Innocence Doesn't Get You Far Novels & Stories

Elsa lay on her bed contemplating ,was it the right time for all this?She couldn't believe all that was happening around.She felt as if in a trance.How could she blurt out every dingle details to her mother?She didn't expect her mom to discuss it so openly to her dad .She was unable to look up at her dad who also seemed worried and tried avoiding her.She felt like a criminal and didn't know how to apologise for her folly.She had no idea what dad was going to do.She had been banned from attending her college!They said its because she is unwell but she surely was no fool to believe it

*Why can’t you just walk away? Because justice isn’t about innocence. Not really. It’s about power. It’s about who can twist the rules, who can find the seams and pull until they tear. The truth didn’t matter as much as the narrative that survived in the courtroom. Luc didn’t need to be clean. He just couldn’t be *completely* dirty. If I could find enough—reasonable doubt, procedural errors, even the suggestion of entrapment—I could tip the scales. I could win. But it wasn’t just about the challenge anymore.

••• Innocence can be captivating, innocence can be dangerous at times, but in the devil's very own tale, it can become dangerously captivating. •••

“Bloody.” My stomach twisted. I didn’t like this story, and I didn’t understand why he was telling it now, of all times. “The father wasn’t home. So the little boy ran around the neighborhood begging for help.” The silence that followed was suffocating. “That little boy learned 3 things that day. Do you want to know what they were?” It seemed like a rhetorical question. My answer didn’t matter… he was practically lost in his tale. “One… that safety doesn’t exist. People can be bought and sold. Two… good people get punished. And three…” He glanced at me, his eyes hard. “The system always protects the wrong people.”

"Apparently My parents are involved in all kind of shits like robbery, theft and possession of illegal firearms and what lands them a lifetime imprisonment is they hit and run an innocent child while under the influence. They hit that child two times and my mother went out of the car to confirm if the victim is dead then went back inside the car as if nothing happens and drove off to God knows where. Unfortunately to my parents there is a witness who saw what happened and testify to the court to incarcerate them." I did not notice that I was crying. Gideon sits on my bed facing me and he is wiping my tears from my face.

She informed him, he sighed in relief as he was worried about everyone. She asked further,”I am sorry, because of me you have missed Pi's birthday party. Did you call her or family?” " No , it's not your fault . It was just a situation , I forgot to inform them , my mind was messed up due to everything. I disappointed her again.” He said sadly, while looking at the road. He was driving the car fast as he wanted to reach home as soon as possible, as he believed that she would forgive him after seeing her surprise gift.

she said, her voice almost gentle, “even Alex won’t be able to look at you without flinching.” The girls holding me shifted; their faces were filled with excitement. One of them bit her lip. The other’s eyes darted nervously between Miranda and me, but neither of them loosened their grip. My heart slammed against my ribs. The world narrowed to the silver edge of that knife. I could smell the faint tang of metal and the smell of the perfume. “Miranda, don’t,” I said, the words tumbling out like stones. “This is a felony. You’ll go to prison. Think about your father. Think about—”

Lack of variety. And yet now, the way she looked at him. Soft. Vulnerable. No walls left standing. He released a long breath and sat down beside her. He said gently, “I’m not going anywhere." And somewhere between the duty and something he wouldn’t name… He stayed. Until exhaustion finally caught him too. Loud voices jolted him awake. He doesn’t have a hangover, so he recovered quickly, but his mind was still foggy from the events of the night before.

"I'll set it up." Now I just needed to think of something to say. How to prove your innocence? Being locked up. Loving the person who has me captive. How to figure out something that still didn't make sense to me. That may be the point. The story may not have made sense. It just had to be true. And the truth was complicated. Messy. Imperfect. Just like us.

I was driving too fast, pushing ninety on the backroads, weaving through traffic with a recklessness that would have gotten me pulled over if any cops were actually paying attention. I needed to get back. The image of Cici’s face. Pale, hollowed out, holding that ten-million-dollar bank details like it was a death warrant. It was burned into the back of my eyelids. He left you a payoff. The words tasted like bile. Dominic, the man who treated me like family, who sat at my father’s table and broke bread with us, had sold his daughter out. Or run away. I didn’t know which was worse. My phone buzzed in the cupholder, the screen lighting up the dark interior. Mom.