Days had passed since her arrest. No bail. Not even a chance. They considered her too risky—too much of a runner. Chloe scoffed at the thought. A runner? Seriously? Were they kidding? The snowstorm of the century was raging outside, burying Arcadia Bay in white. No one was getting in or out of the town, and they thought she was going to take off?
This wasn't about flight risk. This was about punishment. But maybe she deserved it.
Where the hell was everybody? Flings, drinking buddies, partners in crime—not a single one of them had bothered to show up. These were people who should've understood. People who knew how fucked the system was. They'd been in and out of courtrooms and jail cells just like her, yet none of them had even called. Justin had been arrested twice in the short time they'd been together, and he hadn't even bothered to check in.
Chloe wasn't naive. She didn't expect all of them to show up. That wasn't how life worked. Most of them had their own issues with the law, and courtrooms weren't exactly where they wanted to spend their time. But still… someone should've thought she was worth visiting, right?
Apparently fucking not. But maybe she deserved that too.
All this time, she'd been an expert at lying—lying to others, lying to herself. Convincing herself she wasn't alone, that people cared. She'd never make that mistake again. Fuck them. She'd managed on her own before, and she'd do it again.
The courtroom had been brighter than she'd expected—too bright. The lights hurt her eyes, and the silence weighed heavy, making each breath feel like a chore. Chloe stood stiffly, the cold steel cuffs biting into her wrists. They left red marks on her skin, an aching reminder that she was trapped.
The clank of the gavel still echoed in her ears.
Two years.
The judge's words had barely registered, but the sentence slammed into her like a brick. Two years in prison for grand theft auto. They were going to send her to Coffee Creek Correctional Facility as soon as the storm cleared. Nineteen years old, and no more juvie. No more mister nice guy. This was real prison now.
Chloe felt stone-cold, refusing to let any emotion show. Not here. Not in front of the judge. Not in front of the officers. And definitely not in front of David and her mom. But inside? Inside, she was roiling. She wanted to scream, kick, punch something—anything.
Back in the holding cell, Chloe slumped onto the edge of the thin mattress, the cold seeping into her bones. The concrete walls felt like they were pressing in on her from all sides. The anger that had kept her upright in the courtroom had started to drain, leaving a heavy knot of anxiety in its place.
Two years for borrowing her stepdad's car? What a fucking joke. Though deep down, she knew she had been lucky. With her history, she could've been looking at double that—no problem. The fact that she had stopped right when the police showed up had been the only thing that saved her. That was Max, not her. Max had been there, and once again, stopped her from diving too deep into the shit hole.
Max. Where's Max? It had been days since the arrest, days of nothing but silence. No visits. No word from her. No nothing.
Max wouldn't abandon her. Not again. She couldn't. Something must've happened to her. But what? Was it that guy, Jefferson? What was his deal? And why had Max been so terrified of him? Chloe needed answers. She needed to know that Max was okay. She couldn't take this silence much longer.
The door creaked open, pulling Chloe from her thoughts. David walked in first, stiff as ever, his face a mask of anger and disappointment, but also with a hint of smug satisfaction. He didn't need to say anything; it was all over him, radiating off him in waves. Here comes the lecture, Chloe thought bitterly, folding her arms across her chest.
Behind him, Joyce followed, her face pale. She looked like she'd aged a decade overnight, her eyes red and swollen from crying. Chloe's heart twisted. Seeing her mom like this hurt more than the cuffs, more than the small, cold cell.
Before Chloe could stop herself, the words slipped out. "Have you heard from Max?" Her voice cracked, the desperation she'd been trying so hard to hide spilling out. Damn it. She couldn't afford showing weakness now.
Joyce exchanged a glance with David before turning back to her. "Max?" she asked, her voice filled with confusion. "Isn't she back in Seattle by now?"
Chloe blinked, her heart stuttering. What? "No, she's not, Mom. I—I helped her escape. That's why I needed the car. Didn't you hear me at the trial? She was with me when I got caught."
David cut in, his voice hard. "Enough, Chloe. Max was in no condition to leave that hospital, and you know it. You think you're going to spin some fantasy about how you 'saved' her?" His eyes narrowed. "You took off with her, stole a car, and joyrode like it was some kind of game. You nearly trashed it in the process. And why couldn't you take your own car?"
"You know it's wrecked," Chloe muttered under her breath, avoiding his gaze.
"Of course I know it's wrecked, Chloe. It was a rhetorical question!" David's voice rose, anger barely contained. "I spent half my paycheck fixing that up for you, remember? One day, and you've trashed it. If you'd taken care of it, as I know you can, you wouldn't have needed to steal mine. But no, you can't even handle that much responsibility."
Chloe's hands clenched into fists. "It wasn't even me who trashed it! It was Max!"
"Max?" David's face twisted in disbelief. "So you're blaming Max now?"
Chloe flinched. "Whatever. You don't get it, David. She begged me to help her. She was terrified of Jefferson. That's why I had to get her out of there!" But even as the words left her mouth, doubt began to creep in. Had Max really been okay? What if Chloe had made everything worse? What if Max was hurt—or worse—because of her?
She shook the thought away, her voice trembling as she spoke again. "You know Jefferson's out, right? That's why Max—"
Joyce's face softened, something like pity crossing her features. "We saw it on the news, Chloe. They're saying he was wrongly accused, that there's not enough evidence. But… what does that have to do with anything?"
Chloe sighed. "I don't know, Mom. Max—Max thinks Jefferson's dangerous. That he has something to do with Rachel going away."
David scoffed, his patience clearly worn thin. "Where's your proof, Chloe? You keep throwing these accusations around, but it's just words. Mark Jefferson's not the one in trouble now—you are. Two years in prison because of your choices. That's the reality you need to face, not some made up story about your friend's ex-teacher."
Joyce's voice was soft but firm. "Chloe, I love you more than anything, but this… this is something you did to yourself."
Chloe's chest felt like it was caving in. Why wouldn't they believe her? "Mom, please… Max could be in danger. Maybe Rachel too. You have to check on her, on them both. Promise me! I can't do shit from here."
Joyce looked torn, guilt and worry on her face. "Chloe, baby… I don't know what's going on in your head, but I wish you could think about helping yourself for a change—"
The guard stepped into the room, clearing his throat. "Time's up."
Chloe's heart sank as she looked between her mom and David. No one had shown up for her. Not Max. Not her friends. And now, not even her mom wanted to help her. She was utterly alone and completely helpless.
"I'll visit you, Chloe," Joyce whispered, her voice thick, her eyes welling up. "I'll be there. I promise."
Chloe nodded, her throat too tight to speak. She didn't rise to hug her mom or say good bye, but let the guard guide her away. It was Officer Anderson, Barry, who had been there since her arrest. He was firm, no-nonsense, and Chloe could never tell if he was pissed off or just exhausted by life.
As Joyce and David were escorted out, Chloe turned to Barry, taking a deep breath before blurting out, "Hey, uh… Barry, can I have my phone for just a little while? I need to check in on a sick friend."
Barry gave her a look, his expression unreadable as ever. Chloe, despite the situation, couldn't help but smirk, even if it felt hollow. "I promise not to use it to, you know, rule my crime empire from within these walls."
Barry raised an eyebrow, his lips tightening in clear disapproval. Not amused. Chloe had expected that, but still, it was worth a shot.
"Nope," he said flatly. "Not happening."
Chloe rolled her eyes, biting down the sharp retort she wanted to hurl back at him. Whatever.
The door slammed shut behind him, leaving Chloe alone again in the small, windowless room. She sat back and curled up on the narrow, uncomfortable mattress, still seething in silence.
The sobs started as a pain in her stomach, slowly moving up her body like an uncomfortable, hot belch until it burst from her mouth. She couldn't help it. She tensed her body, scrunched her face, but the next sob was already on its way up her throat. "Keep it together, fuckface." She bit down on it, trying to stop the sob from getting real.
"Oh fuck", she groaned, before the next sob broke through. This one she couldn't even silence. It felt like the convulsive gasp echoed through the cell, and her eyes started to leak. Her vision blurred as the tears fell, despite her fighting to hold them back, angrily wiping them away. She hated herself, hated how vulnerable she felt, how weak.
A knock on the door startled her.
Chloe looked up, quickly blinking away the last tears, sniffing hard. Barry. He stood in the doorway, his arms crossed, but his expression wasn't as stern as before.
He cleared his throat.
"Here," he grunted, stepping in just enough to drop her phone onto the bed. "Don't make me regret it."
Chloe looked up in surprise, still sniffling. "Seriously?"
Barry didn't say a word, just gave her a stern nod and stood by the door, arms crossed. He didn't look thrilled about it, but his eyes showed something close to sympathy.
"You've been dealt a rough hand, Chloe. I'll give you that. I'll be back for the phone in fifteen."
When Officer Anderson left, Chloe wasted no time. She snatched up the phone, her hands trembling slightly as she powered it up. She wasn't expecting anything. But maybe, just maybe, someone had tried to call… or even message her.
As the screen flickered to life, her heart skipped.
One new message.
She frowned, staring at the screen. From whom?
Unknown number.
Her fingers trembled as she opened the message. What the fuck was this? At first, she couldn't comprehend what she was reading. She read it again.
"Chloe, I am so sorry. I tried to fix everything, but all I did was make everything worse. There doesn't seem to be a way out for me. Don't try to find me, but don't forget me. I love you, always. Max."
Her hands shook as she read the words again, trying to make sense of it, trying to process what she was seeing. Max. It was from Max! But what did it mean? What the hell did she mean?!
This was a sick joke. It couldn't be serious. This isn't funny, Max.
She didn't think—her fingers darted to the call button. It rang once. Twice. Then came the hollow, automated voice.
"The number you have dialed is not available. Please leave a message after the tone."
Chloe held her breath as she dialed again, her hands trembling so hard she could barely keep hold of the phone. No answer. Just the same anonymous voicemail. No indication of who had sent the message.
She tried again. And again.
Her whole body was trembling now, her mind flooding with a thousand desperate thoughts. What did she mean by no way out? And don't forget her? Why wouldn't she answer?
Chloe couldn't take it. The walls of the cell were crushing her, suffocating her in their confinement.
"No," she whispered. "No. No. No."
She threw the phone down, rushing to the cell door. Her breath came in shallow bursts as she slammed her fists against the metal, kicking at it, screaming.
"LET ME OUT! BARRY! SOMEBODY!" Her voice cracked as she banged on the door, her whole body shaking violently. She couldn't stay trapped here, while Max was out there—somewhere—alone and in danger.
She kicked the door again, harder, her legs shaking with the effort. "HELP! HELP ME! BARRY! LET ME OUT!"
The cold metal door stood solid and unmoving, the echoes of her screams bouncing off the walls, fading into silence.