My heart races as I stumble forward, catching myself just before my head meets the cold, speckled gray of the concrete wall.
The bars of the small jail cell clang shut behind me, and I whirl around, clutching the cold metal. The vibrations reverberate through my hands as I shake them, futilely rattling the bars as if sheer force could break them open and set me free.
When it doesn't work, frustration bubbles over, and I scream, stomping in place, the sound echoing off the walls.
My head lowers, and I glare up through my lashes at the man responsible for this. My captor's expression is steely, his gaze unfeeling as he watches me, but I catch something strange flicker through his eyes before he quickly looks away, his arms crossed.
He stands rigid, and I notice the goosebumps along his forearms, his skin bristling, as though standing near me is somehow unsettling.
But I can't care less about why. The heavy smell of rust fills my nose, but it's barely noticeable over the chaos in my head, the singular focus: When can I get out of here? I need to find Evan. I need to make sure he's alright.
"Let me out!" I demand, my tone sharp, leaving no room for argument.
Kieran, with an infuriating calm, drags a chair across the floor and slumps down into it. He crosses his legs, resting his arms across his chest, one brow arching as if he's only mildly curious. I scream again, shaking the bars with all my strength, not caring if anyone hears.
Not that anyone would; Westfall is a tiny town with hardly any signs of life. The sheriff's station is small—just a few worn desks, a fluorescent light that buzzes as it swings slightly from its cord, and this cramped jail cell tucked into the corner.
"Get me out of here!" I shout, feeling a wave of anger surging through me as I lock eyes with Kieran again, daring him to look away.
His gaze doesn't waver, his expression stony. The silence stretches on, mocking my efforts, until exhaustion finally sets in, pulling the fight out of me.
Tears slip down my cheeks as I press my forehead to the cold metal, letting reality settle in, harsh and unforgiving. I hear a slight shuffling sound, but I don't look up, barely registering his presence.
When I finally speak, my voice is quiet, edged with desperation. "Can you please just let me out?"
"What's the matter, why are you crying?" His voice is low, strained in a way that makes me glance up, frowning.
There's a strange tension in his words, as if he's pushing them out against his will, barely managing to keep control.
Kieran's eyes meet mine briefly, but his gaze falters, slipping away just as quickly. He scoffs, shifting in his seat, the muscles in his arms taut as he looks past me.
"Enough with the tears. It's all for the best, believe me," he mutters, though the words sound hollow.
A new surge of anger flares within me, hot and raw. I had believed him when I first came here, believed that he was only here to help, that he understood how desperate I was to find Evan. But now, as I look at him, all I feel is fury.
It's been a year since I last saw Evan, and now he's out there somewhere, alive. The thought that I could be trapped in here while Evan roams free is agony.
Evan is mine and mine alone. We'd promised each other everything—our minds, bodies, souls. And here I am, locked up in this miserable cell, torn away from the one person I came here to find.
A broken sob escapes me, and Kieran's face twists, his eyes squeezing shut as if my pain affects him more than he wants to admit.
"Please," I say, pressing on, ignoring the ache in my chest, focusing only on what I need. "Can you please let me go? I swear I won't bother anyone in Westfall. Maybe I messed up by staying too long. Fine. I'll take the blame if that's what you want, but please—let me go. Let me find him."
Kieran's jaw clenches, his gaze fixed somewhere far off, his fingers pinching the bridge of his nose, as though my words are just more weight he has to carry.
He doesn't respond, and the silence crushes my last hope. Exasperated, I pull my phone from my pocket, scrolling through my photos, and land on the one that can explain everything better than words.
I turn the screen toward him, and Kieran's expression darkens as he looks down, his gaze hardening as he stares at the image.
"See? This is Evan Graham," I say, my voice trembling. "I don't know what you all call him here, and I don't care. This is my Evan. A year ago, he had an accident near here, and everyone said he was dead. But he's not. He's here. Just let me go with him. He's the love of my life."
Kieran's gaze narrows to slits, his expression unreadable, but something dark and animalistic flickers in his eyes.
I take a step back, heart pounding, my mind scrambling to make sense of what I thought I saw. I could have sworn his teeth looked sharper for a second, like canines, but it must be a trick of the light.
Kieran moves closer, reaching out, but his hands are careful, his fingers brushing mine as he takes my phone. He doesn't touch me, almost as if he's afraid of the contact. That small, cautious gesture only twists my heart further.
But then, his grip tightens on my phone.
"Hey!" I shout, reaching out instinctively, my voice laced with panic. "You're going to break it!"
But before I can even finish, Kieran's grip tightens with a strength that seems impossible, and in one swift motion, he crushes my phone in his hand. I watch in horror as the screen shatters, pieces of metal and glass crumbling to the floor.
The door swings open, and Lydia, frail and stooped, steps in, her face full of a quiet knowing as she observes the scene.
My scream fills the room, raw and shrill.
"What the hell are you doing?! You can't just destroy my stuff! That was my phone—my whole life was on there!" My fists slam against the bars, the metal cold and unyielding under my hands, as Kieran watches impassively, brushing the remnants of my phone from his hands like it's nothing.
"It had everything important to me—my photos, my contacts, my—everything! You had no right!"
Kieran's expression shifts to a snarl, anger sparking in his eyes as he brings a hand to his chest, tapping it sharply, as if in frustration.
"I'm your—"
But before he can finish, Lydia places a hand over his mouth, cutting him off with a gentle firmness. "Not now, Kieran," she murmurs. "Let's talk when her anger's had a chance to cool. Believe me, kid, the last thing you want is to make her angrier."
I'm not even paying attention. Their words flow around me like background noise, barely registering as I stand there, seething, my anger mixing with fresh tears that burn my eyes.
It's infuriating, this sense that they're speaking a language I can't understand, that they're having some hidden conversation I can't be a part of.
All I know is that Kieran just destroyed my only link to the outside, my only chance to escape this place. The realization hits me like a physical blow.
"Damn it, my phone!" I scream, my voice raw, filled with despair.
I press my hands to my face, my body trembling, the tears flowing freely. "You don't understand—I can't do anything without it! I had everything on there! My photos, my messages, my money… everything I need to survive."
Kieran steps forward, the rage in his eyes melting into something softer, something almost remorseful. He hesitates, his arms hovering mid-air, torn between reaching out and keeping his distance.
"Stop crying," he whispers, his voice barely audible, as if the sight of my tears is something he can't bear. "I'll…I'll get you a new one. I'll buy you ten new phones if it helps. Just… don't cry like that."
The words come out as a plea, soft and full of an agony I don't understand.
Despite myself, a spark of hope flickers within me. I keep my gaze on him, watching as his expression shifts, a faint softness creeping in. Lydia, on the other hand, shakes her head, a resigned look on her face.
Ignoring her, I lean closer, desperate. "No need for new phones. Just…let me see him. Let me go with Evan, and you'll never have to see me again."
Kieran's face hardens, his jaw clenched. With a low growl, he grabs the chair he'd been sitting on, lifting it with a strength that defies logic. He hurls it across the room, shattering it against the wall in a spray of wood and splinters.
I stumble back, falling against the cold concrete wall, my hands pressed to my mouth to stifle a scream.
Lydia sighs, shaking her head in disappointment.
"Stop saying his name!" Kieran's voice booms, low and furious, the anger rippling through him like an unstoppable force. "You don't get it—you've been fixated on him, obsessed. He's not here! He didn't want to be here!"
His words hit me like a punch, leaving me breathless, my hand gripping my chest as if to hold myself together.
Kieran slams his hand against his chest, his gaze fierce and full of pain. "I'm the one here. I'm the one who's shown up, again and again. Me!"
"Kieran," Lydia steps forward, her hand gentle as she touches his shoulder, her voice calming. "Don't blame her. She doesn't know."
Kieran's eyes meet mine, burning with a strange, unreadable intensity. For a moment, he looks at me with a raw vulnerability that catches me off guard.
"I'm sorry," he mutters, his gaze dropping to the floor, and then, just as quickly, he's gone, leaving the room with a hollow click of the door.
I watch him go, confusion and frustration warring within me, my heart feeling heavier than ever as the silence swallows the space where he'd been.