He stood still, unable to move, as an officer walked over to him, handcuffs in hand, to take him back to prison.
* * *
Aurora had let the words hit her and before she could stop herself, she let out a cry of relief. Beside her, her mother and Zoe turned in surprise, still clasping her hands. Her mother looked shocked, as if she had not been able to process the verdict yet. Zoe was smiling widely, eyes sparkling, and she hugged Aurora to her, murmuring words that Aurora could not her, could not process.
After the judge had read out his sentencing and left the courtroom, Troy was handcuffed and led through a back door. He did not look back, but Aurora did not care. She did not need to see the look on his face, she could imagine it just fine.
The gallery was full of noise now, whispers and hisses, a few cheers, gossiping. Aurora felt her eyes stinging with tears. Tears of relief, now that justice had finally been served.
Her mother wiped her own eyes with a tissue, not speaking, perhaps lost for words or overcome with the emotion.
Relief overwhelmed her. Troy would be going to prison. He would be locked up for thirty years. Though it seemed a small price to pay for taking another life, at least he would remain behind bars, locked up like the animal that he was.
Aurora wanted to scream, to break down in tears, to shriek with relief.
Shaniqua had finally gotten justice.
* * *
Zoe smiled at the look on Aurora’s face and hugged her close again, squeezing her friend and whispering in her ear. She was not even sure of half the things she was saying, though she had to say something. Congratulations? Condolences? It didn’t matter.
Troy was guilty. He would stay in prison for the foreseeable.
Zoe felt relieved, that he would not be out to terrorize her or anybody else. Now he was paying for what he had done.
Justice had been served, she thought, and she was grateful for that. No, more than grateful, she thought, as Aurora hugged her back, lost for words. She was happy.
* * *
Marlena watched Aurora and Zoe hug, murmuring to each other, unable to distinguish the words, but she knew they were both overjoyed.
She wondered at the verdict, the sentence, if thirty years was really all Troy would face in prison for taking her daughter’s life. He would be out some day, free to go about his life, and that was more than her daughter could.
It seemed small change for such a massive crime, but at least he was guilty, she thought. He would pay for his crimes, and for that at least she was grateful. She caught Patterson’s eye and smiled at her, and she smiled back, clearly relieved at the verdict too.
Marlena looked up at the ceiling, but she saw past that, gazing up to Shaniqua, feeling herself relax at last now that justice had been done for her daughter.
* * *
Clint read the text from Aurora and felt relief course through him.
Guilty. Troy would pay for what he had done, and Clint was happy for Marlena and Aurora, but also relieved that Troy would not get out to seek revenge. He was exactly where he belonged, and Clint was pleased at that.
He cradled his daughter to him. Angel was sleeping in his arms, her chest rising and falling softly, her dark skin contrasting with the white and pink one-piece she wore. Her tiny hands were clenched into fists, and Clint imagined that young as she was, even in her sleep, she was celebrating too.
Clint wondered about what Aurora would be thinking, if this would change anything between them.
Though he was pleased that Troy had been found guilty, he knew that things with Aurora could not go back to how they had been before. He knew that he was to blame, for not stepping in to stop Troy, for not saving Shaniqua.
Troy would serve thirty years for killing Shaniqua and the others, but Clint knew that his former best mate had got off easy. For all the lives he had destroyed, he deserved far more.
* * *
Keskia saw the smiles, the relief and celebration on people’s faces and she wanted to cry, though she could not blame anyone for feeling happy. She had looked at her son, seen the look of shock on his face, and she wanted to run to Troy and hug her youngest boy close to her, tell him that she loved him and that everything would be ok in the end.
She fought her tears, holding them back. In front of the Curtis family and all the witnesses, she did not want to cry. She could not mourn for her son, not when they had really lost somebody. Troy deserved the sentence, Keskia knew that much, but it still hurt her to see her son, her baby, in such a way.
Hoping not to draw attention to herself, she bit on her lower lip, blinking hard, willing herself not to cry as she bowed her head and slipped out of the court house.
* * *
Tyrese was waiting outside, and he did not need to ask what had happened, he could see the answer written all over his mother’s face. He put an arm around her and for once she did not shake him off now. He felt her shoulders shaking and knew she was trying not to cry as he led her down the street. He felt bad for her, and bad for his brother. He felt bad for himself too. He wondered if he was responsible for how his youngest brother had turned out.
Guilt rose through him, settling like a stone in the pit of his stomach, but he could not think about it right now. He gave a last glance back at the court house, hoping it would be for the last time.
It was just the two of them now, he thought, as his mother let out a strangled sob.
* * *
Aurora felt a spring in her step as she walked across the estate with her mother and Zoe. The bus ride had been joyous, a weight lifted from each of them, and it was only now that Aurora fully understood how much the injustice had been weighing on her.
“I think this calls for a bottle of wine,” Marlena said, rubbing her hands together with excitement. She caught the look Aurora gave her and rolled her eyes. “Don’t worry love, just the one bottle. It’s for a celebration after all.”
“Exactly,” Zoe chimed in. “You can’t have a toast without a glass of wine.”
“What are we toasting to?” Aurora asked, amused.
“Justice,” Marlena and Zoe said simultaneously, and they all laughed.
The laughter broke off quickly as Brandy walked towards them across the courtyard. She hesitated upon seeing them and her face paled at their expressions. Aurora wondered if she had been waiting for news about Troy’s fate, if she would be relieved or saddened.
She came to a halt a few feet from them.
“We’re just back from court,” Zoe told her.
“Good for you,” Brandy shrugged, as if she did not care, but her eyes gave her away.
“He pled guilty,” Zoe said. “Thirty years.”
Brandy tried to hide her shock but didn’t quite manage it. She shrugged again, went to turn and walk away, but hesitated, glancing back to Aurora and Marlena.
“Keep walking,” Zoe warned her.
Brandy gave a snort in her direction and turned on her heel, disappearing up a stairwell a few feet away. She did not look back.
“I can’t believe I was ever friends with her,” Zoe shook her head.
“Let’s just leave it, yeah?” Aurora said quietly. Marlena and Zoe looked at her, surprised. Aurora sighed. “Look, we all know she’s a right cow, but arguing with her and letting her get us riled up isn’t going to change anything. Troy got sent down. We got justice for Shaniqua and Sasha. It’s time we all moved on from all this anger now, don’t you think?”
Marlena smiled proudly, whilst Zoe nodded in agreement.
“Well said, love,” Marlena said. “But if you’re forgiving her and moving on, then don’t you think there’s someone a hell of a lot more worthy of forgiveness than that little bitch?”
Aurora looked from her mother to Zoe and let out a long breath. She knew her mother was right.
“You should go to him,” Zoe agreed. “Today of all days, you should see him at least.”
“You’re right,” Aurora said.
She looked down
at her phone, checking the time. She could get the next bus and be with him in under half an hour.
“You go to him. We’ll be fine, it just means more wine for me and this one,” Marlena said, gesturing to Zoe, who nodded her encouragement.
Aurora smiled, hugged them both and turned back around. She thought about Clint, about everything they had been through, and she knew that she had to see him, that he was perhaps the only person she wanted to see right now.
* * *
Brandy flung herself through the front door and almost knocked Aunt Bo down as she stormed down the landing to her bedroom.
“What the hell’s the matter with you?” Deanna cried out from the kitchen. “You almost gave me a bloody heart attack, tearing that door off its hinges like that.”
“Hush you,” Aunt Bo chastised her. She put an arm out to stop Brandy, and Brandy flinched, not wanting them to see her tears.
It was the shock, she told herself. She wasn’t crying for Troy, but for herself. Perhaps for them both, and what might have been. She wiped her eyes with the back of her hand, but it was no good.
“What’s wrong?” Aunt Bo asked, putting an arm around her.
Brandy started to cry, letting out a sob into her aunt’s armpit as she held her. She could not explain it, could not tell them, but they seemed to figure it out between them.
“You’re better off without him,” Deanna said from the landing behind them.
“Don’t you start,” Aunt Bo warned her.
“It’s true, isn’t it?” Deanna snapped.
“Well, yes, but -”
“God knows I never say it,” Deanna sighed. “But you deserve a lot more from this life than you’ve been given, Brandy. And with him gone, you might finally start to realise that.”
Brandy’s tears slowed, and she lifted her head to look at her mum.
“How much have you had to drink?” she asked.
“Not nearly enough for this time of day,” Deanna said, though she cracked a smile. Brandy started to laugh. She couldn’t help it. She cried and laughed, and the shocked look on Aunt Bo’s face made her laugh harder.
“You sure you haven’t had a sneaky tipple or two?” Deanna said, joining in the laughter.
Aunt Bo shook her head, though she smiled, perhaps at the calm, however crazy it might be, that had suddenly descended over the flat.
Brandy laughed until she couldn’t laugh any longer and the tears dried on her cheeks. Perhaps her mother was right for once, she thought. With Troy out of the picture, she could finally move on with her life.
* * *
Clint had just said goodbye to his mum and Angel a few minutes ago when the curtain was pulled open. He looked up, expecting a nurse come to check up on him, but he smiled uncertainly when he saw Aurora standing there.
“You okay?” Clint asked.
“Of course,” Aurora said, offering a smile. She closed the curtains and came to his bedside, taking his hand in hers.
“Aurora, I was just thinking about everything, because of today, and -”
He wanted to tell her how much he loved her, that he would do anything to win her back, but there were so many emotions, so many words that he wanted to use, that they caught in his throat.
Aurora put a finger to his lips, and her touch made him shiver with pleasure.
“Let’s not talk about that, not today, please Clint,” she said. She was not angry or upset, and Clint nodded in agreement with her. She smiled gratefully at him. “Let’s just be grateful for everything, for each other, for our daughter.”
Clint smiled and relaxed, with Aurora’s hands clasped in his, his heart fluttering with hope that perhaps there was a chance for them after all.
* * *
Shontelle watched her younger sister head off on her date and felt pleased that Scarlett felt confident in herself. Though she disapproved of Kojo, and knew he spelt trouble, she was relieved that her sister was starting to live a little.
It had been a long road; her little sister had been badly scarred by their mum’s death, but she seemed to be recovering, and Shontelle was relieved. She knew their dad had worried about his youngest daughter, that she was struggling to be more sociable and interact with people her own age, but Shontelle could now assure him that Scarlett was fine. She was just quiet, a bit shy, but nothing more. Shontelle was the opposite, she knew, the life of the party, flirty and loud, but she still felt close to her sister, and she knew nothing could come between them.
The flat was empty now, with Scarlett out on her date and their dad working nights driving his cab. Shontelle felt pleased to have the place to herself. It was rare, and she intended to make the most of it. She went into the kitchen and poured herself a glass of wine, adding a dash of lemonade to spritzer-it up, keeping an eye on her phone for messages from Amal. He was drinking with Tamar, toasting to the past and a farewell to Troy. Good riddance as far as she was concerned, Shontelle thought.
In her bedroom she plugged her iPod into her speakers and turned up the volume. She took a long drink of wine and was about to turn on her laptop when the door went. She hastily turned down the music, worried she had disturbed the neighbours.
At the front door, she hesitated. The neighbours had three sons, and she knew they were religious. She was in her leopard-print onesie, so she didn’t think she would lead them astray. She opened the door and looked out at Naz.
“What are you doing here?” she asked, surprised but relieved.
“You busy?” Naz asked. He swayed a little and put a hand against the door frame to steady himself. Shontelle wondered how much he’d had to drink.
“Not really,” she admitted. He looked at her, and she sighed, holding the door open for him. He gave her a smile and came into the flat.
“Your dad still on nights?” he asked over his shoulder. She nodded and followed Naz as he bypassed the lounge and went straight to her bedroom. Reluctantly, Shontelle went in after him, her mood souring as he sat heavily on her bed and looked across the room at her, cap low over his eyes as he propped himself up on her pillows.
“So,” he said. “You and Amal eh?”
Shontelle picked up her drink and gulped. She didn’t want to have this conversation, though she had been half-expecting him to ask her. She had thought he would just message her on Facebook, and not turn up at her flat.
“What about me and Amal?” she asked, trying to stay calm.
“You two got close,” Naz said, his voice hard.
Shontelle took a deep breath.
“Look, Naz, me and you, we broke up ages ago, and we weren’t even that serious, so –”
“So you thought you’d go and fuck my cousin?” Naz snapped.
Shontelle felt her discomfort rise, aware that they were alone in the flat.
“Naz, it’s more than that,” she said, looking at the bedroom floor. “We are serious, it’s not just a hook-up, I really like him and Amal really likes me. We didn’t mean to hurt you, but –”
“I still like you,” Naz interrupted. He sat up straighter, and Shontelle felt bad for him. Her fear turned to pity. “When you finished with me, I always kind of thought we’d get back together at some point.”
Shontelle sighed and sat down on the bed.
“Naz, you’re a nice guy, but –”
“But what?” Naz protested. He leaned closer to her, and Shontelle pulled away from him. Naz noticed, and his eyes hardened, his smile evaporating. “But you’d rather fuck Amal than fuck me?” His voice was angry. “I don’t have abs, and I don’t have a load of banter, right?”
Shontelle wanted to ask him to leave, but she didn’t want to hurt him. He reached for her, and she swerved his hand again. Naz slumped, defeated, and Shontelle felt uncertain. Why had he come around? She put a hand to his shoulder and squeezed. Naz reached for her, and this time she was too slow. He grabbed her hard and half-dragged her across the bed. One hand went over her mouth, whilst the other skittered down her stomach to between her legs.
<
br /> “How about we have another fuck?” he snarled. “See who you prefer?”
Panic rising, she struck out and her fist connected with his jaw. He momentarily lost his grip on her and she slid off the bed and rushed to the door. Naz was close behind her, the bed creaking, and she threw herself out into the corridor. She felt his hands reaching, his fingers at her back.
She turned into the kitchen, the doorframe biting into her fingers as she swung inside. Naz loomed in the doorway as she backed into the counter, her body shaking with fear now.
“In my family, we fucking share,” Naz said, leering at her.
Shontelle glanced around the kitchen. Her eyes fell on a knife she’d used to make sandwiches earlier. She snatched it up and held it in front of her, hands shaking less now she was armed.
Naz seemed less confident now, hesitating at the door.
“Put it down,” he said, forcing a smile. He took a tentative step forward. “We need to talk about this, Shontelle, don’t you think?”
Shontelle kept the knife on him.
“I think that if you take one fucking step closer to me, I’ll stick this through your ball-sack,” she said. Her voice was steady, and her face was stone cold. She meant it, and Naz must have realised that.
He backed out of the kitchen.
“Out the flat,” Shontelle demanded. “And don’t come back.”
Naz backed down the corridor, eyes on her and the knife. Shontelle followed him, keeping her distance, the knife in front of her. He fumbled with the door, and opened it, stepping outside.
“Please, Shontelle, I’m sorry,” he said. Tears appeared in his eyes. “I just miss you, I never meant to scare you. Please, don’t tell anyone about this. I’m really –”
“Fuck off,” Shontelle shouted, slamming the door shut in his face.
She dashed forward and bolted the door, breathing out with relief. She kept the knife tight in her fist but Naz made no attempt to force the door. Shaking, she returned to the kitchen and put the knife back on the counter. She hurried through to her bedroom, closing the door behind her, and grabbed her phone, dialling Amal.
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