Epilogue

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1 year later

The building looked different this time. Or maybe it's just her nerves controlling her eyesight, making her think that it's not so bad after all.

No, it's bad. So bad.

"Abort mission," she whispers and repeats it, eyes wide and fingers trembling to start the car and drive away. Her mission would've succeeded if Harry wasn't there, though.

"No, no. Aronica, it's been a year. You can't run away this time," he scolds, slapping her hand. She sighs hard, leaning against her seat. Her mind has been anticipating this for months, and Harry is right, it's been a year. It's basically about time.

"Okay, I know, I'm sorry," she rubs her hands on her face. "But remind me again, why can't you follow me in?"

"Because you need to work it out on your own and I'll go on my own next month. We have turns. Maybe someday we'll go in together but not today," he says, his tone desperate for her to not change her mind.

"Fuck," she curses. "Okay. I got this. It's just a meeting that'll last for only one hour."

He nods, rubbing her arm to calm her down. He's not sure either, afraid of how she would react and how she would handle it. He's been worrying about it since they've called to say that they've been added to the visitor's list. Because since that day, it's been official. It only meant that they are actually doing it.

"I love you, okay? Just don't be afraid, she's only human after all," he tries to joke that none of them breaks a smile or even consider dropping their shoulders and not be tense. 

She nods rushingly, getting out of the car and slamming the door with a brief scream, in hopes that it would release some of the tension in her. It does, it helps. Harry laughs, shaking his head and stares at his shaking fingers on the steering wheel, gulping down hard. 

The guard sees her and smiles, nodding his head as a way to tell her she should follow him. This man was probably the first man they've talked to and immediately liked. He understood exactly how she and Harry felt considering his father was locked in for four years and he had to see him without sweating or else his father would throw a fit. He probably never sweated after that.

"You can sit here and wait, they're calling her out," he reassures, patting her shoulder. Aronica whispers an 'okay' and already talking felt hard. That's trouble since the only thing she could right now is talking. Or crying. She could do the latter unless she wants to humiliate herself and be called a 'fucking coward' by the guard standing behind her. 

The plastic, transparent border in between her and the other side has been wiped perhaps a million times since she could see her own reflection through it. It looks horrible. Like she never slept and showered and eat. When, in fact, she has done all of that. Obviously.

She laughs to herself quietly, imagining an image of her not sleeping and showering and eating. God, Harry would've left her right there and then. 

The laugh dies down quick when the door opposite of hers opens, coming in a handcuffed woman who has terrible bags under her eyes, hair tangled with each other and her lower arm coated with a dried white glue.

Wait, dried white glue?

Gemma drops on the chair, her eyes half opened when she looks up. The light seems to be too bright for her. She doesn't frown, or smile or even dare to curse her out. There's only her. But not her at the same time. There's no surprise on her face or any emotion, to begin with. Like the walls of the cell have soaked up all of her feelings to leave a body like a dummy. 

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