16

Hope’s POV

“Did you kill the guard, Hope?”

Blake’s question hits me like a poisoned knife in the heart. I tear my eyes away from his gaze to look at the peeling paint on the dilapidated wall, pretending not to hear him.

Silence fills the air, save for the ringing in my ear and Blake lets his question hang, patiently waiting for me to answer him. The only problem is, I do not know how to. How do you confess to a crime? How do you confess to taking someone else’s life?

Yes sir. I did it sir. I killed that man, sir. Why? Oh, because I didn’t like the way he was touching my friend, sir.

A minute passes, then two and then some more. The silence goes on and the already cold air grows colder. I do not know how long we both sit crossed-legged on the mattress with me watching the paint on the wall peel and him boring his eyes into me.

“Hope, I woke up to a body lying on the floor of the truck. The other guards wouldn’t say it aloud but I heard them whisper. They said you did it, they said you