Chapter 4

Elena pressed her back on the prison yard. It felt chilly and cold. The chain link fence made noises as the wind blew. All those shrill noises.

The other inmates moved like wolves, waiting for her to show weakness. But she wouldn't. Cause she wasn't the girl who was dragged into this place soft and scared and small. But the weight of everything she'd been through hadn't been lifted.

It still pressed into her. Adrian turning his back on her, Claire's lie and the little smirk of the wicked Vanessa every time their eyes met.

Her fingers found the necklace again, the paintbrush pendant now warm from too much touching. She found herself always touching it. She should have let it go but that was the only thing she had left, and she hated herself for still holding on.

The yard reeked of sweats. Why do prisons always smell sweaty? The concrete walls were baking under the sun. With voices that were cursing at each other and laughing. But it didn't sound like a real laugh. 

Carla sat with her pack, her fellow crew eyeing Elena like she could eat her up. Elena stared back at her, forcing her face to be mean like stone. Her eyes were void of any emotion. She had learnt the rule: flinch and you are a dead meat. But inside her, her heart was beating fast that she feared they would hear her.

Clare's face flashed, why had she done it? Sold her out for what? What did Vanessa promise her? And Adrian….. Not even once had he shown up to listen.

A shout across the yard broke the thought going through in her head. Two inmates were already fighting, knuckles were cracking and the guards dragged their feet pretending not to see it.

Elena shifted from there and went to the edge of the yard, she found a patch of shade by the wall and sat there. Then she pulled out her sketchbook from her waistband, the only piece of herself they hadn't taken yet.

Her hands were itching her to draw, but anytime she tried, it didn't come out good. Not the soft shapes she used to draw but something jagged and ugly like the scar forming inside her.

And then she realised who she was sketching again. Adrian. Always him, then she stared at the drawing till she was lost in her thoughts. That was when a shadow fell over her, which she didn't notice.

“Nice necklace,” Carla rasped, leaning in so close that Elena caught the stench of her breath. “Bet it’s worth something. Hand it over.” she said.

Elena held the necklace like her life depended on it. “No,” she said.

Carla's mouth twisted revealing her ugly scar. “Look at you,” she sneered. “You think you are tough now, princess? This place will grind you down to dust.”

Elena stood up, shoving her sketchbook back in her waistband. Her legs were weak but she kept a mean face. “Try me” her voice didn't waver, though her knees did.

Carla's laugh was sharp like a dog barking. “Crazy bitch” she muttered. Stepping back with her crew behind. Elena let out a breath she didn't know she was holding. She won this round, but it was only for a matter of time before someone would back away.

Within her, a new kind of fire was growing, not just for survival but fury. She was angry. Someone had framed her, planted that vial that turned her life into this nightmare.

Vanessa's face flashed in her mind with all perfect tears and venom. Clarie's followed. With her guilt soaked eyes that wouldn't meet Elena's. And then Adrian, just laying silent as those guards chained her.

She trusted and loved them, yet they buried her alive. The thought of it alone was a spark that was igniting something dangerous and when she got out… if she did, she would burn their lies to the ground.

Adrian sat hunched over the bar, a glass of whiskey in his hand which he hadn't drunk yet. He hung his jacket on the back of the chair, his tie was pulled loose like it could ease the turmoil in his heart but it didn't.

It'd been four weeks. Four weeks after that gala, the sound of Elena’s voice, her begging, her screaming, stuck inside his skull. He hadn’t slept through the night since.

The case against her was airtight. Her prints on the vial. Claire swearing under oath. Vanessa cried pretty tears for the cameras. It all lined up too perfectly, like someone had written a script. But it didn’t line up with her. Not with the Elena he knew. Not with the girl who flushed pink when his hand brushed hers. The girl who sketched his hands in the margins of her notebooks when she thought he wasn’t paying attention.

Richard Hale slid into the booth opposite him, his shoulders stiff with ruffled hair. He flagged the bartender with two fingers before even looking at Adrian.

“You look awful," he muttered. “The trial is set for next month, Reeve is gunning for life. Adrian tightened his grip on the glass till it cracked. “And Claire?”

Richard hesitated, his eyes shifting to the side. Which Adrian didn't miss. “She's….. dodging Reeve. She's shaky as hell but Vanessa,” he exhaled rubbing his hand on his face “Vanessa's holding steady. She keeps saying Elena was obsessed, unstable and playing it for the camera.”

“Obsessed?” Adrian's voice came out rough which was closer to a growl. “Elena barely even spoke to Vanessa. Why the hell would she…..” He caught himself off the thought of everything clawing up before he could choke up.

No, Elena had never been jealous. Not even cruel. But then Clarie's words and Vanessa's tears. All together with his mom's warning everything lined up so well like a backup story.

He leaned across the table, as he narrowed his eyes towards Richard. “You are hiding something from me Richard. What is it?”

Richard took his time while lifting his glass and he swallowed his drink like someone who was choking. Then he set it down without looking at Adrian. 

“I don't know what you are talking about”

“Bullshit”, Adrian shouted slamming his hands on the table with the drinks spilling over. Loud enough to turn a few heads but he didn't care. He was already fed up with everything.

“You have been off since day one, if u know something say it.”

Richard didn't flinch or show any emotion. But his hand twitched on the glass as he held the glass tightly. “I'm doing my job Adrian. You asked me to dig into Claire, which is what I'm doing.”

Adrian stared at him, searching his face for whatever thing that would give away the mask Richard was trying to pull up. He had known him since day one. He had been there through everything. The deals, the nights that nearly got them killed.

But now there was a crack, small and sharp that was enough to make Adrian's gut twist. He stood up taking his jacket. “Find her tonight, I want the truth” he snapped.

He didn't wait for Richard's answer, he just left.

Outside, the city was noisy with horns, footsteps and voices. But none of it reached him. All he heard was her voice, broken and begging: “It wasn't me”.

He had let her go, blinded by his mother's doubts and Reeve's smugness certainly blind him.

But what if she had been telling the truth all along?

The thought crawled under his skin and lodged there like it found a new home, pulling him towards something dark, something he wasn't sure he wanted to see.

Back in the prison, Elena's name was called. The guard tone gave nothing away, but her stomach did those flip flops. She followed the guard, with the chains on her wrist dragging by.

The warden's office smelled like coffee which had gone cold. Behind the desk sat a woman with gray hair and her eyes lined with years of watching too much. She didn't bother with small talk or greetings, she just pointed to a chair for Elena.

“You’ve got a letter”, her voice was flat as she slid the envelope across the desk.

No return address, just Elena's name written in a handwriting she didn't recognise.

Her fingers fumbled as she tore the envelope, the paper nearly ripping into half. Inside it was one sheet with plain words banged out in a typewriter or a cheap painter. With no name or hint of who sent it.

‘They lied– look closer at the ones who cried’.

Her chest almost stopped beating as she read it again.

‘The ones who cried’. 

Was it Claire ? Or Vanessa? Or someone else?

It felt like hope and poison was tangling together. A proof that someone out there knew. Confirming that she wasn't crazy.

She folded the paper carefully with shaky hands and slipped it into her pocket. With her thoughts running in circles. Whoever sent this wasn't just out there, they were watching and waiting. But for what? And why her?

As she was led back to her cell, Carl's crew leaned against the bar watching her whispering something she couldn't hear and Elena kept her head high.

She held the letter to her side, she wasn't just surviving anymore, not just counting the days and staying invisible. Someone had set her up and someone else knew it and she was going to find out no matter the cost.

That night, she sketched again, but it wasn't Adrian's face. It was a face she hadn't drawn in years. It was Claire's face. Claire with that soft smile that never reached her eyes, who couldn't meet her gaze.

She could almost see the quilt bleeding through the sketch, and she would drag the truth out of her one way or the other.