watch cartoons on the TV. This is the most boring time of my whole life. And I never felt more alone than I do right now.

I haven't gotten any letters. I'm not allowed to see my friends. I can't even get any phone calls; so it's basically like I don't exist out in the real world anymore. I think that maybe going to a jail will make me feel more alive, just because it's more opened, and I can get more options. I can get visits there, phone calls, and a lot more oppertunities than from being here in Juvee. This is what my attorney told me yesterday when we talked about everything. When we go to court, I'm going to be pleading not guilty, based on self defense. The guy came at me with a metal baseball bat, and I really did feel like my life was in danger. I was in a fked up state of mind that night, and I had no intention of killing that guy. This wasn't supposed to happen. Not like this. He wasn't supposed to die. But, he did. 

When morning comes I'm staring up at the white tiled ceiling, barely able to open my eyes because I'm so drained from not getting any sleep for the whole night. I can't sleep knowing where my life is heading to. All I can think about is, it's my birthday.

Happy birthday to me.

And then there's a hard knock on my door, and it opens as I quickly sit up and plant my feet on the floor. It's a cop, and he stares at me in silence before saying something that makes me lose my goddamn breath.

"Spencer," he lets out, his voice deep and unfriendly as hell. "You have visitors here to see you."

"But I thought my friends can't visit or contact me?"

"You have visitors here. Follow me," The cop instructs, as I stand up and follow behind him. I walk down the hall with him close by my side, not knowing how my friends could have gotten here since they probably don't even know where I am. But then it clicks once I'm brought to a small room, and the door carefully opens.

"Spence!"

My eyes narrow and my stomach drops, as I realize who it is. "Mom?"

"Spencer, sit down. Sit the hell down right now," she orders, my dad sitting beside her as I turn to look at the cops blank face.