ASSUMPTIONS [H.S.]

chapter 48

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I've never spent a car ride that long in pure silence.

The radio wasn't even on. The poetry CDs weren't even spinning. Not a single word was uttered in this eerie stillness.

Even though I kept my sight on the road at all times, I noticed Amber fiddling with her nailbeds, which made me even more nervous. An innocent person wouldn't be so anxious.

So we're left to keep driving while just listening to the purr of the often-malfunctioning engine leading us up to the sandy beach.

The GPS on my phone beeps as we've finally reached our destination. Once I finally turn off the engine, there's a certain kind of sorrow washing over us as we both watch the huge waves through the windshield.

"It's so windy and bleak today." This is the first thing that I think to say, and I want to facepalm myself for starting a conversation about the fucking weather.

We both look at the abandoned shore, watching as there's not a single person setting foot on the cold sand.

"Maybe it'll clear up." She responds, and it breaks my heart to hear her voice so blue.

For a few seconds, Amber's sight stays glued to one point ahead in nowhere particular, and I watch as her eyes suddenly start glossing over. Right as her chin starts quivering, she pulls the handle to open the car door, stumbling out of the vehicle.

I get overtaken by the salty beach air the moment I exit the convertible to follow after her. She's stopped in her tracks now, having her back turned to me as if she's ashamed that I have to see her in this state. Her shoulders shake with each breath she takes, and the closer I approach her, the more clearly I get to hear her small sniffles.

"Hey," I whisper, making sure she knows I'm here. I gently nudge her to turn around and twist myself in a way that finally lets us be face-to-face, except her hands are covering her expressions.

I wrap my fingers around her wrists, gently pulling down her hands, which let me take in her puffy eyes, and pink damp cheeks.

"I never meant for any of this to happen, Harry. P-Please believe me." She chokes out the words, her whole body trembling in the wave of sadness. Her lashes keep sticking together from the salty tears, and her hair keeps blowing in her face by the wind, but somehow it makes her even more beautiful.

"I promise I'm not a bad person." She lets out the words in hysteria, breaking my heart into pieces one by one. "I-I promise." I'm way too stunned to respond.

I absolutely hate seeing her cry. It's taking every drop of willpower in me to not take her in my embrace while saying it's fine, and she doesn't need to explain. Except, I do deserve to hear an explanation.

She's now moved into a stage of her breakdown where she tries to calm down, but her body's so debilitated, that it keeps juddering, almost seizing on its own, that she's visibly struggling to even inhale.

"W-What 'New York' said about my behavior in jail is absolute bullshit, Harry. I don't have anything to prove I'm right, but you just have to believe me, okay?" She wipes under her eyes, but the tears have traveled all over her face, so there's no point in trying to clear them.

She struggles to breathe. "I'm not a murderer." She's back to putting her hands over her face, but when I gently touch her elbow, she's pulling them down again. "I'd never willingly hurt anybody."

When she says that, my heart sinks to my stomach because I absolutely believe her, which is why I'm beyond confused now. We're talking about the girl who gets so excited about crocheting, cats, new grills and owns a Crocs & soap collection at home.