Tessa watched him in silence. Why wouldn’t he reply? It wasn’t a hard question. She had asked him to tell her what he’d done—how they had ended up here. It was the same guy he had been fighting with before… then he found her. Maybe Cole had told the man where she lived just to get him off his back? Who knew. But Cole had to say something. Anything. The silence clawed at her like an open wound, raw and festering, burning with every second that passed. She watched him expectantly as he brought the phone to his ear again, her brows pinching together. Her stomach churned violently, the sick feeling curling deep in her gut like it was ready to rip her apart from the inside out. The look in his eyes was killing her. Really, what was wrong? Why couldn’t he just speak? He looked terrified, like the wrong word would chase her away forever. And maybe… maybe it would. She knew for a fact that if he said something even slightly insensitive, she would run. She would run and never look back, because she couldn’t—wouldn’t—let him hurt her anymore.

She drew in a shaky breath, the air rattling through her lungs, but just as she did, the officer dragged him away. Tessa shot up too fast, the sudden movement sending a spike of pain through her body. What were they doing? They had just sat down! This was important. She had to see him. As nervous as she was, as scared as she felt that he might try to hurt her, she wanted nothing more than to pull him into a hug and reassure him that everything would be okay. And maybe it would be—but not before she spoke to him. She needed his side of the story. She had her suspicions, but she couldn’t blindly defend him. Not when she didn’t know the truth. He could have done the same thing to another girl. Maybe he already had. And yet, despite everything, she never thought she would be the one to doubt him. She never thought she would be the one sitting here, wondering if her best friend was capable of something so horrible.

She stood up quickly, too quickly, and slammed her fist against the wall. The pain barely registered past the frustration boiling in her chest. “Wait! We’re not done, come back!” she yelled, her voice breaking with desperation. She hadn’t come all the way down here in excruciating pain just to get two words. Her eyes widened, anger flashing through them as Cole was dragged off, and in that moment, the fury eclipsed everything—the fear, the pain, the doubt. She stormed out of the room, but the lump in her throat had risen too high, choking her as the tears finally broke free, slipping hot and fast down her cheeks. How dare they? How dare they do that? They had given them maybe a minute, and now it was over. Just like that.

She sucked in a sharp breath as she spotted the officer approaching, her expression tight with concern. “Teresa, hun, what’s wrong? That wasn’t long,” the woman murmured softly. Tessa looked up at her, her heart catching in her throat. She was hurting—inside and out—and this… this was just too much. This tipped her over the edge. “They—took—” she gasped out, but the words got stuck, dissolving into a choked sob. Her breath burned in her throat, her ribs seizing as her chest caved in on itself. The tears kept coming, her body convulsing under the weight of all of it. “I didn’t get to talk to him—they took him,” she whimpered, swiping at her eyes with shaking hands. Her shoulders trembled violently, and no matter how hard she tried, she couldn’t stop the tears.

She was exhausted. Utterly, painfully exhausted. Her body ached, her head throbbed, her heart felt like it had been hollowed out. There was too much happening, too much to process, and the one thing she had come down here for had just been ripped away. She wasn’t even sure what to think of Cole anymore, but she knew one thing—he was her best friend. The boy she had run around with since she was seven years old. And once again, he had been taken from her. Again.

Her chest heaved in the hallway, the walls closing in around her as the weight of everything crashed down all at once. Her vision blurred at the edges, her ears ringing as her breath caught, stuttering, skipping. Her lungs refused to expand properly, leaving her gasping, sucking in desperate, uneven gulps of air that never seemed to be enough. Her heart pounded so hard it felt like it might shatter her ribs, like it was slamming against her chest trying to escape. Her fingers curled into fists, her nails digging into her palms, but she could barely feel it. Every part of her was shaking—her hands, her legs, even her lips. The pressure built and built, her mind racing too fast for her to catch a single thought, her body spiraling out of control as panic took hold, sinking its claws into her and refusing to let go.

A hand rested gently on her shoulder, grounding her just enough to break through the storm. “Shh, it’s alright. Slow breaths,” the officer whispered, her voice calm, steady. She breathed in deeply, exaggerating the motion, hoping Tessa would follow. And slowly—painfully—Tessa tried. Her breaths were still shaky, but they weren’t as sharp, weren’t as ragged. The panic didn’t disappear, but it dulled, settling into a deep, aching pit in her stomach instead of tearing her apart from the inside out. But she kept crying. She couldn’t stop crying.

“I need to see him,” she sobbed, her voice breaking into pieces. “Please, you have to let me—I—I, he’s my best friend. He needs me.” Her breath hitched, her whole body curling inward like she was trying to hold herself together. “He was in a fire—he’s hurt—just… please,” she whispered, her voice barely there, nothing more than a ghost of sound as her head fell into her hands. The woman beside her kept rubbing soothing circles into her back, but Tessa barely felt it. She could only sit there, drowning in it all, wondering how much more she could take before she shattered completely.

Cole stared at his fists, the blood slowly oozing from the raw knuckles, and felt the sting of the pain with each heartbeat. He clenched his hands tighter, as if doing so could somehow pull him back from the edge of his spiraling thoughts. “I needed more time,” he muttered to himself, his voice cracking under the weight of the regret he carried. His eyes, bloodshot and weary, started to water as he spoke the words aloud, “I had so much to say.” His hand glided slowly across his forehead, wiping away the beads of sweat that had gathered, but it did nothing to clear the confusion or guilt clouding his mind. The past hour had been a blur, more like a chaotic storm that had wreaked havoc on everything he once thought he understood. Hell, the past couple of days had been nothing short of a nightmare, each moment dragging him deeper into this pit of despair.

He crawled toward his bed, his limbs trembling with exhaustion and regret. The weight of the world felt heavier than ever, pressing down on him like a suffocating blanket. What have I done? The thought echoed in his mind, drowning out the clarity of reason. He regretted everything—every decision, every word spoken. It didn’t matter how much he wanted to explain himself or how hard he tried to make them understand. Obviously, they had misunderstood him. The words he'd uttered, “I’m sorry,” had been twisted in their minds. To them, it had sounded like a confession, like he was admitting to something dark and terrible. And because of that, they had seen him as a threat, someone to be contained.

His breath hitched as he curled up on the bed, pulling the covers over his body for some semblance of comfort. The darkness of the room offered him a fragile refuge. At least she’s okay, he thought, his mind clinging to that fragile piece of hope. She’s alive. The thought was the only thing that kept him from completely losing himself. He buried his face in his hands, trying to block out the overwhelming emotions that threatened to consume him. The darkness around him was like a balm to his restless, anxious body, holding him close in a way that no person ever could.

The sound of footsteps echoed from the hallway, harsh and deliberate. A guard stepped into the room, his boots heavy against the floor, each step a reminder of the power he held over Cole’s fate. “You will be going to court tomorrow,” the guard said, his voice devoid of any empathy.

“Court?” Cole repeated, his words barely a whisper. His eyes closed in disbelief. Criminals went to court. What have I done wrong? He could hardly comprehend the idea. He had never felt more like a prisoner of his own mind than he did now, trapped in a scenario where he couldn’t control anything.

The guard stood there, waiting for a response, but Cole remained silent, his gaze fixed on the ceiling. The blank white walls seemed to close in on him, their emptiness mirroring the hollow feeling in his chest. He sighed deeply and let himself collapse further into the bed, the weight of the situation pressing him down even more.

“Nothing could be worse than what I’m going through,” he whispered to himself, his voice tinged with bitterness. His mind, once a place of clarity, had turned into a maze of anger and confusion. No one understands, he thought, no one will ever understand. The pain he felt inside—this gnawing emptiness—was something no one else could possibly comprehend. His bitterness toward humanity swelled in his chest like a storm that refused to die. How could they do this to me? The thought burned through his veins, and in a fit of frustration, he sneered at the guard who walked past his cell, oblivious to the turmoil swirling inside him.

The guard, unfazed by the expression, continued down the hallway, but Cole couldn’t tear his eyes away. His resentment toward the world around him grew with each passing second, and the walls of his prison seemed to close in even tighter.

(Sorry for late reply I've been flying >.>)

Tessa sat in the stiff plastic chair, her body tense as the officer guided her out of the waiting room. Her mind was a whirlwind, a storm of fury and confusion that refused to settle. How could they do this to them? How could they look at her, battered and broken, and still take Cole away? She needed to see him. She needed to hear him say something—anything—that would make sense of this mess.

Her fingers curled into fists on her lap, nails biting into her palms. The urge to hit him, to scream at him, to pull him into her arms and never let go—it was all tangled together in a knot so tight she couldn’t separate one feeling from the next. He’d said he was sorry. But what was he sorry for? What had he done? What had gone so horribly wrong? The questions pounded against her skull, too loud, too heavy, and all she wanted to do was break down, to sob until the world felt a little less suffocating.

Her pulse quickened as the weight of everything settled deeper into her chest. She had been taken. Ripped away from everything she knew, everything she loved. And Cole—Cole had saved her, hadn’t he? But somehow, he was the one locked away while the real monsters walked free. The ones who had hit her. The ones who had taken pleasure in her pain. The man who had promised to take care of her—who had shattered that promise in the worst way. The injustice of it all burned like acid in her throat. None of it made sense, and the more she tried to piece it together, the more the edges of her mind frayed.

She let out a sharp breath, her brow furrowing as she pressed her fists against her knees. What had she done to deserve this? What had either of them done? The anger inside her simmered dangerously, bubbling just beneath the surface, threatening to spill over with every passing second. She wanted to go home. She wanted to see her family. Did they even know she was safe? Were they still looking for her? Were they okay? They had to be. The thought of anything happening to them was unbearable.

Her head jerked up as the officer moved toward the desk, murmuring something she couldn’t quite catch. Then, a word—Cole. Tessa’s breath hitched. She didn’t know what she expected, but whatever it was, she needed it. She needed to talk to him. Maybe she’d get the answers she so desperately craved. Or maybe she’d leave even more lost than before. Either way, she had to see him.

Had she fought hard enough? Could she have done more? Maybe if she had, none of this would be happening. Maybe she could have fought for him. But how? She hadn’t even been conscious when the police found her. She was lucky to be alive, lucky that it had only been beatings. It could have been worse. She knew that. She knew what happened to girls like her in places like that. If she hadn’t gotten away when she did—if he hadn’t gotten her out when he did—she wouldn’t just be broken. She would be lost entirely.

Her hands trembled as another thought struck her. Cole.

She had trusted him. More than anyone. She had given him everything, believing—knowing—that he would protect it, that he would keep her safe the way she would have done for him. She would have given him her life if he asked. She had given him her life, and she thought he had held it carefully, like something fragile and precious. But she had been wrong, hadn’t she?

Even now, even with everything that had happened, she still couldn’t shake the memories. The good ones. The ones that made it impossible to hate him entirely. She remembered the first time he got into a fight—he couldn’t have been older than ten. He had come to her, bloodied and crying, his small body shaking with the force of his sobs. She hadn’t known what to do except hold him until the shaking stopped. She had taken him home, cleaned him up, made him a sandwich, sat with him in silence because that was all she could offer.

She barely remembered what she had felt that day. Not really. Her head was too foggy now, her thoughts too tangled. But she knew one thing—she still wanted to hold him. She still wanted to take him home and make sure he was okay. It didn’t seem like much, but it was everything. Because he was all she had. He had no family, no one else in the world. She had become his, and he had become hers. And now, because of her, he was locked away.

A hand on her shoulder jolted her from her thoughts. She looked up sharply, her eyes glassy as she met the officer’s gaze.

“I’ve arranged for you to see him in the morning,” the woman said gently. “There’s a meeting room. He has court in the afternoon. It would help if you wanted to testify for him—but only if you’re comfortable.”

Court.

Her stomach lurched. It was happening too fast. None of them knew anything. They didn’t understand. He was her best friend. She didn’t want a courtroom and lawyers and sentences. She wanted to yell at him, to cry, to throw something at his head, and then wake up the next day and have everything be okay. But this—this was real. And it wasn’t going away.

She swallowed the lump in her throat, barely aware of the dull beeping of a fax machine somewhere behind the desk. Her voice felt foreign when she finally forced it out. “Yes. Yes, I’ll testify.” Her gaze flickered toward the door she had come through. He was just beyond it. Close enough to touch. But she couldn’t. Not yet.

They wanted to keep her in the hospital for a few more days. Observation, they said. She knew she wouldn’t sleep. She knew the minutes would crawl by like hours. But none of that mattered. Tomorrow, she’d be back here. Nothing in the world could stop her from that. She still didn’t know whether she wanted to coddle him or bash his skull in. She figured she’d find out soon enough.

Dont stress, almost RO busy times)

-

Cole glanced up towards the door as he heard the soft click of the door handle turning. "You're going to court," the officer said as he stepped forward, pulling a pair of handcuffs from his belt. He clicked them closed around Cole’s wrists, the metal biting into his skin. The weight of the cuffs felt almost as heavy as the weight in his chest, dragging him down with each passing second. He exhaled slowly, trying to steady his breathing.

He couldn’t shake the thought of Tessa. He hoped, against all odds, that she would be there. Even if she was angry with him, even if she was against him, seeing her face always made him feel something close to peace. It was a fleeting sense of normalcy in the midst of all this chaos. He needed that, needed her.

With a sigh, he lurched forward as the officer tugged on the cuffs, pulling him toward the waiting cop car. The cold metal of the cuffs scraped against his skin, a constant reminder of the mistake that had led him here. When he was shoved into the backseat of the car, the sterile, almost chemical smell of fresh leather and new fabric filled his nose. It made him feel nauseous, his stomach churning with anxiety and dread.

"What happens today doesn’t matter," he muttered quietly under his breath. "I just want Tessa to know the truth." The words were like a mantra, a tiny shred of hope he clung to as the car started and began rolling down the hill toward the nearby courtroom. Cole closed his eyes for a brief moment, trying to block out the noise, the fear, the uncertainty. He needed to steady himself, to focus.

When the car finally stopped, he opened his eyes just in time for the door to be yanked open. "Last day of seeing the sun," he muttered to himself, a bit of dark humor escaping his lips, though the words felt hollow. He forced himself to step out, each movement heavy, like the weight of the world was pressing down on him. The officer guided him through the courthouse parking lot, his boots echoing in the silence of the morning.

Inside the courthouse, the air was thick with tension. They led him to a holding cell, and as the door clanged shut behind him, he was left alone with his thoughts. His heart thudded in his chest, each beat louder than the last. He could hear it in his ears, a constant reminder of the storm raging inside him. He shook his head, trying to rid himself of the noise, trying to focus on anything else.

Outside the cell, muffled voices drifted through the walls—the sound of lawyers, the shuffle of papers, the hushed murmurs of the courtroom. I’m up soon, he thought, and the thought made his stomach drop. He closed his eyes again, feeling the weight of it all.

"Please be here, Tessa," he whispered into the empty cell, the words escaping like a prayer. He didn’t even know if she would come. Maybe she was done with him, maybe she hated him for everything he’d done. But a part of him still hoped. He needed something good to come from this, just one small thing. Maybe, just maybe, she would be there, and maybe, just maybe, he could make her understand.