by Jessie Cooke
“I’m leaving,” he said, trying to sound non-threatening at this point and get out without a knife through the heart. It was too late, though––he saw it in the kid’s evil smile and empty eyes as he lunged at him. Jace tried to step backwards out of the way, but they were ready for him. He felt three or four guys behind him, holding him in place, while at the same time feeling the sting of the knife as it was pressed up against his neck. Warm trickles of blood began to run down his chest and soak into the front of his shirt. He knew he was sunk when he felt the kid thrust the knife in deeper and begin to pull it sideways, slicing Jace’s neck open as easily as if he was slicing a ham.
Jace closed his eyes to try to block out the pain and saw Rosie’s pretty face. God, please take care of her, he thought, or maybe it was a prayer. He hadn’t prayed much in his life, but if any time had called for a prayer, this would be it. As his neck split open wide, the pain became so intense that he couldn’t think about anything else if he wanted to. He couldn’t even scream. He felt himself being let go from behind and falling forward like a tree cut down in the forest. Pitiful, wet, guttural sounds came out of him just before his face hit the concrete. Mercy still hadn’t found him, however. He wanted to pass out, or die, and he couldn’t seem to do either. The next thing he felt was his blood-soaked t-shirt being lifted up from behind, and the sting of a thousand ants on his back. He could smell his own burning flesh but until they rolled him over and started on his chest and abdomen, he didn’t realize they were lighting cigarettes and holding them to his skin until they sunk in far enough to extinguish themselves…and then they’d do it all over again.
Jace felt his consciousness fading at last, gratefully. Everything in the path of his vision grew fuzzy and gray. The would-be murderer standing over him dripped blood onto his chest and Jace knew it was his own warm blood he was being bathed in. The faces above him were like snippets of old film now and just before he closed his eyes for the last time, it occurred to him that Rosie was the only person on earth that would care he was gone.
Jace woke up in agonizing pain and blinded by a bright, fluorescent light shining directly into his face. He could see shadows of people dancing around him, but he couldn’t bring them into focus. He heard all kinds of sounds…talking, yelling, crying, banging, beeping…none of it made any sense. He couldn’t remember where he was, or what happened. The last memory he had was seeing the Colonel lying in his hospital bed. He opened his mouth, but no sounds came out and the pain got even worse when he tried. His body burned, like it was on fire, and his limbs were quivering uncontrollably. A face suddenly appeared in his direct line of vision, blocking out the light from above. It was a middle-aged man with dark hair. He said something, but Jace couldn’t hear him for all the background noise. He tried to force a sound out of his throat and it came out as a strangled cry. The man looking at him said something else and suddenly he felt something stinging the entirety of his arm…and then seconds later the pain began to recede, and he happily closed his eyes once again and slipped back into the darkness of sweet oblivion.
“Is he going to have a scar?”
“Yes, ma’am. He can always have plastic surgery later on. I’ll set up some consults for him before he leaves, but that’s a ways off.”
Jace pulled open his eyes. The light sent a flash of searing pain through his head. Carly’s face was the first thing he saw and as soon as he did, he felt rage flood his system. He never cared much for her, but he didn’t understand why she was stirring up so much anger in him. Why was she asking if he would have a scar? “Oh, look! He’s awake.”
A man stepped close to where Jace lay then. He looked like a doctor, with a white coat on, glasses perched on the end of his nose, and a clipboard in his hands. He had dark hair and looked slightly familiar. “Mr. Bell, I’m Dr. Tyler. You’re in the hospital, in New Haven, Connecticut.” Jace suddenly remembered waking up to the man’s face once before. They must have given him something for pain that day…or this day? He had no concept of time at all. He tried to speak again but this time he understood as the doctor said, “You have a tube in your throat to help you breathe and a drain there as well. You won’t be able to talk until we take all of that out, but it will probably be a few days yet. I’ll have one of the nurses bring you a tablet that you’ll be able to use to communicate with us until then. You should be able to use your right hand to do that.” Jace flexed his hands. The right one was the only one that moved. What happened to the left one? Was I in an accident?
“If you understand me, can you blink your eyes once?” Jace blinked and the doctor said, “Good. Are you in any pain right now? Once for yes, twice for no.” Jace blinked once and the doctor said, “I’ll have the nurse get you something right away.” Jace moved his eyes to Carly and once again, that rage assaulted him. He blinked his eyes twice. “You don’t want pain medication?” Jace blinked them twice again and kept them trained on Carly. “Do you recognize this lady?” He blinked once. He could hear the beeping of the machine he was hooked up to increasing in speed and volume. The doctor looked at Carly then and said, “His pulse and blood pressure are both elevating. Is there some reason he’d be distressed to see you?”
“No,” she said, “of course not. I’m his aunt.” She pushed up next to the doctor and took Jace’s hand. He squeezed hers as much as he could, wishing it was her neck, and having no idea why. “You okay, Jace? I’m so sorry this happened to you. I wanted to put your mind at ease about Rosie, though; I took her back home…” Jace was suddenly blinded by the rage as the memories came flooding back in bits and pieces. Carly let Rosie leave with that punk, and if Jace hadn’t come home…no telling what would have happened to her. “Ouch, Jace, you’re crushing my hand…let go!” She looked at the doctor and said, “Can you make him let go?” The beeping was so loud that it was almost deafening. Someone else was in the room but Jace couldn’t see them. He heard Dr. Tyler tell whoever it was to give him a sedative and something for pain. “He’s really hurting me! I think he’s breaking my hand.” Jace felt the doctor’s hand on his wrist and then he felt another sting and burn as whatever the nurse put in his IV washed through his veins. He clutched Carly’s hand harder…and then again, his world faded to black.
13
Two Months Later
“I left you a razor with that suit,” Steve the attorney whispered in Jace’s ear. Jace had drawn a good public defender this time, at least. He didn’t seem like a rich lawyer. He was down to earth and had a kind heart. Jace actually thought he’d gone over and above, considering he’d already pled guilty. He didn’t think he needed a three-hundred-dollar suit to go to prison.
“Yep, I saw it,” he said. “Thanks.”
“You obviously didn’t use it.”
“Nope.” Jace’s beard had been growing for two months. It touched the front of his chest when he combed it out straight.
“Jace, if you don’t want to go to prison…”
“You think he’s going to send me to prison for having a beard?”
He sighed. “No, but I do think that a judge will look at you with that beard and see a guy who doesn’t have enough respect for the court to take the time to put out the effort to show up looking sharp and clean-shaven.”
“You think I’d look sharp without this beard? You think that puckered red bitch of a scar around my neck makes me look clean-cut?”
He sighed again, this time more heavily. “That scar is part of your defense, Jace.”
“I have no defense, remember? I pled guilty.”
“The judge is taking everything into consideration before deciding your punishment, though, and I think that scar will make more of an impact in real life than in the pictures I gave him.”
Jace shook his head and said, “That scar came after I busted into that house and cracked a few skulls. I doubt the judge is going to care what they did to defend themselves, especially with my record.”
“You haven’t been in trouble for a long time. You were
compelled to break into that house to get your disabled, minor sister…who by the way should be here. Why isn’t Rosie here?”
“I told them not to bring her. I don’t want her here. She doesn’t need to be involved in any of this mess.”
“You’re making my job hard, Jace.”
“Sorry. Whenever I get rich and famous someday, I’ll pay you for all this.” Jace chuckled and wondered if a guy could get “rich and famous” in prison.
After the incident, which was how he referred to that night, he spent over a month in the hospital. He had nerve damage to his left hand, his vocal cords were damaged, and part of his esophagus had to be replaced. In total, he had four surgeries, and about five different specialists constantly at his bedside. The cigarette burns were the mildest of his injuries, but they hurt like hell until they healed. He had to learn how to use his left hand all over again, like a fucking toddler, and he had to learn how to eat without choking, again, like a big, fucking baby. He had to learn how to talk so that people could understand what he was saying by listening to himself say words and looking at himself in the mirror as he said them. He hated that shit.
That entire time, a uniformed officer sat outside his door. Jace hadn’t even realized it until the physical therapist came to take him one day and as they rolled out his hospital room door he discovered he was on the jail ward. It was the regular medical center, but they had one entire ward where they treated inmates from both the county jail and surrounding prisons.
“Am I under arrest?” he’d asked the therapist that day. Of course, the therapist pretended that he didn’t know anything, but that afternoon Jace was visited by a detective who explained to him that he was indeed under arrest. Jace’s memory was still slightly fuzzy but the detective filled him in on the things he had forgotten. They were charging him with trespassing, breaking and entering since he kicked down the door, attempted murder since Little Ro and two of the other assholes almost died, and multiple counts of assault. The detective was kind and he let Jace tell him his side of the story…what he remembered. He had already spoken with Carly, which Jace wasn’t sure was a great idea. She hadn’t been back to the hospital since that first day when he’d nearly broken her hand, and he was happy about that. He didn’t like it when the detective told him that he’d also spoken to Rosie. He assured Jace her therapist was present, and one of the women who ran the care home as well as a female officer, when he spoke to her. Jace’s heart ached just thinking about it. She was probably scared, and more so since she hadn’t seen him. He ached to see her, but at the same time, he didn’t want her to see him the way he was. He wouldn’t give his attorney permission to talk to her, and he damned sure wasn’t having them bring her to court just for show. He was sure her progress was set back just from the whole mess of that night and his disappearing on her. He wasn’t going to do anything that might make it worse. He tried calling to talk to her on the phone several times, but Rosie hated the phone and refused to talk to him. He hoped at least hearing his voice helped. The nurses told him it did, but they had a tendency to say whatever seemed to make him feel better.
“All rise.” Jace stood and watched as the judge came into court. His attorney hadn’t wanted him to plead guilty, but the idea of showing off his garish wounds to a panel of strangers made him sick to his stomach. Besides, he just wanted it over with. He’d been in both county jail and prison and he’d found prison preferable to being locked up with drug offenders and petty thieves.
Once the bailiff did his spiel and told everyone to have a seat, the judge had Jace stand back up. “Mr. Bell, you’ve pled guilty to four counts of assault, three counts of attempted murder, one count of trespassing, and one count of breaking and entering.” The judge cited the penal code violations under the laws of the state of Connecticut and then said, “Is this all correct?”
“Yes, Your Honor.”
“I’ll tell you how I do this, Mr. Bell. I take a look first at your past criminal record.” Jace felt the knot he already had in his stomach tightening. “And then I take a look at the statement you gave to the police officers, the character statements your attorney has presented me with, and any victim impact statements I might have received before I make my decision. I’ve also looked at your medical records and the photographs of the injuries you sustained that evening. I have to tell you that had I simply based this on your past record, you’d be in prison for a very long time.
“But…in this case I’ve also taken into consideration that you’re the primary guardian for your special-needs sister, who was the minor in this case, who was given alcohol by an adult and taken from your residence without your permission. I took into consideration, as well, the fact that you had no weapons on you, and what happened when you got to that house was in the heat of the moment. Then there is the fact that your…so-called…victims seemed to have plenty of weapons, and much longer rap sheets than you. The ‘victims’ in this case are all currently either serving time or awaiting trial. They were each contacted and each offered the opportunity to make an impact statement and they declined. Detective Maxwell, who was the primary officer on this case, wrote a statement on your behalf. The care home where your sister lives also wrote a statement on your behalf. I’ve read them all, and Mr. Bell, I believe two things. One, that had they left your sister alone, you would have never hurt anyone that night, and two…you are in need of some serious anger management counseling to learn how to handle your issues without violence. Do you have anything to add Mr. Bell, or any questions for me?”
“No, Your Honor.”
“Very well then. Mr. Roberts?”
“No, Your Honor,” Steve said.
“I hereby sentence you to three years in state prison. That sentence will be suspended as long as you agree to my conditions.” The judge must have been able to read the confused look on Jace’s face so he asked again, “You have a question, Mr. Bell?”
“Yes, sir. I’m not quite sure what ‘suspended’ means.”
“It means that you won’t be spending any time behind bars, unless you violate any of the conditions I set forth.”
“And those conditions are, sir?”
The judge’s lips twitched and he said, “I was getting to that. For the next three years you’ll be on a special kind of probation. You’ll be subject to search and seizure at any time. You won’t be allowed to legally purchase or carry a weapon and the anger management classes are not optional, they’re mandatory. Your probation officer will receive reports of your attendance and if you miss any classes you’ll be required to present a doctor’s excuse. Oh, and one more thing, Mr. Bell, you’ll be required to pay for these classes as well and falling behind on your payments will also result in a violation. You will also be required to complete three hundred hours of community service, and one hundred and four hours of anger management classes––that’s two hours a week for a year. If you accept these conditions, you walk out of here a free man. If you would rather, you can serve your entire sentence without the possibility of early release. If you accept the suspended sentence and violate any of the terms, you will still be required to serve the full three years in prison. Do you need time to think about this, or consult with your attorney, Mr. Bell?” Jace could feel Steve tugging on his sleeve as he was saying:
“No, sir.”
“So you would like to make your choice at this time?”
“Yes, sir. I’d like the suspended sentence, thank you.” He heard Steve let out a sigh of relief. He’d been afraid Jace would choose prison. If not for Rosie, he would have.
An hour or so later after signing a pile of papers, he walked out into the sunlight, free, sort of. At lease he was unencumbered by handcuffs and shackles. As far as the “free” part went, he had no idea where to go or what to do. While he was in the hospital, he’d been evicted from his apartment. The super had been kind about it, and Jace understood that they needed to rent the space to someone who could pay for it. They had kindly put his things into storage,
but Jace would have to pay for it. One of the first things he needed to do was pull it all out and try selling it to pay for the two months he already owed. His last paycheck was still in his bank account so he had a few hundred dollars, but that was it…nowhere near enough to get a new place.
Jace wasn’t even planning on calling his old employer. He was sure they’d had to hire someone to replace him, and after they made special concessions for his prior felonies, he wasn’t going to ask them to overlook all the new ones. He did still have his car. Out of the goodness of his heart, Steve had stored it for him at a garage he kept down by the docks for parking his own car when he went out on his boat. As soon as the judge told Jace he was free to go, Steve had called one of his assistants and asked them to bring the car down. Jace was still standing out front waiting when the attorney came out of the courthouse.
“Hey, Steve.” His attorney stopped and looked in his direction.
“Hey, I thought they’d be here with your car by now. Sorry it’s taking so long.”
Jace smiled. “Please don’t apologize to me for anything. You’ve done so much more for me than you were obligated to do, and I never really thanked you for it. Hopefully you know that when I say I’ll pay you back someday, I really mean it. I know the court makes you take cases like mine for free. And I know I can sort of be an ass…sometimes.”
Steve chuckled. “I like you, Jace. But for the record, yes, you can be an ass sometimes.” Jace laughed and Steve went on, “I have good instincts about people and I think you’re a good guy at heart. You’ve had some shitty breaks in life and you deserve better than what you’ve gotten. So, I’ve enjoyed my time with you, and you probably won’t ever hear this from an attorney’s lips, ever again in your life, but I do get paid, plenty. So, maybe someday you can just pay it forward for someone who needs it.”