The Pit

Prologue - Judgement

A sea of faces stare down at me, all accusing, all glaring, judging. Women in heels and ironed skirts look down on me, faces filled with disgust, whispering to one another, quietly.

Men dressed in black dress pants and a colorful assortment of tops, sit quietly unable to utter a word, not knowing what to say, if anything.

Few children are scattered across the room, sitting next to their parents, looking around eyeing every little detail of the room having never been in a court room before and might never be in one again.

All of these people have sorrow and hate written across their faces, all the looks and rude whispers directed at me. I probably deserve all of their disgusted looks, but right now, their faces I can barely see.

All of these hatred seething glares and shouts, none of them bother me, except for the three families that creep in the corner of my eye, isolated from the crowd. Sadness prickling in the center of every eye, surrounded in a cloud of hate with tears running down their faces.

In the absolute corner of my eye is the Ross family, one family that I have broken.

A mother with swollen eyes, a blotched face, and tears streaming down her cheeks; she holds a small piece of fabric in between her two delicate hands.

This fabric is a baby blanket from years ago, torn with a number of small holes in it from usage or very unkind years. The outsides have frayed over time and the entire blanket threatens to fall apart. In the middle are numerous birds, flying and sitting all within the comfort of the center of that blanket. The white edges that surround the birds has dulled and is now a cream color from years of wear and tear.

A father with a snarl curved at his lips and an unforgiving hatred in his eyes, menacing hate radiates off of him with a passion.

Their twelve year old daughter clings onto him as if she couldn't stand on her own, her face is buried in the side of her father's sweater and a muffled cry is escaping the depths of that shirt. Her tiny hands have buried themselves in the fabric of that sweater, the fingers clawing at the material with all of their might, as if to help release her anger into her father's sweater.

To the right is the Topeka family, the second family I have shattered.

Soft woman's hands are wrapped in a creamy- white silk cloth, covering the woman's silent cries of agony. Her eyes are squeezed tight as if to make this entire day disappear into the depths of darkness.

The woman's tall, lanky husband is trying to be supportive and strong, but has unknown tears quietly dropping down his mocha colored cheeks. One hand rubs the mother's back is slow circles to comfort her in her misery, while the other is clenched into a tight fist. His lips are close to her ear moving slowly, whispering to her, no doubt saying this will all be over soon, though he knows it won't be.

The third and final family I have ruined is my own.

My mom who normally has soft blond hair gently swiping at her shoulder is now browning with grease. Her soft blue eyes are now surrounded in redness with dark circles hanging under her eyes from sleepless nights.

Next to her is my father, shoulders no longer proud, but sagging in shame. All of them are filled with unbearable emotion, I feel terrible for what I have done to them and am regretting it every day.

None of them matter to me though and the one person who does, has the worse look of them all.

Kyle looks at me straight in the eye, locks onto me with once warm turned cold eyes.

His blue eyes are piercing my heart, making me want to shout to him that I am sorry for all that I have done, but I stay quiet, unmovable, making sure no tears creep beyond my eyes because crying is something I refuse to do. Beyond that his face is absolutely expressionless, nothing is written on his face.

My eyes sweep down, no longer able to look at him and at his sides are hands, clenched into tight fists with whiteness sprouting from the knuckles. I know what he is thinking because I know my brother the best.

"What have you done," Kyle must think. "Your life is over now, ruined and you have put these people through unmeasurable pain. This is your fault, you are to blame. I am disappointed in you."

And he's right. I am to blame.