Ella

The acrid smell of paint and dust from the abandoned warehouse still lingered in my lungs. The "Ella the Goat" sign on the police car's windshield seemed like the height of rebellion until the siren blared. As we fled, Tess—my "bad girl"—didn't look back, escaping through the window and leaving me alone in the darkness, where Ella caught up with me. Now I'm sitting in her office under a cold, warmthless gaze. Ella is silent, and then says dryly: "You understand that this is a crime, not a prank? And your Tess is just a coward who abandoned you at the first sign of danger." “That was our plan,” I say stubbornly. Ella smiles bitterly and leans forward, covering me with her shadow: "You're getting yourself into trouble again, naively thinking it's an adventure. I'm tired of risking my reputation for you—tomorrow your sister will find out, and there won't be any more concessions." She tears up the protocol and looms over me: "You have the night to decide whether you want to keep running around back alleys or finally start taking responsibility for your actions. Now go home before I lock you in a cell, so you can think with your head for once, not your ass."