"Wolfe?"
I look up to see a man standing on the other side of the bars, his long fingers wrapped around the metal that separates us. He's not as tall as the guards usually are. No, this man is maybe five foot six at the most. A clear visor covers his face, likely bulletproof, although I have no idea who in here would be stupid enough to sneak in a gun.
"That's my name." I say, standing up. My handcuffs clang noisily against the metal bar that I'm attached to as I walk over to the strange man. "You here to finally kill me?"
The man scoffs. "I wish."
"A bit bold coming from someone who's never met me before."
With a sigh, the man hits a few numbers on my lock. It pops open, swinging inward and nearly hitting me in the face. "C'mon," he grumbles, standing out of my way, gesturing as if I need his permission, "you've been bailed out."
I look at him like he's crazy. "Impossible. Black's-"
"I don't know, kid. Your friend met bail too."
My heart skips a beat. Friend? As in just one? "What?" There's no way... did my mom come back for me?
"Well don't just stand there- do you want out or not?"
I obviously do, but I'm honestly a bit skeptical. This whole situation seems out of order. Not to mention, if I go home, writing is inevitable. If I don't write, I'll be joining Black's nine year old self in the Graveyard. At this point, though, I lowkey wouldn't even be mad. This month has already been fucked up as it is.
"How do you expect me to move if I'm handcuffed to a pole?" I ask, narrowing my eyes. I don't like this man at all. I mean, I don't like most people, but I seriously don't like this guy. He's trying to beat me at my own game of sarcasm and I 'm not into it.
"Right." The man steps in cautiously, sticking his arms out as far as possible to unlock my cuffs, as if he could catch a disease just from getting too close. If he thinks I'm bad, I'd hate to see what would happen if Black were here instead of me. "Alright, follow me."
I shake my hand out a few times, enjoying the feeling of not having a strip of metal wrapped around it. It's nice. Not feeling so confined anymore, I mean. I've spent so long cooped up in that, like, two square inch cell, that I almost forgot what it was like to not be in it. But now, instead of being confined, I feel uncomfortably free. Like anything that happens- it's on me now. Things can either get really good or really bad really fast.
I follow the man down the pitch black corridor, scanning every single cell to see if I can catch a glimpse if Blaze or James. I haven't seen them in so long- too long. I miss James' lopsided smile, Blaze's eyes and the way she looked at me with them. The last time the two of them saw each other, it ended in years of friendship being torn to shreds. I'm stuck in the middle now, being pulled from two different ends like a wishbone. James tells me to let me go- to let Blaze rot in prison and then eventually, the Graveyard. Blaze tells me to come back. She tells me to let her pull me in by my collar and to trace my fingers over the crooked scar that travels around her face, a constant reminder of something she's hiding. I want to listen to James. I wanna walk straight out of this shithole and never come back, letting Blaze's corpse shrivel up like it should. But another part of me really, really wants to-
"Are we almost there?" I ask, pushing away any thoughts of the red-headed girl as I continue to follow the man. We twist up a sickening set of pink stairs, the stairs growing shallower and shallower as we ascend.
"Be patient, Your Royal Majesty. We'll be there in a sec, so try to keep quiet, will you?" He snorts, leading me down the cotton-candy colored hall.
We walk for the next minute or so in silence, our shoes smacking in an unsatisfying, off-beat rhythm on the rose hued tile. I remember what's coming next- the dull grey strip, littered with door after door on one side, and about a million desks with blank screens on the other. I can see the cutoff from where I am, the turn of a corner marking the exact point where the walls, ceiling, floor, and everything in between is doused in grey rather than pink. But instead of turning onto the familiar stretch, the man hits a left, and I'm sent down another hall that's a deep purple all over. I'm not a huge fan, but I have to admit, I like this a hell of a lot better than the hot pink.
"Look, sir, I'm not a huge fan of surprises, so if you could just tell me where we're going, that'd be real nice." I fidget uncomfortably with my fingers in the pockets of my plain black jumpsuit, one of the two that I'd been given to wear while inside my cell. I don't like this feeling of not knowing what's coming. I had it the whole time that I was at Black's house, and I don't want it again.
"I told you, you got bailed out. You can leave now."
"What, just like that?"
"Yeah, just like that. Well, if 'just like that' means weeks of paperwork, someone having to come up with the money for your bail, various background checks and a debt now owed." The man side eyes me, annoyed. "This wasn't easy. Better thank whoever got you out."
Well, if I knew who it was, I'd already be.
The deep purple dissipates into a robin's egg blue, a door comes into sight at the end of the hall. It's a bit difficult to see because of the lack of contrast, but it's definitely there. Is it... could it really be a way out?
I'm incredibly disappointed to see that it's just another room, this one such a light green, it could pass for white. The room is vast, much bigger than what I remember from the White Room. On all four walls, there is a different colored door. The door behind me, marked with a bold S, is the same soft green color as the rest of the room. The one to my left, marked with an W, is painted red. The one to my right (marked with an E), colored magenta, and the one straight in front of me (marked N), a lavender hue. The man takes me to door N, placing his hand idly on the knob.
Before turning it, he pauses and looks to me. "You ready?" He asks, eyebrows raised.
I swallow hard. "Well, I-"
"Ah, fuck you."
Before I can call him out on being an ass, or hiss that that was totally uncalled for, he swings the door open, leaving me face to face with the last person on earth that I though would be there.
I pucker my lips, looking like I just tasted a sour lemon. "Oh." I say, pushing past the man so I can get a better look. "It's about time, don't you think?"
"Jesus, sorry." Carmen grumbles, stuffing his hands into his pockets. "I mean, at least I came." He steps aside to reveal my father, standing a good foot shorter than my brother. "Mom wouldn't, so I had to bring him."
I press my lips into a hard line, trying my best to look him in the eyes without being sick. "You brought Mason?"
"I had too; I'm under eighteen."
My father tries to catch my gaze. He doesn't even look like me. His deep green eyes contrast contrast my hazel ones, and he's almost the same height as I am. When he walks, he moves timidly, as if any wrong step could throw the world out of balance. Meanwhile- well, I'm quite the opposite really. If you didn't see the tests, you wouldn't know we were related. I'm still not so sure myself.
"Look, you can call me dad, alright?" Mason practically pleads. "I'm sorry I wasn't there for you- I really am. But... but I'm here now. Isn't that good enough?"
I stifle a laugh. It's really not funny at all, but I can't help it. How could he possibly just walk in here and act like he means anything to me? "Listen, you lost that title somewhere around seven years ago. Just cause you're my father doesn't make you a dad."
"Honey-"
"Don't call me 'honey'."
Carmen snorts, grabbing my sleeve and pulling me close to him, barricading me from Mason. "Yeah, seriously. She's far from sweet."
My father slinks backward, leaving just the two of us to ourselves. Carmen turns around to face me, tearing his eyes away from the pathetic man in khakis and a red flannel that looks positively awful on him. His eyes softening, he reaches down and picks up a steaming travel mug. As he hands it to me, I can already smell the caramel scent that wafts up with the visible steam that escapes the opening in the mug's lid. "I, uh, I got you something. Figured you'd be tired from being cooped up in this shithole for a month."
I take a long sip of coffee from the mug, ignoring the searing feeling I get as it squirms down my throat. Prison food really grew on me, I guess. It's been awhile since I had something as luxurious as salted caramel coffee. "Thanks, man. For coming back for me." The corners of my lips twitch upward into a smile for a split second. "Oh, and for the coffee."
"Anytime. I know you'd have done it for me."
The worst part... the worst part is that I probably wouldn't have.
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Jesus Christ, I haven't updated in forever! Whelp, here ya go, a brand new piece of trash UwU. We're nearing the end of our adventure, so I began a new wattpad story called How To Fail At Being A Teenager! It's on my profile, and it would mean so so much if you could go check that out💗 thank you so much for getting this far in SCC- I can never thank you enough 🥰
- Shaynaaaa