4. Hellena

4

HELLENA

" O ra Clive!"

The gruff voice shouts, and bars clang out in the hall, jarring me from my sleep. I finally dozed off against the freezing wall of the cell about half an hour ago. The clock across the hall says it's 4 a.m.

Seems like a perfect time for the start of a migraine behind my eyes. I rarely get them, even from sleep deprivation. Intolerable amounts of stress? Ooh, that gets me every time.

Not to mention I haven't eaten since lunch yesterday. Meant to have a snack at the party, but…

"ORA CLIVE, GET BACK HERE!"

A shrill voice giggles, followed by stomping boots and the woman's voice yelling, "Fuck you, Delaney!"

It's pretty clear this isn't the first time they've met. More cursing and scuffling follows, right about when the red-faced officer who booked me comes storming up to my cell door and yanks it open.

"Yeah, yeah. Fuck me is right. Get your ass in here and sit down!" A female officer appears next, struggling with a small figure in ripped jeans. She shoves who I can only assume is Ora ahead of her. Another rough push, and she staggers into my cell. We're the only two in this one, the bars across from me blocking off where several rough-looking men lie sleeping off their drunken stupors.

"Shut up, Delaney. You love it when I come to visit. Get's your cock hard, doesn't it?" She presses back up against the bars, pushing her hands through so they can take off her handcuffs and fluttering her tongue at him.

Officer Delaney blushes even deeper, shaking his head and storming off, leaving the lady officer to deal with the cuffs. "You really know how to press his buttons," she mutters.

"I'll press your buttons too, if you want. I bet you look hot with all that blonde hair down, maybe a little rouge, some mascara? Do the carpets match the drapes, beautiful?" And the female officer stalks off, shaking her head and laughing to herself.

"I'll see you again in a week! Thanks, Hannah!" Ora flops down on the bench across from me, kicking her boots off and stretching. "Can't believe I went to high school with that girl. Still got an ass on her, though."

She's the tiniest little thing.

Slim, dressed like she was just at a biker bar. Tattered jeans, ripped T-shirt showing off her pretty impressive abs and well-muscled arms. In contrast, her tightly curled black hair is carefully styled, kind of all over the place, but clearly on purpose. The look suits her, framing dark skin and very big, brown eyes.

That are staring right at me, staring at her.

"Heya, Tits. Like what you see?"

A scoff slips out as I sit up straighter, crossing my arms, which does nothing but poke them out farther. Pulling my knees up to my chest helps as I self-consciously run a hand through my tangled ponytail. At least I had a hair tie with me.

"Sorry, that was rude. You have really nice tits, though."

I feel my left eyebrow tug upward, and I can't keep from smiling at her. May as well play along…

"What's a pretty little thing like you doing in a place like this?" I try my best Humphrey Bogart impression and fail miserably.

Her reaction is spot on, leaning forward with her eyes wide, her hands to her cheeks, "I say, I was gonna ask you the same question!" And before I can blink, she's sitting next to me, like we're at a middle school sleepover instead of a dirty jail cell. "Aw, you think I'm pretty? Thank you. I wish I had your big, sweet ass and chest, honestly. And your lips are absolutely EDIBLE."

"Ha… Thanks… Ora, right?" I'm usually way more uncomfortable with people in my space, but she's kind of adorable. Not that my laugh isn't a nervous one.

"Oh, you overheard me and Donut Dick talking? Yeah, Ora Clive."

"Hellena. Michaels."

"Hellena Michaels? Nah." Ora frames my face between her fingers like she's taking a snapshot. " HELL . That's more like it. It fits."

Hell, huh?

Something Tyler, er, Tell said last night echoes through the back of my head. "Hell never looked so appealing."

A flush fills my cheeks, and I shove any other thoughts of him away for later. Besides the fact that it brings back the sinking dread of my current situation, the last thing I need is to get all hot and bothered over a boy right now.

"So, whatcha in for, Hell? I'm making my weekly stop into the precinct. You know, just checking in."

An exaggerated grumble reaches us from the desk outside the cell, something about Ora, bar fights, and putting three men in the hospital, punctuated with "AGAIN". I'm starting to think Officer Delaney does secretly like her.

"College party for me. I, um, I'm not sure exactly what I'm being charged with yet," I skirt, shrugging slightly.

" Damn . Never would have pegged you for a frat groupie. Not that I wouldn't peg you." Ora snorts and flops down on the bench, laying her head in my lap. And I just let it happen.

"So. A bar fight ?" I ignore her obvious tease, and the frat comment. It's too complicated. And those frat boys and sorority sluts are the reason I'm in here in the first place. Pretty sure some of them pointed the finger at me for, well, everything.

I'm so screwed.

Not a single one of them did a damn thing to help me. Fucking Todd took off running before anyone could point him out as the president of Theta.

Ora misses my inner struggle, clearly still drunk and ready to share her story. "Yeah. People can't keep their mouths shut and mind their own business. Or keep their hands to themselves. So I had to defend myself."

"Someone assaulted you?"

"No. I couldn't keep my hands to myself and I was making out with this guy who apparently had a girlfriend. She called me a whore, but not him one for cheating! Double-standard bullshit. So I decked her. Then I decked him when he tried to grab me."

She giggles at the shock on my face. Not that I haven't ever been in a fight, but she acts like she's not five foot nothing and a hundred pounds.

"And the three guys in the hospital?" Now I'm genuinely interested.

"Some other asshole trying to "calm me down". Black eye, busted lip, split his cheek open, too. Whore boy I was making out with got a broken nose. The other one was the bouncer, tried to grope me when the other guy grabbed me. I broke both of his thumbs."

"Sounds like a hell of a party."

"Yours must have been too for you to get arrested. Was there booze ? Underage drinking ?" She mocks, faking a gasp.

"And… cocaine, weed, ketamine, Molly…" I say barely above a whisper.

"Oh damn . That's a step up from when I went to SHSU."

"You went to SHSU? How old are you?" I don't mean it to sound rude, but she doesn't notice.

"I only went for two semesters on and off. And I'm twenty-five. I know. I look fifteen. Fucking genes."

"You wear them well," I tease, plucking at a tear in her pants. The little goblin smirks, reaching up to tweak my boob. "Hey! OW!"

"You really don't look like the type. What were you up to? Pretty boy jock infatuation? Captain of the baseball team's your baby daddy?"

"A little more complicated than that."

"But there was a boy…"

"No." I hesitate way too long for the lie to be believable. Memories of Tell gripping my ass sends shivers running down my legs. "Ugh. Yes. You're spot on, but way off base. He wasn't one of the frat boys. Some older guy who was there checking on his cousin."

Ora stares at me blankly for a second.

"Okay. That. That makes him sound creepy," I admit.

"Super creepy." Ora nods.

"He's not."

"Sure."

"He's also not the reason I was there. But I don't really want to get into it with…" I nod toward the front desk.

Ora nods dramatically, making a zipping motion across her lips.

Ora shifts gears abruptly. "We should hang out."

"Aren't we hanging out right now?" I joke, feeling a lot lighter despite my predicament. Having someone to talk to, someone who feels like a friend, makes the hours fly by, and makes it feel less like a night in jail.

Until around five a.m., when a gritty and cracked voice interrupts us from the cell next to ours.

"Hey, will you two bitches keep it down?" A grizzled old dude in a dirty white shirt sits up, glaring through the bars. "Either make out and give us a show, or can it!"

Ora and I exchange glances right before we both yell, "Shut the fuck up!"

"Yeah, look over here again and I'll kick your teeth in, Larry Connor! Then I'll tell your old lady where you been all night!" Ora high-fives me as we double over laughing.

Larry Connor looks like we just spat in his cereal as he turns over.

And we keep talking, sharing stories as the morning progresses. They bring us some shitty fast food breakfast sandwiches around six, and it tastes way better than it should. Ora picks off her bacon and gives it to me, swearing the stuff makes her gag.

I think she saw how much I was enjoying mine and just wanted to share.

It's weird, this connection . It's like I can be completely… me. Like we've known each other forever. What are the odds I'd meet two people like this in one night?

Ora goes on about some bar she likes to hang out at and the hot guy whose dad owns it, talking like I have any clue who these people are, and there's a charm to it that I don't try to resist. She seems to know everyone in town, at least down by the bay, the docks, and the waterfront. I get an entire history lesson and the who's who of Sanctum in less than an hour.

Somewhere in the mix, I pick up on the fact that her dad, or maybe her grandfather, must be someone relatively important, at least in those circles, but I leave it alone. If anyone can respect someone having a shady family, it's me.

"Clive. You're up." Delaney sighs, interrupting our conversation. He unlocks the cell and waves half-heartedly. "Can you just…"

But she does exactly what he's hoping she won't do and hops up, hugging him and planting a little kiss on his cheek.

"Thanks, Roddy. You always give the best turndown service. One of these days, you're gonna have to let me give you a handy to pay you back!" Which has Delaney sucking a deep breath through his nose, doing his best impression of a tomato. Ora grins and turns back toward me. "Hell! Look me up on social. We're best friends now, so don't go fucking off and ghosting me, huh?"

"I will. I mean, I won't." And I mean it.

Exhaustion hits me like a wave, and all I can do is grin like an idiot as she skips off toward the stairs. Delaney just gives me a look that makes me wonder what the hell I just got myself into.

I doze off for a bit, losing time.

Sometime around nine, Myra shows up to bail me out with the money she had to go get from the lockbox I keep hidden in my room, AKA, all of my money. All my money, right down the toilet. That's what I get for taking a risk.

Todd had better come through on the rest.

The court appointed lawyer that I talked to at intake said since it's my first offense and there was no proof I had anything to do with the drugs, I'd probably get off pretty light. I kind of stopped listening after a point.

Doesn't feel like I'm getting off easy. I have a court date in a few weeks.

The worry only increases as I check out alone.

Myra had to get back to class and really only did this because she owed me a favor. That, and I'm sure she wants to make sure I get out so she can get paid for coordinating the dancers for the party.

Outside, the bright and breezy day mocks me, accenting just how sour my mouth tastes and how worn out and achy I feel. All I can think about is getting home, showered, and into bed.

Then I'll undoubtedly have a very uncomfortable conversation with Aunt Rachelle.

I didn't want to wake her up in the middle of the night, which means she'll be pissed, and double pissed because I get myself into a colossal disaster. She's not one to brow beat, but there's definitely an I-told-you-so in my future.

The dockside station puts me way too far to walk home, so I whip out my phone to call an Uber, and it's dead. Awesome.

Guess I'll be walking back to campus to get my car first.

A shiver along my neck sends goosebumps down my arms as I wait for the crosswalk to turn. Someone is watching me. It sounds paranoid, but as I take a couple of extra turns, I know for sure. Not just being watched. Being followed.

Campus is absolutely my best bet. My car, my territory.

I can either lose whoever is following me or head straight to security and ask for an escort to my car. Thank God the school started offering that last year.

Sadly, all it took for them to step up student security was a student getting assaulted.

I catch a glimpse of my pursuer a couple of times, just out of the corner of my eye. He's good. Keeps his distance. Clearly, they just want to see where I go or I'd be in trouble by now.

Frankly, I'm too tired to try and take a roundabout way to the school.

Which, it turns out, is full of people when I get there, some social, team building festival or fundraising carnival for the football team taking up the entire length of the field out in front of the administration building. Just have to cut through to the parking lot and I can get home.

I'm so ready for today to be over.

The creepy feeling eases as I cut behind a bounce house, through a line of hungry students waiting to get a hotdog, and duck under a couple of beach volleyball nets. Over the divider fence and I see my car.

And campus security waiting beside it.

With the… associate dean?

"Miss Michaels. I was debating whether or not to have your car towed, but it looks like my timing was perfect."

"Uh. Professor Carson… I don't understand."

"This should clear things up." He hands me an envelope and turns to walk away. "We don't tolerate illicit substances and criminal activity on this campus, Miss Michaels. Be thankful that the dean left this up to me to handle or you'd be facing a lot more than just expulsion. You are not to return to campus under any circumstances. Good day."

The cheering voices and shouts fade behind me.

Expulsion.

I can't feel my legs as the two security guards wave for me to get in my car in slow motion, clearly waiting to make sure I leave. The parking lot blurs by me, my body going on full autopilot.

The only thing I can hear is the pounding of my heart in my ears and a roaring, rushing sound. I want to pull over. I want to scream. I think I'm going to be sick. I blink, and I'm sitting in front of the house, trying to catch my breath.

Part of me wants to fall apart, sob, freak the ever-loving fuck out. But I don't have the energy to do it. I'm spent.

I'm reaching for the door knob when I realize the door is open and alarms go off in my head.

My feet carry me forward, needing to know if Aunt Rachelle is okay. I almost call out for her, but my throat is closed off with fear.

Relief and dread twine together as I see her, sitting on the couch, looking pale, but alive and intact. With a gun to her head and a yellowed, gap-toothed grin leering at me from behind her.

"There she is. We were about to put the kettle on for tea."