(Not gonna lie, this is a lil bit angsty/angsty-er than usual, but here we go. The one problem is: I am shit at writing angst, but to stick with the personality I've imagined for Jerome, this one had to be more angsty, although I am gonna try and make it end somewhat happy-ish. Also, something I've noticed, is that my chapter titles are getting increasingly serious? One of the first real chapters was called Is Carla The Devil (I Guess We'll Never Know), and now the titles somewhat relate to the chapter in a more serious way, and it isn't just about froyo and stuff anymore? I dunno, it's weird. When I do finish this story though, I'm gonna go back and edit the first chapters, because they are awful. To be fair though, I started this book in November of 2019, and now it's almost 2021)
Your POV
A guard opened your door, pointing a gun at your head.
"Move and you die."
He said, voice bored, as if this was a natural occurrence for him.
Maybe it is.
You thought.
A second guard tossed someone into your cell, then the first slammed the door shut, before they both retreated down the hallway. This action registered a second too late in your mind to catch them.
You dove forwards to help your friend up.
Jerome.
He recoiled from you, glaring, before seeming to recognize you.
"Oh. It's you."
He grumbled. You bristled.
"Good to se that hasn't changed."
You muttered. He rolled his eyes.
"My dad is dead, my mom thinks I'm dead, or missing, I was just attacked by a bunch of armed adults, and I'm stuck with you in a DUNGEON. So I am sooooo sorry if I don't have flowers, Princess."
You raised an eyebrow.
"Princess?"
You spat.
"Your the one acting like a spoiled brat!"
He snorted.
"I'm not the one who dragged a bunch of sorry assholes into her own dysfunctional love chiliagon (google it. I had to) and almost got everybody involved SHOT!"
He lashed. You paused. You didn't even know what a chiliagon was. Under other circumstances, you might have asked what a chiliagon was, but you didn't want his head to get too big.
"This isn't my fault."
You mumbled. He laughed dryly.
"This,"
He said, gesturing at the room.
"and this,"
He said, pointing at a particularly dark bruise on his cheek.
"and ALL OF THIS,"
He shouted, throwing his arms in the air.
"Is all your fault."
He finished. You bit the inside of your cheek, hard enough to draw blood.
Don't cry don't cry don't cry-
It wasn't that you were quite afraid of crying. You just didn't feel like giving Jerome another thing to be a smug asshole about.
"You're a dick, you know that?"
You bit back, tears threatening to spill.
"Alright, maybe I am a dick! But it was your dumbass that got us all here! Don't you dare try to flip this on me."
Now you felt like screaming. Sure, it had been you the Huxleys had been looking for, but it was Jerome's decision to stay with you. As proved by Damien, he could have gotten a huge bribe to be quiet about the whole situation.
"Oh yeah? Well then, why didn't you leave? You could have left at any time, and yet you stayed. Why?"
He opened his mouth, as if to say something else, before closing it.
"What? Nothing to say now?"
He wouldn't look at you.
"Well maybe dealing with you being a dumbass is better than being alone."
He snapped.
"Or maybe,"
You said spitefully.
"It's because you don't have any other friends!"
He stared at you, tears starting to cloud his eyes. Your stomach started to fill with guilt.
"Listen, I-I'm sorry."
You sighed.
"It's fine."
He said, his voice catching at the end.
"It's fine."
He repeated, his voice somewhat steadier, wiping frantically at the tears that were now starting to spill down his cheeks.
"No, I am really, really sorry."
You said. You were pretty sure you were sorry now. You extended your functional arm in an attempt to hug him, but he slapped your hand away.
"Ow."
You protested.
"I've only got one arm left to use for shit, y'know."
"Liar."
He muttered into his hand.
"Nope."
You took your still stinging hand, and shook your numb arm theatrically. He looked up now.
He poked your arm lightly.
"I can't feel a thing."
He tilted his head slightly, as if trying to solve the puzzle that was your arm.
"What happened?"
He asked, wiping his eyes again.
"How much time do you have?"
You joked. He laughed a little.
"Well, for the time being it seems like I have all the time in the world."
You paused.
"Well alright, I'll tell you, but first I have to know-"
"Oh no."
He interrupted. You gave him a look, and continued.
"-why you did choose to stay."
You looked at him, to see his expression.
"Because it doesn't seem like you like me very much."
He looked embarassed.
"I, um, well, I guess......"
He stuttered, before clearing his throat.
"Well, I mean, you aren't that bad."
He said.
"I mean, I've met bitchier people."
You laughed.
"I'm flattered."
He smiled a little bit, although nervously at that.
"Now about my arm."
You continued.
(So there we go! Jerome ending. I wasn't planning on working on a chapter today, but I guess I'll consider it a Christmas present. I hope this was alright :) Merry Christmas to those who celebrate it, and happy holidays to those who don't!)