Chapter 38

3.2K 166 13
                                    




Don't forget to vote and comment!

(If you don't, you'll step on a lego)

Follow me to become a member of #TEAMBLOSSOMS!



The next day, I don't go to school. I send an e-mail to the student head of office with some vague excuse on a family matter. Which is ironic, because I don't have a family. I just hope they don't catch onto that.

Astrix preps me up in my apartment, making me recite my case over and over again. It's no use. I know that when I walk into that court -room, my mind in all its frenzy will crash. And what will I do then?

Astrix refills my bottle of Fiji water and I silently thank her. Where would I be without my friend? The type of person who skips school to calm me down, holds my hand in the darkest moments of my life and fan -girls over every one of my relationships?

I lightly touch Astrix's shoulder and smile. "Thank you," I whisper.

She leans back a little and tilts her head. "Hey, don't worry about it. You'd do the same for me."

I have to admit she's right. We have each other's backs, and that's not going to change anytime soon.

We sit there in silence for a long while. I close my eyes.

I reflect over everything that's happened. Every little thing that has led up to this moment. My mind goes over every memory from the past eleven years.

First going to the orphanage, spreading out my bed covers over the hard, wooden floors. Getting teased by the other orphans and watching them all leave the big house, one by one. Getting left behind as the years score by and by.

Leaving on the brink of my tenth birthday, taking a plane to New York to meet with my new foster family and realizing that they bailed and I'm left alone.

Sleeping on park benches, getting the orphanage to enroll me in Glen Wood High, and finally meeting Astrix.

Getting Noah to help fake my ID and lie about my age. Living in the home support system, living off food stamps, befriending and growing up with both Astrix and Noah, getting a crush on my friend's broody cousin.

Renting an apartment, after three whole years, coasting by high school and thinking I can actually make this work. Telling myself that this is my reality. That it can all go back to normal. That I can be normal.

Meeting Jack at school, having my past strip itself before me, prey on my dreams and scare the living daylights out of me. Force me to face who I am, who people have made me.

To face, essentially, my life.

An hour goes by.

My eyes snap open and I let out a gasp. When I look around, I am no longer in my house, sitting on my couch with a bottle of Fiji water and Astrix right next to me.

Instead, when I open my eyes, I don't see Astrix at all. In front of me are bright beams of light and a panel of judges. There's a pedestal and then a face that frequently makes an appearance in my worst nightmares.

A face framed with ebony black hair, pit-like eyes and a gaping hole for a mouth, chapped lips and stretchy skin. A skinny woman with high cheekbones and a severe profile.

Delilah.

I stumble backwards and Jack slips an arm across my waist. He helps me up and whispers encouragement into my ears.

I wasn't aware he was here....I didn't even know I had left my apartment. I was so out of it...

"You can do it."

He nods at me, and for once in his life I realize he's not chewing on spearmint gum.

He's staring at me intensely, and in his gaze I find power.

I squeeze his hand and let his grip falter, standing up and walking in front of the judge.

"Relay your perspective on why this woman shouldn't be given a parole."

I take a deep breath and look back at Jack. He slowly nods. That one nod says so much more than anything he could have verbally said.

I look Delilah in the eyes and then shift my gaze over to the judge. She looks almost bored to be there, like prosecuting and releasing criminals are things she does on a daily basis. I have to remind myself that they probably are.

The judge holds onto a gavel and stares down at me impatiently. She wants me to give her a perspective? I can do that.

With a surprisingly steady voice, I tell them everything. I tell them about what Delilah has done to me, the emotional and physical damage. I go over in great detail how I stood in the doorway to my kitchen and watched her scream at my loving father, grab a kitchen knife and do it.

I tell them how the rest of my life from that point on has been like. Pretending everything was okay, and pretending to be normal.

"We're all messed up in some way, I know that. But in my case? Delilah messed me up."

I conclude my case. My eyes are dry and I am not going to cry. My insides are cold, like a rock dropped deep into my gut. Like the wind got knocked out of me. I'm exhausted.

The judge doesn't say anything. She looks away and shuffles a garb of papers on her desk, then she turns to her panel.

"It's time for the vote. The main deciding factor."

She closes a curtain, and Delilah disappears from view. All I hear are hushed whispers and a few raised voices.

We could have stood waiting there for a minute or a day. Time was a non-existent for me in that moment. Jack stares with a clenched jaw at the floor and I know what he's thinking.

One of those people on the panel of judges is his Dad. This entire thing is biased, and we can't do anything about it.

Finally, the curtain snaps open and the judge reveals herself. She walks up to the podium and removes a tag from Delilah's shirt.

"The jury has spoken. We believe you have served your time and are willing to let you go on closer surveillance overseen by our own Aaron Travels."

I feel sick.

Jack's father steps out from the crowd and stands next to his step-sister. The step-sister no one knows about.

I'm about to erupt.

I meet Mr. Travel's gaze and his eyes slide over to look at his son. They turn cold and I suddenly fear for Jack. His presence must have angered his father, but he did it anyway.

I look pleadingly to Jack, and his expression is crushed. The room starts to spin. I'm going to throw up.

I race out the back door, through the crowd of on-lookers, not stopping to apologize before bolting down the parking lot.


I race out the back door, through the crowd of on-lookers, not stopping to apologize before bolting down the parking lot

Oops! This image does not follow our content guidelines. To continue publishing, please remove it or upload a different image.
Sorry Not SorryWhere stories live. Discover now