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I messed up (I)

Samael had always been a magnet for trouble. It wasn't as if he actively sought it out: he didn't wake up every morning thinking, "Today, I'll ruin everything". No, trouble simply seemed to find him, like a shadow, always lingering just out of sight until the moment it pounced.

Growing up, Samael had everything a boy could ask for: loving parents who doted on him, indulged his every whim, and made sure he never wanted for anything. Even as a teenager, he had more than his fair share of privileges. And now, as a young adult, he still knew that, if he wanted, he could just reach out and his parents would be there, ready to fix whatever mess he'd gotten himself into. But despite being raised with warmth and affection, it seemed like misfortune had chosen him as its favored companion.

There was always that shadow... dark, unpredictable, and persistent. It clung to him through his school years, guiding him into fights, petty thefts, broken windows, and whatever other reckless stuff crossed his path. Samael wasn't even sure how it kept happening. It was like one moment he was just standing there, minding his own business, and the next, he was in the middle of some chaotic mess.

And now? Now he was behind bars. He sat in the stark, cold holding cell, staring down at his handcuffed wrists, still not entirely sure how he'd ended up here. Was it stupidity? A need for adrenaline? Or had that persistent shadow simply caught up with him once more, dragging him back into the dark? Whatever the reason, he couldn't change the fact that he was sitting on a hard metal bench, surrounded by peeling paint and the stale smell of regret.

A police officer leaned over, eyes narrowing. "You want to make your phone call now?"