Glass Hearts [BL] Chapter 6: I’ve Got Blood On My Shirt

I turned my head back, trying to fight it, but another officer caught my arm and yanked around the other way.

I didn’t even realize we’d reached the car until I felt the car door press against my back.

The officer shoved my head gently down as he guided inside, like I was so criminal.

The seat was cold and hard. I sat down, my cuffed hands in my lap, and tried to turn around again, desperate for one last look at the ambulance.

As the doors closed behind Liam, I saw Dominic standing a few feet away from the crowd. His arms were crossed.

He was staring straight at .

And even though he said nothing, I could hear it all. You did this.

The door slamd shut beside , and the sound echoed through my skull.

In seconds, the driver-side door opened. An officer got in, adjusted his radio, then looked back at through the tal grate between us.

"You’ve got blood on your shirt," he said.

"It’s not mine," I whispered.

He didn’t respond..

As the vehicle pulled away from the mansion, I pressed my forehead against the window, watching the ambulance take a different route...sirens flaring, lights flickering, carrying Liam’s broken body through the night.

And I didn’t know what hurt worse..

The fact that no one believed ...

Or the fact that I was being dragged away like so criminal when all I wanted was to be ho..with my mom and sister.

But my mom was gone.

And now Liam might be too.

My wrists were already sore from the handcuffs.

My reflection stared back at from the window. My eyes were swollen, my hair a ss, my shirt torn. I looked like everything they said I was.

What if I had left the rooftop the mont I saw them?

What if I hadn’t opened my stupid mouth?

What if I hadn’t tried to help? If I’d just minded my damn business?

Was it my fault?

Was it ?

Was I the reason Liam was lying in the back of that ambulance?

Was I really a criminal?

No matter how hard I tried, I could never walk away from soone who needed help even if I didn’t like them. That’s just the kind of person I was... and now, it’s the reason I’m in trouble.

My chest tightened as the police car slowed down and pulled into a parking space outside the station. It was a big gray building. Cold and lifeless like it was built to swallow people whole.

The door opened.

"Let’s go," the officer said, grabbing my arm and pulling out...not gently.

I winced, my shoulder burning. I barely had ti to stand straight before I was being shoved through the doors of the station. Officers outside talking to each other, so holding coffee cups like it was just another night.

People stared. Even at this hour, people watched through the glass as I was led inside. A woman behind the desk started writing sothing down. A younger officer looked up from her screen, eyes narrowing.

"Got a kid from the Blackwell party," my arresting officer said. "Assault. Maybe worse."

"Victim’s is in critical condition," soone added from a hallway. "He’s bleeding badly."

Victim.

That word hit like a slap.

Liam was the victim.

And they thought I was the villain.

To them, I wasn’t Ash.

I wasn’t the kid who took care of his little sister.

I wasn’t the boy who worked late nights just to afford cough syrup and school supplies.

They brought to a bench. Sat down. I watched the blood dry on my shirt, the cuts on my knuckles from when I tried to grab the knife, the cut still across my shoulder. Evidence. That’s what they’d call it. I looked guilty...even to myself.

They took my bag. My phone. My ID.

And then a door opened, and a woman in a navy suit walked in, holding a clipboard and wearing a sharp look like she’d already decided I was guilty before I even opened my mouth.

"Ash Rivera?" she said.

I nodded slowly.

She knelt to my eye level. "You’re going to be processed tonight. Fingerprints. Mugshot. Maybe held overnight until we can get a statent. Do you have a parent or guardian we can call?"

My heart dropped. "My mom just passed."

Her face twitched. Just a second. Then...back to business. "Is there anyone else? Any adult?"

"No," I whispered. "Just . And my sister."

She didn’t respond. Just wrote sothing down on the clipboard.

A uniford officer ca back with gloves and a kit.

I was about to be fingerprinted.

That was it. No trial. No jury. No one to hear my side.