I'll Be Fine

Everybody Makes Mistakes...

I spent a lot of time looking at that photo album after Gotham left. The pictures just made me happy...seeing Austin's smiling face, the same smile that used to light up a room, the same smile that disappeared a few years ago. I really miss hanging out with him; he was the only person that knew how to make me smile or laugh when no one else even bothered to ask if I was okay. Another thing about Austin: He never asked if I was okay. Instead, he'd just lift my spirits. He was the best friend a girl could ask for.

Until he wasn't.

I quickly steer my brain off that topic, for it was to be dwelled on another day. I'm over Austin...and even if I don't think I am, I have to be. For my own sake. Otherwise I'll just keep disappointing myself. He's not here for you anymore. Move on.

The thought crosses my mind and I seem to go numb. I slide down to the floor, my back against my dresser, pressing the album to my chest. I don't notice I'm crying until I feel the silent tears rolling down my cheeks. I let out a sob. I know I can't keep doing this to myself. I know he's gone. But I just can't help it.

Damn it, Sophia, all those years of guarding your feelings, your emotions, your thoughts, and here you are sobbing over someone you haven't thought about in years.

The other, more rational side of my brain kicks in. It hasn't been years..it's been A year, there's a difference...

Either way, I can't handle all this right now. I don't need emotions. I don't need people. I don't need- *KNOCK KNOCK KNOCK*

The knocking on my door is enough to end my little pity party. Enough of that. You're better than this...honestly, when did you become so flawed? I can't BELIEVE you were just crying...how you gonna explain that to whoever's at the door? Nobody's seen you cry since kindergarten, Sophia. Everyone thinks you're just a sentimental little nerd and you're proving them right. Not to mention you could lay off the junk food and still survive the winter on pure body fat alone.

My mind goes wild with insults as I'm cautiously walking downstairs, scolding, pointing out every little mistake I've made in the past week. Month. Year. It goes on.

I finally get to the door, looking through the peephole briefly. Oh, just the police. Who'd you expect it to be, Gotham? Ha. Last time he came to your house you almost gave him a concussion with a plastic bat.

I open the door, doing my best to look cool and composed. Crying is a sign of guiltiness. I know I'm not guilty, but obviously they know by now that my family is completely insane. Who's to say I'm any different? And besides, crying is a weakness. I can't afford a weakness.

"Hello, how can I help you?" I ask, my voice calm and steady, surprisingly. My eyes scan over the officers, quickly locating their weapons an- Holy crap that officer on the right is HOT. Hehe, I'll have to get in trouble more often if it means seeing his se- SOPHIA, WHAT THE HELL IS YOUR PROBLEM WITH STAYING ON TOPIC?!! SERIOUSLY, NOW IS MOST DEFINITELY NOT THE TIME!!

The good looking officer on the right doesn't seem to notice my staring. His female partner on the left, however, sees and glares at me. Awww, someone's jealous of a 16 year old girl. Almost 17, but still. How pathetic.

"Hello, Miss Allen." The male officer says smoothly. "I'm Officer Hopkins, and this is Officer Snart." Oh crap, no, please don't...I'm begging yo-

I snort. "Like Leonard Snart?" I ask. Both officers just look at me. I sigh. "Like, from The Flash? Ya know, the guy with the cold gun Cisco designed?" I clarify, looking for any signs of recognition in the officers' eyes. Not even a sliver. Oh well, not the first time someone didn't understand a TV reference of mine...

Officer Hopkins clears his throat, "Right, anyways..We're here to collect you for your hearing. You received our notice in the mail yesterday, correct?"

Oh, so THAT'S what that was...I threw that away without looking at it...too late now..

"Yes, that's correct," I say, sounding as confident as I can, "And I'm ready to go if you are. Anything to help with the case, right?" I'm hoping this will ease the tension in the air that seems to follow these two. I swear, you could cut it with a butter knife. Right, just don't throw it into one of Effie's tables...I mean, we get it, it's mahogany...

The officers just give me a look before sharing a look. I'm still in my Slytherin robe...

"Oh, right, the robe. I'm sorry about that, I wasn't expecting you to be here this early! Give me a few seconds and I'll just toss that in my room." I say, speaking quickly before closing the door, turning on my heel, and sprinting towards my room. Faster than previously thought was possible, I shove my door open, slip on a random t-shirt and jeans, and pull my hair up into a messy bun. I then grab my phone and wallet, sprinting back through the hall and down the stairs.

Once I reach the front door, I try not to look out of breath. I pull it open, feeling 2% energetic and 98% dread of the coming hearing. If I tell the truth and Mason or one of his many goons finds out, I'll be dead meat. On the other hand, if I lie and make him look good, I'll look like a liar and they'll be able to disprove everything I say. Which won't be good for me. Plus, the evidence against him is pretty solid. I mean, several of our neighbors came forward and said they saw only Mason and my mom enter the house after they left to take care of some errands or whatever. Then, they heard shrieking, screaming, crying, coming from my mom, and some guttural, animal-like sounds which came from Mason. They were home alone, fingerprints were all over the place, all of them belonging to Mason, and everyone claimed they'd been having problems. But oh, they never thought Mason was capable of something like this. Nevermind my unexplained bruises or black eyes, or sometimes even hospital visits. I deserved those for being alive in the eyes of my community. Just a sad little outcast who spent her days locked up in her room, supposedly blowing all of my parents' hard earned money on "stupid band shirts" or bracelets. That was all I'd learned so far. I guess now I'd hear the full truth.

We got to the station and into a small room, almost like the ones you see in interrogations on crime shows on TV. Officer Snart cleared her throat, pulling out a file marked "Allen, Mason." She opened it, yanked out a few papers, and was a heartbeat away from reading this information, the same information I'd simultaneously been dreading and waiting for. I braced myself for the worst, but nothing could possibly prepare me for what I was about to hear:

"Mason Allen was drugged. His blood showed high levels of cocaine, crystal meth, and what appear to be bath salts. We did a thourough search of the house and found no trace of drugs. A few interrogations from his friends revealed that he had many enemies who'd want revenge. We can only assume the drugs were planted in a food he'd consumed earlier that day."

Wait...so Mason DIDN'T get drunk and beat her to death?