How did the same ton of metal I’d once seen as a lifeline now seem like the weight that would drag me under? I swallowed against the burn rising in my throat as one of the cops lifted another bag and pointed at me. It was the rocker Hello Kitty makeup bag I’d left at Derek’s a few months ago. I’d brought over some toiletries to have on hand after he finally got an apartment.

My parents didn’t know that he had his own place now. But they knew almost nothing about me and hated what they could see. Perhaps they had been right to feel that way. Maybe I was reckless. And now, I was going to add moron on top of it. Because inside that makeup bag with the skulls I had thought were so cute were little baggies filled with pills.

“What did you do?” The words ripped out of me without my permission.

“I’m so sorry,” he whispered. “I needed money to get the apartment. We needed it, Angel.”

“Quiet,” one of the cops barked, moving closer to cut off any conversation.

That was for the best. Because no excuse I heard from the boy I loved would cut it. The boy who had always been my safe place. Who now was anything but.

“Get them loaded up. Separate cars. I don’t want them talking,” an older cop told the one standing between us.

The younger one bent, grabbed hold of my arm, and tugged me to my feet. “Come on.”

I went without argument or complaint. I didn’t say a word as he forced my head down and shoved me into the back of the squad car. I didn’t cry out when the metal of the cuffs bit into my skin, tearing at it. I stared straight ahead as we pulled away, and I didn’t once look back at the boy I loved with everything I had.

“Do you really think the cuffs need to stay on?” A man dressed in khakis and a button-down scowled at the officer standing next to my chair.

“Do you want to see photos of the stash we pulled from her and her boyfriend’s car? They could’ve kept the whole county high for weeks.”

“Uncuff her, McAdams,” the older man ordered.

The cop grumbled something under his breath but did as he was told. I felt blessed relief as the metal dropped away from my wrists. I brought my arms around, rubbing at the red marks.

The older man scowled as he took in the abraded skin. “You’re done here, McAdams.”

“Happy to be,” the officer spat as he left the interrogation room.

The man eased himself into a chair opposite me. He folded his hands, letting them rest on the table. The gold of his wedding band glinted against the dark brown of his skin. “Would you like some water?”

“No, thank you.”