The hours passed like weights on my chest.
No noise.No light except the flickering bulb above me.No one to talk to.
Just me.
Me and the clock.
It ticked louder than it should've.Each second a reminder that time was running out.
Six hours.Then five.Now… two.
Two hours before they'd drag me out of this cage and put me in front of a courtroom full of people who didn't know me.Didn't care.Didn't need proof.
The outcome was already decided. Garvey told me that.He didn't say it with malice. Just exhaustion.
I didn't blame him.
He had a family. A life.I was just another name on another file.
But still…
Plead guilty?
Those words tasted like rot in my mouth.
I hadn't done anything. I knew that. Every second that passed, I kept going over it in my head—again and again and again.
I saw her face.I saw them waiting.I felt the first punch. The second. The kick to my side that made the world go black.
I didn't fight back.
I didn't do anything except survive.
And now…
They wanted me to admit to something I never did.To sign my name under the word "GUILTY" just so they could feel better about their rich, polished lies.
I sat on the edge of the bed, elbows on my knees, hands hanging limp.
Would it really be that bad if I just did it?
Pled guilty. Took the deal. Served my time. Got out by thirty.
Maybe I could rebuild.Maybe I could move on.Maybe I could forget.
But even thinking that made me sick.
I'd walk into that courtroom and stand in front of them, and when the judge asked me how I pled, I'd have to say it. Out loud.
"I'm guilty."
Even though I wasn't.
Even though they were.
I buried my face in my hands and sat like that for a long time. Thinking.
No.Not thinking.Breaking.
Because the truth was…I was tired.
So, so tired.
The cell door clanked.
I didn't look up until I heard the voice.
"Adrian."
It was Garvey. Back again.
He stepped inside, shut the door behind him, and leaned against the wall like he already knew the answer. But he waited.
I looked up at him. My throat was dry, but the words came out anyway.
"I'll plead guilty."
He blinked. Slowly.
"Are you sure?" he asked. "This isn't something you walk back. Once you say it, once you sign it, that's it. The record follows you forever."
"I know," I said.
Garvey stepped forward, adjusting his glasses. "You understand what it means? Legally, morally. You'll be labeled as violent. As a threat. People will look at you like you're dangerous. Like you did this for no reason."
I nodded. "I've been looked at like that my whole life."
He didn't smile, but his voice softened. "This will reduce your sentence. I promise. We'll push for time served, cooperation, and age consideration. Best-case scenario, you serve under fifteen. Maybe even ten. You'll still have a future, Adrian."
I didn't respond right away.
Because in my head, I was still arguing with myself.
One side of me wanted to scream. To demand the truth be heard. To force the system to admit it was wrong.
But the other side… the part that had been beaten, locked up, ignored, silenced…That side just wanted it to be over.
And right now, that side was louder.
"I just want out," I muttered. "I want this to end."
Garvey nodded. "Then we'll move forward. I'll draft the plea agreement. You'll stand before the judge and state your plea. Just follow my lead. Be respectful. Clear. Say 'Guilty' when they ask. No explanations. Just yes or no."
He gathered his folder, flipping to a page near the front. "You'll need to sign before we head in. I'll bring it by with the bailiff in an hour."
He stood to leave, then paused again, looking at me like he wanted to say something human—something outside the script.
Instead, he just said, "You made the right call, Adrian."
I didn't nod.
Didn't answer.
Because maybe he was right.
Or maybe I had just buried the last part of me that still believed in justice.
He left. The door clicked shut.
And I sat there in silence.
Waiting for the lie to become law.