The Eighth Chapter
Every day at three o'clock, Ty comes to the middle of our cell and sits on the floor. Usually, he lectures us. Today is different.
"For two years, you two will have to stay at the same house. Every two months, you are allowed to go out once. You're assigned house is my house. You ready to go home?" Ty asks us both.
"You put us on house arrest?!" I yell, fists ready. Valeria stands behind him, ready to catch his unconscious body.
"Yes. It's better than this place, I hope," he puts his hands behind his head slowly as he says it.
"Are we gonna get rid of you or not?" Tritt pounds on the cell.
"I guess," I wave Valeria off. She comes to my side.
"I wanted to sink my fists into something, though," Valeria whines.
"Not yet, but soon," I ruffle her hair.
"How dare you?" she deadpans.
"You're welcome. And no fighting this time. Your face never healed."
"What?!" She touches the bridge of her nose. She may be a killer, but she still cares about she looks.
"I'm kidding. You look fine," I laugh. Tritt comes in and shoots me with something. I yell out in pain. They do the same to Valeria, and she yells less girly than I did. That was the tracker, I bet. I wonder why Valeria got one?
"Val, that was your tracker. It shocks you if you leave the house when you're not supposed to. Same to you, Jame," Mayley wraps herself around Tritt's arm.
"Not yet. I said wait until we're off," Tritt chuckles into her hair. Blech.
"Give me your hands," Rachel takes over. This time, Valeria goes without a fight. So do I. Within minutes, we're in the cop car.
A couple more minutes, I'm in my bed, no cuffs, no officers, one girl. She's asleep in my arms. It didn't take long. It's funny. If I rub her head slowly, she falls asleep no matter what. I close my eyes and start to drift off.
I'm on a cliff. I have long, black hair again. Once again, I know I'm in a dream, because I am Valeria. A man holds a knife to my neck. It's me. Jame kisses my forehead, slits my neck slightly, and throws me off the cliff. I land with a thud, but I don't die. A pool of red begins to form around me. It tastes metallic. It's sticky.
Another man picks me up. It's Ty. He takes me through a door, and I'm in a room. He touches my forehead. The blood washes out of my hair. He starts to talk.
"This isn't real."