"We used to wonder where war lived, what it was that made it so vile. And now we realize that we know where it lives… inside ourselves." -Albert Camus.

Chapter 26: Kill the monsters

"I just want to sleep for the rest of the week," Darren mumbled behind her. He was quite certain that he had never felt that tired in years.

Lauren suggested him to stay in her apartment for the night –at least what was left of it, and to avoid riding for another pair of minutes before reaching a bed.

Her hand finally found the light switch. She turned around to walk to the bathroom and take a hot shower to relax the muscles that were still tense from the adrenaline of that night, when she noticed that the living room was lacking the couch, one chair, the colorful posters of the wall, the DVD player and other various things. At first she thought she had been robbed, and her heart skipped quite a few beats.

The she realized.

"Caroline's stuff is gone." Lauren said. She opened the door of the girl's bedroom with a slap of her hand. Completely empty. "She… it seems that she… she moved out."

"What? Are you sure?" Darren asked.

"Of course I'm sure. What other reason could she have to borrow all of her stuff somewhere else?"

"Did she tell you something about…?"

Lauren shook her head.

She looked down to the empty spot where Caroline's chair used to be, and before Darren had the chance to say something else, she went to grab her towel from her bedroom and get shower.

Fifteen minutes later, she was in her pajamas, sitting on the bed beside Darren. He had put on old clothes he had left there the last time, and he was cleaning the wound at the side of his head. Then, he put a small bandage he found in Lauren's bathroom. Fortunately, it wasn't a deep wound and, besides having to stand people asking what happened to him, it wouldn't cause an issue.

"I can't believe she'd move out." Lauren let out after a moment of silence.

They did have the biggest fight of their lives, getting to tell one another the things they knew would hurt them the most. But moving out without even leaving a note was another level of hostility. It was ripping the other person off your life, and letting them know you didn't care that they were aware of it.

Darren didn't know what to say. "I'm sorry. Maybe she just needs time to come around."

Lauren didn't think so. Once Caroline had made a decision like this, it wasn't likely to turn back and regret it. They had that in common.

Darren's lips were on her forehead before she noticed, a hand delicately brushing her neck, coarse fingertips pressing on those particularly tight spots where stress focused. His voice came out low and sweet, like a subdued breeze; and she didn't know if this was due tiredness or empathy.

"You will process this better tomorrow."

Lauren nodded slowly. She slid under the sheets, resting on a side; but Darren's gaze had fixed upon the bedside table.

"Is that Perkin's gift?" He asked. The greyish package was under a pile of books, almost abandoned there. He remembered he had given her something during her birthday party, but the entire mess that happened afterwards got in the way of recalling it.

"I think so, yes." Lauren was still thinking about Caroline, and how much it hurt the fact that she hadn't picked on any hint of this collapse coming upon her.

"What is it?"

"I have no idea. I didn't open it." Darren was already reaching the package by the time Lauren answered. She sighed briefly, "I don't know if that's smart, Darren."

"I just want to see what it is."

He knew he shouldn't have the second he did it. Turned out that the rare grey gift wrap was a paper. The paper of the day after Rick died; the section of the article of Rick's death. Inside, a small red packet that clearly contained jewelry. It felt cold in his hands. A silver necklace, with the pendant shaped as the skeleton of a fish, and the letter R engraved over it. A shiver roamed his spine, and he shifted in his place.

It was all a big joke, like everything that came from them was.

Darren should've been more angry than bitter, but it wasn't what happened.

"It was in vain, all of it." He spat, more disgusted with himself than anything else. "The trip, going into his house. We didn't prove what we wanted to. It was a failure."

"It wasn't in vain." Lauren contradicted. "The press will publish the article we wanted, and you got to humiliate and scare the shit out of Michael, afterwards. It might hadn't gone as you wanted it to, but in my opinion, it was tenth times better. You can throw that to the garbage now."

The harsh tone in her voice sort of snapped him out.

Darren sighed, "Yeah, you're right."

He threw the macabre gift to the can in the corner, aiming skillfully. Lauren was still looking at him by the time he got under the sheets, with tired, heavy eyes. Her hand, still warm from the hot water, encircled his arm as her head fell to the corner of his shoulder, soft hair grazing his skin. She mumbled something about turning off the lights and hoped he'd understand her messy sentence.

Darren had a twisted, sort of terrifying dream that included drowning in the ocean, hands tainted in someone else's blood, and familiar voices screaming behind him. Every time, he woke up before he had the chance to turn around.

Lauren didn't remember what she dreamed of.

"Shit, shit. It's late. It's late." Lauren cursed repeatedly as she looked at the time in her phone.

"Can't you just skip classes today?" Darren cried, with eyes barely opened, and most of his body covered with messy sheets, watching her run from one side of the room to another while getting ready.

"No, you don't understand." Lauren explained, utterly stressed. "Today is the first presentation of the dramaturgy essay."

Mrs. Wood's class ended at ten, and it was already ten and fifteen minutes. If she couldn't turn in the essay she had been working on the entire year, she'd loathe herself forever.

Darren covered his head with the sheets again.

"Give Mrs. Wood my warmest greetings." The embodied voice announced.

Oh, she would.

"Mrs. Wood, please." Lauren called desperately. She had found the woman closing the door of the classroom behind her. "Here's my essay. It's finished. I'm so sorry I'm late."

The woman looked patronizingly at the paper Lauren was trying to hand her. The raised eyebrow said enough, but she still added:

"This is strange coming from you, Lopez." Mrs. Wood disapproved. "The class ended almost half an hour ago, I can't accept this."

"I've worked so hard, Mrs." Lauren cried. She was there; she couldn't say no. She would never forgive herself if she did. "I promise if you read it, it'll be worth it."

The woman sighed, her lips tightening, as her hand moved away from the tip of the doorknob. "What is your essay about?"

"It's about the concept of Shakespeare's vision of love, passion and marriage, put in comparison and contrast with contemporary portraits of romance. It was a hard work, but I think I got some interesting conclusions." She tried to sound as professional and it was possible to convince her professor.

The woman took the paper from her hands with an abrupt movement of resignation.

"I'm only making this exception because you're my best student, but let me tell you that if this happens again…"

"It won't." Lauren assured, focusing all of her willpower to avoid smiling. "Thank you so much."

It didn't matter what everyone else said, but being the teacher's favorite had its perks.

"Hey, I wasn't expecting you." Two days later, Darren's lips observed as they appeared behind the door. He grinned and held her jaw to give Lauren a brief peck on the lips. "I didn't buy anything to cook…"

"Don't worry, I brought lunch." Lauren assured, walking inside of the apartment as she showed the paper bag in her hands before leaving it on the table. "I didn't have performance class, so I thought I'd step by and see if you were home."

It was a lie, she had known for a week she wasn't going to have that class, but she wanted to surprise him. She sat down at the table, bit her lip and grinned; in that order. Her fingertips were sort of tingling. She hoped it wasn't too obvious.

"I have something for you."

Darren raised his eyebrows, looking genuinely intrigued. He took the seat beside her. "You mean besides the food?"

"Besides the food." Lauren grabbed the small blue package she was keeping in her bag and placed it on the table, containing a mix of anxiety and excitement.

"I don't know what I did to deserve this, but it kind of scares me." Darren commented, though the gratitude was transparent in the sudden shine of his eyes. He hummed a marching melody in an amusing anticipation as he opened the gift.

It was the same book he watched her reading that day in the beach, Love in the time of cholera. Not another copy of the same title, but the actual book, with its worn out corners and folding marks and Lauren's name neatly written on the first page.

"I've read that book like ten times since I was little. It means a lot to me, and I wanted you to have this very same copy of it."

Darren could tell beforehand that it was a deeply private symbol, but he was a bit confused about it.

"You're amazing, really, and don't get me wrong but –can I ask why now?"

Lauren's lips bent as she shifted in her seat.

"It's just that… I've noticed that you said something to me, a couple of times…. Something that's got significant weight, and this… It's not that I don't feel it, but I just find it very difficult to say out loud. I guess that this is my way to express it."

Darren raised an eyebrow. "Lauren Lopez," He called funnily, as he always did whenever he wanted to make fun of her. "Are you trying to tell me you love me?"

"I'm trying not to say it, actually. Thank you for your attention." Lauren was in the middle of her attempt of standing up from embarrassment, when Darren's arms caught her legs, sabotaging her escape, and then pulling from her hands until her face –red from the struggle and laughing- was at the same height as his.

"Thank you," He gently said then, looking into her eyes and cutting her laugh all of sudden. "I never really aspired to get this far, but I feel like the luckiest man alive knowing you feel like this."

Lauren slowly squatted to maintain the eye contact more comfortably. Her wrists were still held by Darren's hands, but the grip was tender now. "What do you mean?"

Darren's eyes squinted a tad while choosing the right words.

"That I think the last time someone has ever been so involved with me, I mean the real me, was like ages ago." He shook his head. "I never thought the person who did it again would be someone like you."

Lauren was feeling heat in her cheeks, and Darren's words were causing strange combination of bliss and sorrow in her stomach.

"Someone like me?"

"Yeah, you know, someone that has their shit together. Someone whose life wasn't a complicated shithole before they met me." Darren cleared it like if that was pretty obvious.

Lauren frowned, a bit upset. "I don't have my shit together. I'm not sure I ever really have had it."

She failed to recognize a point of her life that was standing still. She had to incriminate the best friend of her boyfriend to save him from a lifetime in jail that her own mother was trying to get him into, which pushed the already weak relationship between the two women even more distant, at the same time she was responsible of making sure her mother's illness didn't get out of control, and get assistance if it did, even when any attempt of help was rejected. Plus, her roommate had abandoned her, and she couldn't even manage to turn an essay on time.

Darren's fingers were burying gently on the scalp of her hair, on the top of her ear, and they slid through it in a very delicate gesture. There were times when he treated her so gently, she could easily start to think she was made of nothing but steam.

"You're different. You'll figure out what you want on time, and you're gonna get it. And you won't ruin it. You'll keep it together when you have to, and you're smart enough to protect yourself when you need it."

Lauren wasn't sure she understood what that speech was genuinely about, but there was something about it that made her feel miserable. For him and for herself.

She shook her head, "You are just as capable as I am. You can do everything you just said."

Darren rested his back on the chair, his hands loosening slowly to the point of letting her go. Lauren could point exactly at the time when Darren would decide to swallow a thought. It was impossible to ignore, it felt like if there was a curtain falling down between them, and he was suddenly so far away that she could touch him and feel the plastic underneath her fingertips.

He had grabbed the book and started to check it out, or pretended to do it so. Lauren didn't force the previous conversation.

"Ready for tonight?" She asked instead, sitting on her chair again and taking the lunch out of the paper bag. That night he was going to open the event in her uncle's hotel, but he didn't appear to listen. "Darren?"

He seemed suddenly deeply focused in the book. Lauren wasn't sure it was genuine.

"Yeah, I sure am."

"I'll see you there at eight thirty p.m., all right? Don't be late, the show starts at nine and they're very strict."

Darren nodded, his eyes still glued on the printed letters of the book. Lauren bit her cheek to not repeat it until he paid attention, but she was sure she couldn't hold it too long.

Darren leafed through the prologue, and his eyes focused for a moment on the beginner lines of the first chapter.

It was inevitable: the scent of bitter almonds always reminded him of the fate of unrequited love…

Looking back into it, it was incredibly naïve from her part, but when she arrived five minutes later than the hour when they were supposed to meet in the Battle Creek Hotel, she hoped to find him there already. After wandering through the hallways backstage, between the staff that kept greeting her continuingly, she gave up and decided to wait for him in the wings of the stage.

It was by eight forty when she started to feel a bit nervous. It was usual of him to arrive late, but not when it compromised her as well. Wes, her uncle, walked past her and said something like needing to make the sound check within the next five minutes, no exceptions.

Sure, don't worry, he'll be here in any moment, she assured, and waited for him to be at a certain distance before getting her cellphone and searching for Darren's name.

She didn't know whether to be worried or angry after three calls that were unanswered. So she allowed herself to be both, as she then called Rachel's number in an attempt to find Darren's current location. It rang for a long, torturing moment before she picked up. As if they had time to lose.

Rachel's voice was almost a scream to make herself audible over the constant hubbub in the background.

"Hey, Lo, what's up?"

"Hello, Rachel. Listen, this is urgent. Is there a chance you happen to know where Darren is?" Lauren asked, wincing slightly because of the annoying noises at the other side of the line.

"Darren?" Rachel continued sort of yelling, "Hell yeah, he's here at the Hole, of course!"

The sound of bikes engines dazed her for a brief moment, and she hoped that Rachel was just messing with her.

"He's… he's –Sorry, what?!"

"He's running a race right now, Lauren! I can't put him on the phone at the moment, you can imagine."

Lauren blinked a few times, in the verge of a crisis of hysteria. "But –but it's Wednesday."

Nothing about this made sense.

"Yeah, but he arranged a race like, two hours ago. I didn't think anyone would come, but you know how people are. They're so bored with their own lives that this place is full."

"But –Rachel, listen to me. He's got an event here in the Battle Creek Hotel, in ten minutes. What the fuck is he doing in a race?"

Rachel seemed confused about her involvement in the issue, so she just said, "I don't know. But last thing I saw he was winning. Maybe he'll get there later?"

But he needs to be here now. Not later.

Lauren wanted nothing but to throw the phone against the wall and watch it turn into a dozen of tiny pieces.

"Is there something I can do?" Rachel asked, worried about Lauren's silence.

Lauren breathed in and out before replying, "No, there's not. Thank you."

Lauren wasn't used to disappoint anyone, and least her relatives. That's why it was profoundly damaging for her pride when Wes started asking where the hell Darren was, and continued to give a speech about responsibility and the reasons of her generation being nothing but lazy parasites living off the hard working people. And she had to stand it through and through, lips sailed and constant nods of head. She didn't say a word to defend herself or Darren.

She remembered that was another reason she didn't work with her relatives. It was tenth times more upsetting to get yelled at by someone who had seen you wearing diapers.

"It's past nine, I have a crowd waiting and no one to fill the space until nine thirty. My night will be remembered as an absolute failure, thank you very much." He finished before turning around and walk like a madman towards the other wing.

Lauren ran a hand through her hair, sighing deeply. She should've never given him the opportunity to have a relevant event, or to represent her world in any way. Darren and commitment would never be hand on hand. She'd never forget he did this.

Just when she was thinking on how disappointed she was, a strange hand slid through her waist as a mild scent of cigars and fresh air hit her.

"Hey, babe. Hope I'm not too late." Darren was grinning slightly, and his guitar was already hanging from his shoulder, like if he was casually getting to a rehearsal ten minutes late.

Lauren directed him a glance she hadn't given him since the first time he tried to talk to her.

"You get on that stage before I have the chance to kill you." She warned him coldly.

Darren didn't test his luck.

It was incredible. Lauren tried to remain angry, but it was physically impossible. The gig was the most amazing performance she had ever seen. Turned out that there was a group of fans among the public, and within the first ten minutes they jumped from their seats and formed a crowd in front of the stage, and they wouldn't stop dancing and singing along for a single moment.

The diversity of Darren's set allowed him to gain the approval of the most distinguished characters of the dinner, and his closing songs were the most acclaimed by the group of teens, which at some point lost it completely.

Darren was amazing. She had never seen him so devoted and intimate with his music, and she didn't know if that was because he had drank before going onstage, or because of the race, or because of the adrenaline of arriving late; but it was a success. Wes ended up gratefully hugging Darren, showing his tender side once again, and Lauren held the need to ask if he still thought they were lazy parasites.

The concert finished after two extra songs the crowd begged him to play, and Wes –stunned and flattered- approved from the side of the stage. When the event continued with the upcoming numbers, Darren approached Lauren in the wing of the stage, completely covered in sweat but with an expression of absolute satisfaction drawn on his face.

He looked at her with eyes that asked for an opinion.

Lauren shrugged, her arms crossed over her chest. "That was okay, I guess."

"You're right, I guess I couldn't notice because of that annoying crowd screaming my name that blocked my view." He said sarcastically, putting his guitar on its case.

But Lauren had the comeback rehearsed in her head. "I won't say a word until I have dinner and a bottle of wine to forget the headache you put me through."

"That sounds great," Darren grinned, "Because your uncle mentioned something about taking whatever I want from the kitchen."

He grabbed her hand, gave a wink she merely rolled eyes at, and quickly pulled from it.

He really meant it when he said whatever he wanted, and they almost didn't find the way to carry all that food and wine in Darren's bike. They rode to Darren's apartment, because Lauren was avoiding to stay in her place for as long as she could. The emptiness still reminded her of Caroline, and she wasn't ready to deal with it.

"I can't believe you got there forty minutes later. You are such an asshole. You have no idea what I was going through back there."

She was sitting on the floor of Darren's room, the plate of spaghetti empty besides her; as she promised to do. Darren was serving another round of wine as she continued complaining. They had brought the TV inside of the room, and even when Lauren wasted fifteen minutes until she found a movie she thought suitable, the film became nothing but background noise very quickly.

"I just got there fashionably late. All musicians do." Darren seemed a bit entertained with the conversation, and not a bit ashamed of his behavior.

"Fashionably late! You're unbelievable. That's certainly a you'd-get-fired-if-this-was-a-job late."

"Well, I did it my way and it was a success." Darren said, his hands gesturing at the side of his body, the cup of wine between his fingers stirring slightly. "It's going to be an admissible method someday, trust me."

Lauren shook her head, mad at herself for not being able to maintain her completely justifiable anger.

"Now, are you going to explain why the hell you arranged a race at the same time? Besides, obviously, wanting people to yell at me."

Darren didn't reply instantly.

"I needed it. You know how things have been complicated lately. Without the race, I probably would've done something much more stupid, like not showing up at all. And we both know you'd probably never forgive me that one."

Lauren took a few sips of wine, the strong taste invading her mouth.

"You bet your ass I would not." Lauren angrily let out, half jokingly, half letting out the last tinge of resentment slip.

Darren laughed shortly. Then he placed the glass on the floor, and slid through the carpet the feet amongst them.

"I'm sorry," He whispered sweetly, then gently kissed her cheek, teasingly leaving his lips there over her skin. He knew too well that was the only way to debunk any argument of hers.

The warmth of his breath crashed against her neck, and Lauren closed her eyes; the hand holding the glass slowly lowering until it fell upon the floor. Lately, things have been too complicated to have time to merely feel one another, or kiss, or close their eyes at the closeness of each other.

Darren slowly kissed the line of her jaw, and his lips slid to catch the skin of her neck in a playful sucking. She tilted her head in an attempt to press her skin towards Darren's mouth, and teeth scraped against her before he reached her lips. Lauren knew that both of them smelled like wine and dry sweat, but she didn't let that inhibit her. Darren's kisses always had the perfect balance of familiar comfort and a renewed passion that swiped her off her feet.

They made out for a long while, there in Darren's bedroom floor. Then Lauren whispered something like thirsty, Darren raised an eyebrow and Lauren rushed to clear of wine and reached out to grab the glass before he could see the pink color of her face.

Darren dragged himself to the bed, and she was soon to follow him. They made love with the lights on, within lazy conversations and for a long time, forgetting the food on the floor for a long while. An hour later, Darren claimed he was hungry again and reached out for a plate without bothering into getting dressed.

Careful with the crumbs, Lauren suggested, amused by that scenic landscape. She was covered with the sheets and yet still felt slightly vulnerable, while Darren had no issue in walking around the apartment like a showman. Lauren wasted now thirty minutes until she found a movie that seemed interesting, and fell asleep within the next hour.

So, logically, she thought it was the TV the one that awoke her with a loud disturbing dialogue, and was surprised to notice it was Darren talking on the phone.

She glanced at the window to confirm it was not yet dawn. Darren sounded extremely distressed and confused in the phone. It had to be an emergency.

"Darren, what the hell happened?" Lauren asked, her voice coming out a bit hoarse. The boy was getting dressed so hurriedly, he managed to throw, clash and step into several things.

"I have to leave immediately. It's Joe." He answered, and his voice was quivering.

"What's wrong with him?"

He seemed to be confused about it. "They arrested him."

Lauren's heart skipped a beat. She sat up in an abrupt movement, "What do you mean they–?"

Darren was gone before she could finish the sentence.

Something about it felt wrong.

There are places that will always hold bad memories, even if they no longer represent a risk for you. This was Darren's case when he walked in the police station. There was a part of him that believed he'd end up there sometime, someway, like a fate he couldn't avoid.

He felt sick of the stomach, like if he was going to throw up the wine and the spaghetti of the dinner. So he sort of mumbled Joe's name when the policeman was too busy laughing of a colleague's obscene joke. He repeated it, louder this time, and it took the man five minutes to decide he was going to take him to the cells.

Darren followed the officer through a lengthy, poorly lightened hallway before they got to the prison cells. He didn't bother to indicate what was Joe's cell, which was the fourth to the left, instead he just stopped walking and waited for Darren to do the same. He quickly started to talk with the prisoner of the next cell, incredibly unprofessionally, and that's when Darren spotted him.

Joe stood up from the bunk and walked towards the bars, so desperately that his body ended up colliding into them. His throat emitted something similar to Thank God. Darren grabbed one of the bars with a hand, as if this gave them some privacy from the officer that was five feet away, or the prisoners pretending to sleep all around them.

"What the fuck happened?" Darren asked.

Joe was pale, out of breath and covered in sweat, like if he was the victim of an intense fever. His entire body was quivering mildly as he tried to stand still. He looked truly sick from head to tall.

"It's Tyler Sagner." Joe explained, his speech interrupted by constant pauses to gather air –or sanity, to continue. "They found him dead in Perkins' house this Sunday. He is pressing charges against me."

"Dead? How?" Darren cut, suddenly feeling out of breath as well. He had seen Tyler climbing out of the pool, or he was quite sure he did. He couldn't be dead.

Lauren's voice echoed somewhere in his head. Do you think he's okay? That guy you hit. His head looked really bad.

It couldn't be. It wasn't such a severe wound. It couldn't be.

"Three gun shots." Joe finally explained. "He bled out, and apparently Perkins couldn't call the ambulance in time."

Darren felt deeply relieved, but he hid it. He wanted to ask who did Joe think that happened that night after they were gone, but he preferred to prioritize his mental wellbeing. His friend seemed in the verge of losing his mind, and this was only aggravating Darren's own stomachache.

"They won't find any proofs, Jo. They'll have to let you out."

"But Darren –listen. I fucked it up. I really fucked it up." He ran a hand through his hair, and Darren realized that he was shaking too intensively for it to be normal, even in that situation.

Joe glanced at the policeman, but he was too immersed in the condescending, loud chat with the other prisoner to even notice them. Darren got the closest he could to the cell, his forehead hitting the metal bar. From there, he could see perfectly the red netting in Joe's eyes and the twitches of the smallest muscles on his face. And there was something else behind those eyes he could not decode.

Joe's jaw trembled when his lips opened, but words came out a long time afterwards. And before they reached the air, Darren knew already that something was really, really wrong.

"I did it." He whispered so quietly, that Darren wasn't sure he heard what he heard.

So he didn't say anything.

Joe slowly closed his eyes, and then, when he opened them, he looked at Darren directly. Darren had never felt a pair of eyes so heavy upon him. They were red and full of fear. Genuine fear that Darren was seeing for the first time in his best friend. They were practically asking for help. Asking him for help.

"I killed Tyler. I did it." It sounded almost like if he was trying to convince himself.

Darren would still not believe it. The nausea was making it hard to focus, and a part of him thought that if he focused hard enough, he'd wake up on his bed, and Lauren would tell him to turn the TV off before she threw it through the window.

"What are you saying?"

Joe gulped, his trembling hand wrapping around the same bar Darren did before, Joe's thumb pressing Darren's little finger. He was cold as snow.

"You were out with the bikes, and Michael started talking to me. You know how manipulative he can be. He waited until I was alone because he knew I'd be stupid enough to fall on his trap." Joe explained, finally venting it all out nonstop, like a dam that had collapsed, "And I was. He told me it was all Tyler's idea, always. He told me he was the one who lost the race and got punched by Rick, that he was the one who wanted revenge, that he was the one who broke Rick's bike. He told me that only killing him would make justice to Rick's death. I know it doesn't make sense, but in that moment it did. So I did it. I shot him… three times, and then ran off. I fucked it up so bad, Darren. What am I going to do?"

Darren thought he'd not be able to talk if he tried to.

"And that's not it. They're going to use this to charge all of their accusations against me. They'll put me as the brain of their stupid pub and everything they did there. They'll find the way to make it fit. You know how many things they will charge me for? I'm so fucked up this time. I can't go to prison, Darren. You've got to help me. I can't –"

Darren couldn't find any words to say for the first time. It was a lot of information, and he didn't know how to handle it. He gulped and remained silent for a moment, trying to find a tip to pull from that muddle that could put some order to it all.

"You're not going to prison." He finally said, though he didn't know if that statement had a basis.

"You've got to help me, Darren. Please. They'll give me a life sentence. I'm gonna be stuck in here all my life. Darren, I'm so fucked up."

Joe was hyperventilating and continued repeating the same sentences like a broken record. He had never seen him like that. His eyes were madly dancing from a side to another, and his voice couldn't hold a word straight.

Darren's arm got between the bars, and he held the side of his head to force Joe to look at him.

"You need to calm down, okay? I'm going to call my parents. They'll get you the best lawyer they can find. You're not going to prison, all right? I'm not going to let that happen. I'm not going to let it happen, do you understand that?"

It took a while, but Joe's breath slowly reached a more normal rhythm. Then, he nodded.

"I'm sure we can get you out of here today with a bail." Darren was trying to remain the calmest it was possible. He needed to be Joe's firm pillar or else he'd crumble down.

"I don't think they'll allow a bail…"

"They will, when my parents call them." Darren assured, "When we meet the lawyer, we'll see our options. You can't freak out before that happens. You need to stay calm and sane, and you need them to see that. All right?"

Joe merely nodded slowly again. Darren's firm grip had worked into bringing him back. He was still shaking, but at least he was breathing like a sane person.

The officer then said something like Thelma and Louise, time's out, but they ignored him.

"I won't leave. Okay? I won't." Darren said, "I'll stay to see what I can do to get you out of here as soon as possible."

"Please, don't leave me here." Joe whispered as the officer pushed Darren's shoulder the way out. Darren's wrist hit the bar with that pull, making a quiet gasp of pain slip out of his throat.

"I'm not."

Joe watched him walking away through the lengthy, poorly lightened hallway, until the pressure of his forehead against the bars hurt severely.

And Darren didn't mean it to be a lie, but the first thing he did once the policeman walked him out, was to run to the nearest passage, bend on his knees and throw up.

A/N: PLOT TWIST!

Please review so I can feed the attention seeker monster inside me. I will love you for ever. Pretty please? Thank you! - N