Ella

When the police come, I’m the one who guides them to the body. I don’t want Cage to talk too much because I worry he might incriminate himself. So I ask them to give me a notepad and a pen so I can write the story down.

I tell them exactly what happened, from his father coming to our home to take me to the gun, the chase, and the crash. How Cage saved me and then ran after his father, who then fell to his death. No detail is left out because I believe that honesty will get us the furthest. They’ve already called someone to come pick up the body too.

Meanwhile, Cage is getting his wounds taken care of by the paramedics who arrived too. And it doesn’t take long for the reporters to arrive. Apparently, a neighbor saw what happened on the road and called the station. And now they’re here, too, as if this situation wasn’t hard enough already.

However, things take a turn for the worse the moment the police officer mentions he wants to take Cage in for questioning.

I write frantically.

What? Why? He’s innocent.

The police officer holds up his hand. “We don’t know that, ma’am. We still need to question him at the station. And he did try to attack the driver of the car, according to eye witnesses.”

He was trying to save me! I write as fast as I can, but it’s not fast enough for me.

“That may be the case, ma’am, but we’ve gotten multiple reports pertaining to this man.”

I frown and pen down more. What reports?

“We can’t discuss that, ma’am. All I can tell you is that he’ll need to come with us. Thank you for sharing all the information. We’ll probably need more later, though, so expect a phone call of some sorts.”

He turns around and goes toward his fellow cop who’s talking with Cage.

I watch them force him to get up and walk with them to their car.

Wait! I sign, but no one here can understand me.

“Ella?” Cage mutters, his voice breaking, despair in his eyes.

No, they can’t lock him up.

Not again.

Please, not again.

He can’t deal with that. He’s been through enough.

You can’t lock him up, I write, and I quickly run to the police officer and hold it up to his face.

“Ma’am, please get out of our way. Let the paramedics take care of you,” he says, pointing at the man waiting behind us with the ambulance.

“What’s happening?” Cage asks.

“Get in,” the officer commands, opening the car door.

No, he’s been stuck in a cage all his life. Don’t do this to him, I frantically write.

But it’s no use. They’ve already shoved him into the car.

“Ella …” he mumbles, placing his hand on the window.

“Cage …” I place my hand on top, tears welling up in my eyes. But I don’t want him to see my pain; I don’t want him to worry too, so I swallow them down. “It’ll be okay. It’s just for routine questioning. Nothing more. I’ll get you a lawyer.”

The officers talk amongst themselves, but I know they’re whispering about me and the fact I’m suddenly able to talk. They don’t understand. They don’t know us.

“You told me they wouldn’t …” Cage says, but I can barely hear him through the closed window.

“I know. I’m sorry, Cage. They just need to know what happened. Stay strong, okay? Do it for me?”

The engine is turned on, and I tremble as I realize what’s going to happen.

“Cage, I’ll be with you soon. Just wait for me. Do what they ask. Please,” I plead.

He nods right before they take off, leaving me behind.

All I see is Cage’s troubled face staring at me through the rear window as they drive off.

I failed him again.

* * *

The press that was kept at a distance by the cops immediately swarms toward me, screaming questions at my face that I didn’t want to answer. So I shut myself off and let the paramedic take care of me. He calls my family for me, and I wait anxiously for them to take me home.

Not long after, my mom and dad arrive, and she immediately rushes to my side. Because of all the press hanging around, they wait until we get back to my house before they question me.

However, the moment I step into my own house, I collapse on the floor and begin to cry.

I don’t know why I feel so broken, but I do.

“Cage … I’m sorry …” I mumble even though he can’t hear me.

I lie down and curl up into a ball, trying to console myself and work through everything that happened, wondering if I could’ve prevented them from taking him.

“Oh, honey … what happened?” Mom asks.

She helps me sit up, and I immediately bury my face in her shirt, crying my eyes out.

She caresses my back and wraps her arms around me, sitting down beside me on the floor. Dad, too, comes to hug me tight, and I tell them the entire story, just like I told the police.

“Oh, no … he came at you with a gun?” Mom says in shock.

I nod. “He’s dead, but the police took Cage, Mom. He didn’t do anything. He’s innocent.”

Mom sighs and asks, “Well, there must be something we can do?”

“I don’t know … they were so serious about wanting to question him; even though I told them everything, I don’t think they believed me. They must think we’re killers.”

“But they know what that man did!” she shouts.

“Yes, but that doesn’t mean we can just kill him,” I reply.

“But you didn’t.”

“No, but they don’t know that, and I have no proof. Just my story.” I sniff. “I feel like it’s hopeless.”

“What are they gonna do? Charge him with murder?”

I nod. “They might.”

We look at each other, and I bury my face in her chest again.

“Oh, I’m sorry, honey … just when you thought everything was going well. I hope that man who did this to you rots in hell.”

“Agreed,” Dad chimes in. “And I think you should fight this.”

“But what can I do?” I ask.

“You’re stronger than ever. You’ve been through so much, and this doesn’t even compare. You can face it and win. I’m sure of it,” he says, kissing my forehead. “I believe in you.”

“What if they charge him and take him to trial? What then?” I say. “I’m pregnant. They’ll try to make it seem like he’s the bad guy.”

“Then you’ll prove them wrong,” Dad says, nodding.

He’s so sure of himself. I wish I was that levelheaded.

But all I feel is heartache for Cage as he sits there in that tiny cell.

“Oh, Cage …” I mumble, hugging my parents tight.

Their presence is the only comfort I have right now, but I don’t feel like I deserve it.

Cage deserves it … but he has none.

No one except me.

And I can’t be there for him.

* * *

It doesn’t take them long to charge him officially. But it still shocks me … because they aren’t just bringing charging him with murder.

They want him in jail for making me pregnant too.

I can’t believe they’re actually trying to do this.

I’m going to talk to Cage right now. I know he has a lawyer, but he needs me too.

When I get to the police station, I slam my notebook on the counter and write some words.

I’m Ella Rosenberg. Let me see Cage. Now.

“I’m sorry, ma’am. I—”

I slam my hand down on the counter and write more.

How dare you keep him in there. He’s innocent. Now let me see him.

“Okay, ma’am, let me speak to my supervisor, please,” the woman says as she holds up her hand, then walks away.

Not soon after, another police officer comes up to the counter. Sighing, he says, “All right. You can visit him for five minutes.” He walks to the front and commands, “Come with me.”

I follow him down the corridor and into a room, where I sit down on a chair in front of a table. Shortly after, Cage comes in, his hands cuffed. He sits down on the chair in front of me.

“Cage,” I mumble, tearing up.

My voice makes him lean forward as far as he can.

I reach for his hand. “I’m here.”

“Ella …” he mumbles, holding my hand so tight it hurts. He brings it to his face and kisses it multiple times, almost making me cry.

“I’m sorry. I’m so sorry they put you through this. You’re innocent. I tried to tell them, but they wouldn’t listen to me.”

“You can talk?” the man behind me asks.

I frown at him, giving him the meanest look I can muster.

“Selective mutism,” Cage fills in for me.

“Ah …” the police officer mumbles. “Whatever. Do your thing. Five minutes, that’s it.”

I wait until the man is gone before talking to Cage again.

“Please tell me you’re okay. Are they treating you well?” I ask.

“Well … I have food and water. And a bed.”

His description reminds me too much of the cells we were in, and it makes me shiver.

“Hold on, okay? I’m going to get you out of here,” I say. “The lawyer you have is a good one. He’ll help us.”

“How?” His pleading voice cuts into my soul.

“I don’t know yet, but we will. We have our story and facts. We’ll figure it out somehow,” I say, smiling softly even though it’s fake. I want him to know I’m okay, and he doesn’t have to worry about me.

“What about the baby?” he asks.

“Still alive and well.” I place a hand on my belly and bite my lip, seeing him stare at it, probably wishing he could touch me too. I wish I could do something now, but I don’t know what to do except wait until they decide what to do to him.

“What’s going to happen to me?” he asks.

“They … want to bring you to trial,” I reply.

“Trial?”

“Yes. To convict you. A jury will decide whether you’re guilty or not, but only after hearing all the facts.”

“But I’m not guilty,” he says.

“Exactly. But they’ll probably try to pin it on you anyway because this case is going to get a lot of media attention.”

“Media?”

“The reporters, remember?”

He nods, but I can tell from the look in his eyes he still doesn’t understand anything about what’s happening to him. I feel so sorry for him. He doesn’t even know what’s going on. How can they do this to him? To someone so scarred and broken? He doesn’t deserve this.

I lick my lips and say, “I’ll make sure they don’t get you, okay? I won’t let them convict you.”

He nods, and we entwine fingers. It’s all I can do right now. Just give him hope. Because I can’t go on knowing he’s in here, suffering without me. I need him to hope. For us. Because I’ve lost all mine, and it kills me.

But then the officer returns and says those two dreaded words that cut into my heart.

“Time’s up.”