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My stomach feels hollow.

My body is freezing.

The fucking jail cell is cold so at least that part makes sense.

The doctor who came in said it was shock. Maybe that’s what happens when you kill a man. Or when you see someone you love screaming in pain.

A cell opens and closes and I barely lift my eyes at the eerie sound of finality.

I killed him.

In cold blood.

This isn’t a bar fight I can get out of.

Charges have been pressed and they booked me within hours.

Third-degree murder.

I told them everything. Every bit of what I had. There’s no way to get out of this.

I’m fucked.

I run my hand down my face and try to stop seeing him. Any time the sight of him dead on the floor flashes in my head, it’s followed by him on top of Allie. It’s like a sick joke my mind’s playing on me. Twisting and coiling the darkness inside of my head until it strikes me down over and over again.

“Allie,” I whisper under my breath and let my head fall. The door opens at the end of the row of cells and I repeat to myself, “It was to protect her.”

I’m already starting to question it. Just like the cops did. Asking me what I thought of him. If we’d had physical encounters before. How my anger management sessions were going. Whether I tried to pull him away or if I just went in to kill him.

I didn’t have to keep going, but I swear I couldn’t stop myself.

There were so many questions, I can’t even keep my own answers straight.

“Just let me know when you’re ready to leave.” I lift my eyes at the guard’s voice and see Uncle Rob standing outside of the bars.

They slide open and he walks through, looking like the ghost of the man I once knew. His hair’s silver and the heavy bags under his eyes are either from years of booze or weeks of no sleep.

“Dean,” he says my name and my eyes drop to his button-up trucking shirt down to his jeans, to his boots, to the cement floor of the cell. I can’t look him in the eyes.

The cell door shuts with a loud clink and I hear him walk over to the cold bench to sit beside me.

He doesn’t speak as he leans forward with his elbows on his knees.

“Your lawyer’s coming,” he tells me with a tone of comfort and safety, like a lawyer can get me out of this. I guess I should have asked for one before saying a word. But what’s the point?

“I did it,” I tell him in a tight voice and tilt my head to reach his eyes. “I killed him.” The last sentence comes out strong. I can at least own it. “He was trying to-”

Uncle Rob cuts me off, placing a hand on my shoulder and leaning in closer. “I know what happened. They gave me the report. But that doesn’t mean you don’t need a lawyer.”

His eyes are bloodshot and red-rimmed as he stares at me, begging me to hear him out.

“I don’t see the point. I told them what happened. They know he tried to rape her.” My voice goes tight. “I only did it to save her.”

“It’s Jack’s son. He’s friends with the judge. You need a lawyer.” His voice is hard but also panicked.

I huff out a breath of disbelief at my uncle’s words. “I already know that.”

“Listen to me for once in your fucking life, Dean,” my uncle shouts at me with exasperation. “He doesn’t want his name smeared.”

“Smeared?” I can’t believe what I’m hearing.

“You don’t know how they’ll spin it,” my uncle says sharply and that gets my attention.

“Spin it?”

“Jack said she set him up.”

“She what?” My vision spins.

“That she liked it that way and wanted to make you jealous.”

“You believe him?” I stand up abruptly, moving away from my uncle and looking at him with disgust.

“No!” he yells out and taps his foot nervously on the cement floor. “They’re going to try to spin it. They’re saying she wanted him, that she led him on and that you caught them in the act.”

“But she’s a witness, she can testify. Shit, a neighbor heard her screaming!” My voice bellows in the cell, ricocheting my anger off the hard, unforgiving walls.

“Well, there’s some damning evidence, Dean. You need to hear it. You need to be prepared for it.

“Hear what?”

“Your anger, your arrests. Pictures of the two of you and testimonies of her being more than friendly with some of your friends.” My heart slows with each word.

“None of that has anything to do with this.”

“Maybe not to you, but your opinion doesn’t matter. If they think she’s lying, her testimony doesn’t matter.”

“It’s the truth!”

“It doesn’t matter,” he says in a flat voice.

“She didn’t want him to rape her.”

“You have to prove it was rape.”

“Her word isn’t enough?” I spit back at him with even more contempt.

“Not when she’s made her intentions questionable. The DA has to decide-”

“Get out!” I seethe. “I don’t need you or your lawyer.” My voice comes out even and confident, and I have no fucking clue how. I’m trembling with anger and sickness.

“I’m not leaving you,” he tells me with a shaky voice. “You needed me back then, and I failed you. I won’t fail you now. If you don’t want me here, that’s fine. I’ll respect that, but I’m getting you a lawyer for the arraignment.”