Lemon Like Love

I'm Not A Criminal.

~Lenna's pov~

"You don't need to know."

"Why not?" I asked, my voice steady and determined.

For a moment, it seemed as though he would open up and reveal his secrets to me. But just as quickly, he closed himself off, his expression hardening.

"It's better if you don't know," he replied, his voice tinged with a hint of regret.

"No I need to know why you're so hellbent on putting me to jail. I'm pretty sure there's more reason than just because I'm a criminal," I argued, frustration seeping into my tone. The room grew heavy with tension as the weight of his unspoken truth hung between us. But I wasn't willing to back down, not when the stakes were so high. "I deserve to know the whole story," I insisted, my voice trembling with a mix of fear and determination. He took a deep sigh.

"What's in it for me to tell you the truth?" He finally responded, his eyes searching mine for any signs of deception. The seconds ticked by slowly, each one amplifying the intensity of the moment. Finally, he spoke, his voice barely above a whisper. "If I tell you, it could cost me everything."

"Oh please, what can I do with the reason you give me?" I retorted, frustration bubbling within me. "I've already risked so much just to be alive. I need answers and the truth, and I won't leave until I have them."

His gaze hardened, the weight of his secret palpable in the air between us. I could see the battle raging within him, torn between his desire to protect himself and the urgency of my plea. A sigh escaped his lips, a mixture of resignation and determination.

"Fine," he conceded, his voice laced with vulnerability. "But if you utter anything I say to you anywhere else or if you dare to cross me, you will regret it. I won't hesitate to reveal the darkest parts of your past and ruin your life. Consider yourself warned."

My heart pounded in my chest as his threat hung in the air, his eyes burning with a mix of power and menace. The tension between us was suffocating, but I refused to back down. I was determined to uncover the truth, no matter the cost.

"Ok." I whispered. He grabbed my purse from the ground, and the keys to my hotel room dangled from his fingers. With a wary glance, he handed them over to me. Nervously, I took hold of the keys, feeling the weight of the situation resting on my shoulders. Taking a deep breath, I inserted the key into the lock and turned it, the metallic click echoing in the silence. As I pushed the door open, I reminded myself to stay vigilant. He closed the door behind us and slid down the door to the floor, his back against it. I watched him for a moment, unsure of what to do next. The room was dimly lit, casting shadows on the walls that seemed to dance in the stillness. I took a step forward, the floor creaking beneath my weight, and his eyes darted up to meet mine. There was a flicker of something in his gaze—a mix of fear and determination. It mirrored the emotions swirling within me and the urgency of the situation pressing against my chest.

"Now tell me." I whispered as I sat down in front of him. He ruffled his hair.

"I think I was 9 when this happened. I had wonderful parents who loved me very much and many friends. I even got good marks in school. Life was simple and carefree back then. But everything changed on that fateful day—the day I stumbled upon a hidden secret that would unravel the very fabric of my existence. It started innocently enough with a small drawing I had made for my parents. I wanted to show it to them as a surprise, so I tiptoed into their room and gently pushed the door open. The sight that greeted me was unlike anything I could have ever imagined. My parents, who were always so loving and kind, were huddled together in a heated argument. Their voices, filled with anger and frustration, echoed through the room, piercing my innocent heart. I stood frozen, my hand still clutching the drawing, unsure of what to do next. As their voices grew louder, I saw tears streaming down my mother's face, her eyes filled with a mix of sadness and desperation. Unable to bear the scene any longer, I mustered up the courage to step forward and attempt to intervene. But as I neared them, their argument escalated to a whole new level. Words turned into shoves, and soon enough, punches were thrown. Shocked and terrified, I watched as my parents engaged in a brutal physical altercation, their love twisted into something unrecognizable. Until my dad pulled out a syringe from his pocket. Time seemed to slow down as I watched my father's hand tremble, his eyes darting between my mother and the syringe, and the next minute I knew he had stabbed her in the neck with the needle. The room filled with my mother's screams, mingled with the sound of shattered glass as she fell to the ground, clutching her neck in agony. Panic consumed me, and I instinctively rushed towards her, desperate to help, but my father blocked my path, his face contorted with a mix of anger and despair. But you know what the best part about this is?" He asked with a torn smile.