:: 46 :: SAT, September 20, 2014

ALL Hell did break lose. That Wednesday, we went straight to the police. Michael was there, his hands tightly secured and cuffed. The metal rings around his wrists looked so alien on him. It's because they shouldn't be there in the first place.

The look on my Mom's face when she arrived was bewildered and disgusted for she had met Michael twice in the summer and he had behaved nothing but kindly towards her.

I think it was easy to say everyone was in complete utter shock. I didn't bother to ask around what was going on because only me and Michael knew the real story.

Or at least that's what I thought.

Calum's parents were there.

They weren't as shocked as Ashton and my Mom were. In fact, they apologized firsthand when they saw us enter the small white room.

On the police's desk, the same fat folder Calum showed me was under the officer's hand.

Michael looked uneasy as he glanced back and forth from the folder to his cuffed hands. I gritted my teeth, keeping my eyes on him until I would capture his attention. Alas, he avoided my gaze since he knew better. He knew the only thing he would find in my blue eyes was disappointment and pity; he had enough of both.

They talked in the room for two hours, escorting me and Calum outside to wait. Although I didn't want to leave Michael alone there, I didn't want to hear the implicit version of the story either. Neither did I want to see the tears roll down my Mom's cheek.

The only reason why I learned Calum's parents had known of the accident since day one was because Ashton called me on his phone and hid it under the table so me and Calum could hear every word they said.

Calum wasn't very surprised they knew. All the hints he found a couple of months ago eventually led to this conclusion. He was more disappointed in them than I was.

They became oddly kind towards my family because they owed us something. I didn't like that. No one did.

He kept apologizing, telling me if he knew sooner, he would have done something but that's the thing - I didn't want him to do anything about it.

It wasn't his parents' fault. They were just protecting the company and its reputation. As soon as the word gets out they let one of their drivers run over someone, they'd be best out of business by now. I didn't want that either.

I didn't want a lot of things and they include Michael going to jail, my family going to court against the Hood's, Luke's operation to fail, Luke dying and wars in the Middle East.

But of course, some things are ineluctable. And as much as it is hard to believe, I believe everything has a meaning and happens for a reason - no matter how destructive they are in the present.

I looked down on my lap, my hands tracing carvings on the church bench I was sitting on. My eyes caught a specific carving.

Jesus will be there for you.

It said.

I smirked sadly to myself and couldn't help but think of Michael, probably shivering in his cell. His hair matching his suit and his pale complexion most likely blending in to the faint walls.

Are his cell mates treating him easily?

Has he eaten? Is prison food as bad as people said they were?

Will he ever get out of that Hell hole?

Will he plead guilty?

Somehow, will the case be pulled back?

Has the news reached Luke yet?

Will his surgery at three am be successful?

Too many questions rang my ears, too little answers kissed my mouth.

Raising my head, the moon light coming from the stained glasses behind the altar shone upon my clasped hands on my lap.

For the first time in quite a long time, I knelt down on the kneeler, rested my elbows on the ledge and squeezed my eyes shut. I didn't really know what to say. I haven't been too fond of praying lately. Quite frankly, I forgot how it is to do so exactly.

So instead, I said whatever's on my mind. I felt selfish to ask for this much but it's very needed at the moment. I prayed to answer all of my questions. I prayed to not only get any answers, I prayed to receive my ideal answers.

But then I stopped asking for favors and saying 'please'. I started questioning about the things that has happened around me.

"I'm quite devoted to You but I just don't understand . . . Out of all people, why me? Why must I be the one to go through this? Why must it be Michael driving the truck? Why must it be my Dad to get the ball? Why must it be Luke on top of the funeral building that night of my Dad's service? Why must it be our paths to cross? Why must it be us to fall in love with each other, too deep to escape? Why must it be Luke to suffer and hang by a thread? Why must all of this happen to the people I love and not just me?"

"Jesus loves me. If this is so, You must have a reason for writing my story this way."

There was no reply.

❆

(A/N): Tweet me on @lukeanillusion and tweet about Treacherous :)

-Sofia the bestest xx