Chapter 7

　　The next couple of weeks were a blur. I was in and out of my prison cell more times than I could count—sometimes to meet the high-profile lawyer Theo had hired for me, and other times to meet Christine. Apparently, she hadn't forgotten me after all. I didn't even realize we'd become such good friends that she'd bother visiting me in prison.

　　Sometimes she brought food. Other times, gifts—to keep me distracted from the screaming voices in my head. Theo made sure to pay off enough guards to allow it. And for the first time in four years, I felt like someone was actually looking out for me. I felt... less alone.

　　Harold had tried to visit me too. Whether it was stubbornness or guilt, I didn't know. But I wasn't ready—couldn't stand to hear another apology or offer of help from him, not after everything. So, I never came out to meet him. Eventually, he gave up.

　　One of Christine's gifts was this iridescent fidget spinner. It shimmered with color when the light in the hallway hit it just right. I don't know why, but it comforted me. It calmed me. Ever since Theo's first visit, I hadn't tried to commit suicide again, and Christine's little distractions were helping to keep it that way.

　　But... though the voice in my head had quieted, it wasn't gone.

　　"Hey, Angel," her voice cooed, and I slowly lifted my face. My gaze met my reflection on the tiled wall—and there she was, smiling. That chilling, unnatural smile stretched across her face like a crack in glass.

　　"What are you doing here?" I hissed. "I thought you were gone. What the fuck are you still doing here?!"

　　I pushed myself up, pressing my back against the wall, every muscle tensed with fear.

　　"I never left, Angel. I'll never leave," she said calmly. "Because deep down, you still hate yourself—and everything around you. You still loathe this world and wish to burn it all down and build something new. Something in your own image."

　　Her smile vanished in an instant, replaced by something darker. Colder.

　　"I'm not you," I growled. "I'll never be you. You're evil. You're the reason Jennifer is dead!"

　　I gripped my head with both hands, pressing my palms against my temples, trying to block her out.

　　"No, no, no," she whispered. "That was all you. You're the one who chose to stay at that party. You're the one who turned a glass into a weapon. You're the one who drove it into her chest. You, Angel. Not me."

　　She smiled again, wider this time.

　　"But it's okay. You always wanted to get rid of that conniving, husband-stealing bitch. Didn't you?"

　　"No," I croaked, collapsing to my knees. Tears streamed down my face. "I didn't mean for her to die. I didn't want anyone to die…"

　　"Well," she said, her tone like broken glass, "too bad. You probably will take more lives than just Jennifer's. Because you're tired, Angel. You've had enough. And one day, all that rage is going to pour out of you, and it won't stop."

　　"Get out of my—"

　　Before I could finish, the sharp clang of a baton slammed against my prison bars.

　　My heart leapt, and I looked up sharply. A guard stood outside my cell, irritation carved into his face.

　　"Keep it down," he barked, rapping the bars two more times for emphasis. "You're disturbing the other inmates."

　　He walked off without waiting for a response.

　　I turned back to the wall. She was gone.

　　"I really hope Theo's treatment works," I muttered as I sat down, exhausted.

　　I buried my face in my hands and whispered, "I can't let myself become that person."

　　The day of my trial finally arrived.

　　It had been two weeks since the incident, and I was sick of it all—the darkness, the damp stench of sweat and blood, and the constant yelling of inmates with nothing better to do. I was so ready for it to be over.

　　As the officers escorted me into the courtroom, a wave of nerves hit me like a truck. I hadn't felt this anxious before—not even during the arrest. But now? With so many eyes watching? It was different.

　　The room was packed. Of course it was—it wasn't just a trial. It was a battle between two of the most powerful families in New York City. The press had their cameras ready, capturing every step I took. I even spotted a few familiar faces—supporters from when I charged Richard with domestic abuse. Were they here for me, or just for the spectacle?

　　Christine sat quietly in the far back, tucked into a corner so she wouldn't draw attention. She would eventually testify—hopefully in my favor.

　　Theo sat beside Harold. I caught both of their eyes but ignored the rest of the family—their blank-faced mother and emotionless, mannequin-like sisters. This was about me and them. Not anyone else.

　　This was supposed to be the most intense trial of the century—one that would be talked about for decades.

　　At least that's what I thought.

　　Until something weird as hell happened.

　　I looked over at Richard. Our eyes locked. Normally, this would be his moment to smirk, to mock, to remind me that I was going to rot in prison.

　　But this time, he looked... nervous. He looked disturbed.

　　Could it be… was he actually shaken by Jennifer's death?

　　Before I could ponder it, the judge's mallet slammed onto the bench, echoing through the courtroom.

　　"Order!" she declared. The murmuring died down instantly. "This court is now in session."

　　"The case before us today is State vs. Angela, charged with the murder of Jennifer Fredrick. Prosecution, please proceed with your opening statement."

　　"Thank you, Your Honour," the lawyer said, rising to his feet. His black suit gleamed like it had been waxed. His hair was slicked back like a river of oil. He looked like money—like the kind of man who won cases just by walking into a room.

　　"I hope this goes according to plan," I whispered to myself.

　　He cleared his throat.

　　"Ladies and gentlemen of the jury," he began, "the evidence I present today will show that Ms. Angel had absolutely no intent to murder Jennifer Fredrick on the night of the incident. Her actions were the result of a mental health disorder, exacerbated by prolonged trauma inflicted by her husband and even her own family."

　　My jaw dropped.

　　Murmurs erupted throughout the courtroom.

　　He was making the exact argument Theo and I had planned to use.

　　And Richard just sat there, watching.

　　I turned to Theo, and our eyes met. He held my gaze for a second... and then looked away.

　　I had no idea what the hell was going on.

　　But I was damn sure I was loving it.