“Hey, are you okay?” Justin asked, half out of bed to go to her.
“Fuck yeah, I’m great,” she slurred, charging across the room to pounce on Justin before he could stand.
From close by, the alcohol haze hung like a cloud.
“How much have you had to drink?” Justin asked, as he looked over at the clock. It hadn’t been too long since she came up, so whatever her answer was, she had drunk it quickly.
“What does it matter?” Cassie asked, her lips finding Justin neck, eager to taste whatever piece of flesh she could find.
“It’s not a healthy way …” Justin paused as her head shot up, her eyes blazing.
“I’m fine. I’ve had a skinful, and now I want to fuck, are you in?” Cassie asked, her words straightforward and laced with fire.
Justin wanted to say no. He wanted to tell her to lie down with him and to let things drift away, but as she straddled him, her body moving to the same silent rhythm as his, he was whipped down a wild river of hormones and lust. Stopping suddenly became the last thing he wanted to do.
When it was all over, they lay in the bed, naked, their bodies tacky with sweat, and Cassie cried herself to sleep. Justin held her, enjoying the sensation of her body against his. He found a peace in her presence and drifted off to sleep more concerned about Cassie and the road she was heading down than he was about himself.
The days moved on apace, blurring into one another. With school ramping up and about to end, chores around the home, and the ongoing legal problems with his brother, Justin was happy to just make it to his bedroom in the evening. Declan was being tried for voluntary manslaughter, and his legal team had spent the afternoon briefing Justin on the changes of escaping a conviction and were trying to get Declan to plead guilty in exchange for a lighter sentence.
Declan looked like a broken figure sitting in the county jail. He was pale and dirty, his eyes tired and sunk deep into his face. Their mother had still not visited him, and Justin felt terrible that he was unable to do anything more to help his brother.
“If he doesn’t change his plea, there’s a chance they will push it up to second-degree murder. Then he is looking at twenty-five years.” Justin heard the words, but he didn’t really comprehend them. He understood what he was being told, but it just didn’t really sink in that this was his brother they were talking about.
“It wasn’t murder,” Justin said, his body trembling inside his jacket.
“Son, your father is dead. He was stabbed twenty-seven times. That’s murder. However, if Declan pleads guilty, they will charge him with voluntary manslaughter, and then he’s looking at fifteen years, so he could even be out in less than ten, depending on how the trial goes, and how well he behaves once he is inside.” The lawyer, whose name Justin had heard and forgotten just as quickly, sat with Justin in one of the private consultation rooms the county jail had to offer.
“What do you want me to do?” Justin asked.
“Talk to him. Get him to understand what is going on. He seems to be shutting down on us, and that’s not a good thing for this case, and it won’t be a good thing for him once he gets inside. That’s the important thing to understand here. I know it’s hard, but you need to face the fact that your brother is going to go to jail. The question is not about if, but about how long.” The words had a sobering effect on Justin, like a bucket of ice water thrown over a dozing soul. He sat up straight in the chair, the words echoing inside his head.
“Declan can’t go to prison.” It wasn’t a question, it was a statement, a simple fact which he would not allow to play out any differently.
“It’s too late for that argument. What’s done is done. We really are on damage control here. You need to speak to him.” The lawyer stood and placed a hand on Justin’s shoulder. “I am really sorry about this.”
He walked out of the room, leaving Justin alone with his thoughts. He only snapped out of it when his brother appeared in front of him, helped into his chair by two prison guards. Both men studied Justin for a moment before leaving the room.
The two brothers stared at each other, neither saying a word. Their eyes both told the same story, and neither was truly ready to face the reality of their situation.
“That lawyer said they want to charge you with murder,” Justin said, the words sounding alien to him.
“I know,” Declan answered, his voice cold and emotionless.
“They want you to plead guilty,” Justin added.
“I know.”
“Declan,” Justin began, but his brother raised his head, his sunken eyes were wet with tears.
“I get it, Jay, I really do. I killed the old man, and you know what, I’d do it again too. I just wish I had done it earlier.” The words had a bite to them, a truth that resonated deeper than the emotions that were consuming them both.
“Don’t say that,” Justin said, looking around nervously, expecting guards to come storming in.
“It’s the truth. You didn’t deserve a life like that, and I’m sorry it took me so long to stand up for you.” The remorse was genuine, and the pain and guilt built up through the years were finally being allowed to run free.
“Declan, I …” Justin couldn’t find the words.
“I’ll plead guilty. Don’t worry. Just promise me you will get out. Get away from this place.” Declan pleaded with his brother. “Don’t stay here for me. Get out and live your own life, brother.”
“I … I already left home. Mum won’t talk to me. She plays this grieving widow role; she is telling everybody bad things about you.” Justin didn’t know how much Declan knew, or how much he should be telling him, but he was the only real family he had left.
“That doesn’t matter. She’s just as broken as our old man was. I’m happy you are out.” Declan smiled. “Where are you staying? I’ve got some savings. I’ll give you my codes, you can take it all.”
“I’m staying with a girl from school. Cassie Martin.” Justin wasn’t sure if Declan would remember her. It had been two years since he left.
“She was the cute blonde in your year, right?” Declan answered almost immediately.
“That’s the one.” Justin smiled.
“Well done, brother.” Declan slapped the table and the pair laughed. It was uneasy, and forced, but for a moment everything felt as if it would be alright.
“She’s had her problems too. Her dad beats her mother, but she escaped and now we both live with her grandparents.” Justin found himself relaxing as if he and Declan were sitting in a pub, chatting about the week rather than sitting in a prison room.
“Poor girl. You look after her, Jay.” Declan’s voice got serious in an instant; there was something in his eyes that changed and altered the entire tone of his words.
“I will. She’s got her own problems she needs to face.” Justin thought about the drinking, which was becoming a nightly occurrence now. Cassie would stumble into his room, stinking of alcohol, some nights worse than others. They would fuck and she would cry herself to sleep while he held her.
Once he had tried to say no, to just hold her, but she insisted. She had gotten mad and screamed at him. That night, she wept as they fucked, and vomited in the toilet before passing out in bed. Justin remained by her side, holding her. In the morning, sober and with clear eyes, Cassie climbed onto him again, holding him until they had to get out of bed and prepare for the day.
“Take care of her; she sounds like she needs you. Get away from this place. Get away from me. I’m serious, Jay,” Declan interrupted Justin before he had a chance to voice is disagreement. “I know you, and I know you would be here every week to visit. I don’t want that. I want you to go and live your life, write me, visit now and then, but don’t get lost just because I’m here.”
Justin promised and hugged his brother, an act that was quickly broken up by the guards, who seemed angry at their parting embrace. The tears that traced down Justin’s cheeks and over his lips as his brother was pulled away tasted bitter and made Justin
’s skin crawl.
He didn’t say anything that afternoon, or during dinner, where he mostly played with his food.
That night, Cassie brought the alcohol with her, and they both drank to excess, as a way to silence the screams of reality.
Chapter Six
August 27th, 2017
The scream that rang out of the bathroom cut through the house like a howling winter wind. It brought people running as if expecting to stop some gruesome murder from taking place.
“There, there, I saw it in the window.” The girl stood in the middle of the bathroom, pointing at the large frosted-glass window.
“What did you see, honey?” Justin asked, crouching down to talk to his daughter.
“A spider, a huge one,” Chelsea, his ten-year-old daughter cried, appearing to border on the edge of full hysteria.
“Well, let me take a look.” Justin stood back up and grabbed a towel from the rack.
Moving across the bathroom, the warm tiles beneath his feet, he watched the window sill. It was filled with various products and cosmetics, a hazard that came from living in a house with four women.
“I don’t see anything,” he said before correcting himself. “Wait, I see him.” Moving a bottle of shampoo, which happened to be the only thing on the ledge that was his, he saw the fat-bodied spider cowering in the corner.
He gently picked up the creature in a towel, opened the large part of the window, and dropped the arachnid onto the outer ledge.
“He was scared and probably just looking for a way out.” Justin dropped the towel and turned to look at his daughter.
Chelsea stood with her arms crossed, a pout on her lips and one eyebrow raised in an accusing arc above her cool green eyes; her mother’s eyes.
“You don’t think I’m ever going to use that towel again, do you?” Chelsea’s other eyebrow rose to join its counterpart.
“It’s fine. I’ll put it straight in the wash,” Justin said, making a show of opening the hamper and throwing the towel inside.
“Ugh,” Chelsea groaned, turning to leave the room. “You just don’t get it.”
She was right. After a wife and three daughters, Justin still didn’t get it.
“What was that all about?” Cassie asked as Justin returned downstairs.
“Spider,” Justin said, collapsing back down onto the sofa beside his wife.
“Well, that explains the scream,” Cassie said as she took a drink of wine from the glass.
“Did I miss anything?” Justin asked, settling under the blanket beside his wife.
“Nope, just a lot of talking. Oh, one woman got her tits out, but she was dead, so I guess it kind of cancels it out a little.” She took another drink and smiled at Justin.
“Yeah, I’d rather a breast not be cold,” he replied. “Unless they were yours.”
“Well, that got dark in a hurry,” Cassie said after half-choking on a sip of wine.
“You know what I mean,” Justin told her, repositioning his arm around her shoulders.
“Lucky for you, I do.” Cassie leaned over and kissed Justin full on the lips.
“Is there a little leftover for me?” he asked, looking at the wine bottle on the small table beside the sofa.
“Um, no this one is empty, but there is another one in the kitchen.” Cassie fluttered her eyes.
“Okay, I’ll go grab it.” Justin got up and walked through to the kitchen, grabbing the uncorked bottle of Merlot from the kitchen side.
He filled both glasses and settled back down to finish the movie.
As was often the case, Cassie fell asleep midway through, having had a busy day chasing after the kids and looking after the house, a task she insisted on taking care of herself, in spite of the fact that they had more than enough money to hire someone in.
Justin watched the movie, yet he found it difficult to concentrate on what he was watching. The movie was one he had seen before, but still, he found himself unable to follow the chain of events that built up to the fiery ending. As he went to refill his glass, Justin was shocked to find the bottle was already empty. He looked over at Cassie, her face just as cute now as it had been some twenty-five years earlier, he gave a sigh. It was the second night in a row she had drunk herself to sleep again. He understood why. It was the same reason why he was having trouble sleeping. It was that time of year. The anniversary of the worst, and yet, best things to ever happen to them both. It had been twenty-five years since Justin’s father had died; a quarter of a century since Cassie had fled her abusive home, over half their lives ago that they came together in her grandparent’s farmhouse.
Justin understood Cassie’s need to drink. Anything that dulled the senses to the lingering memories which were always aching and raw, no matter how many years had passed. Although his demons only rose for a short time every year, Cassie battled hers daily. It was the time of year that Justin felt most distant to his wife. He was always forced to confront everything that had happened. He had met Cassie, and as a result, his father had died. It was a complicated fact that he had avoided thinking about for many years, but after many therapy sessions, he uncovered the hidden fact behind everything.
He bore no grudges and held Cassie accountable for nothing, but he had been forced to confront the fact that his father’s death came because of an accident he had while driving Cassie home. Everything else that had happened to him was a direct result of that same moment.
He was thankful for it, a fact that he had struggled with. He knew he hated his father, but he had never wanted to admit he was truly glad that he was dead. His life had improved dramatically that day, with a single exception. He lost his best friend and brother.
On the sofa, Cassie gave a snort and rolled over, her empty wine glass falling from her hands onto the thick rug that covered the floor space between the two sofas. Justin stared at it for a while before reaching over to place it on the coffee table, where it stood beside the empty bottles.
Cassie drank, and that was something they had both learned to live with. She functioned fine, and only drank in the evenings, most days. Although, there were some when she just needed it more than others, and on those days, the evening was never enough.
As he sat back, considering just heading to bed, even though he knew he wouldn’t sleep, Justin grabbed the letter he had received a few days earlier.
It was from the Hammerhead Penitentiary, where his brother was being held. His release had been finalized. In two days, Declan Howland would be a free man for the first time in twenty-five years.
The concept terrified Justin. Not because he didn’t want his brother to be free, but because he was scared of how society would accept his him. Would Declan still have a chance to build a life, or would his father still have the final laugh from beyond the grave?
He had yet to tell Cassie the news, mainly because the question he would immediately follow it up with was if Declan could stay with them until he got back on his feet. He knew that Cassie would have no problem with it. She understood his past and the bond he had with his brother, but it was still something that would open up old wounds, for both of them.
Shutting off the television, Declan took Cassie into his arms and carried her up the stairs. Her body was as light and petite as ever, and despite having had three children, relatively close together, she worked hard to keep herself in shape.
Once in bed, Cassie’s gentle snores punctuated the silence, as Justin lay with his wife in his arms, his eyes slowly closing, as the temptation of sleep grew too much for him to bear.
Chapter Seven
Declan sat in his cell, the bed next to him empty. His cellmate, a man by the name of Ricard, had been moved out two days prior, leaving Declan alone with his thoughts. With his release confirmed, each day had become the same slow nightmare that had been the first six months of his sentence.
It was his last morning, and all of his belongings were bundled up and ready to go, his feet tapping a nervous beat on the floor.
A knock at the door stole his attention away from the wait. It was Winston, an older man who had taken Declan under his wing when he first arrived. Serving two life sentences for a double homicide he committed back in the late sixties, Winston found spirituality and dedicated his life Buddhism. He was a large, peaceful man, with a muscular and tattoo-covered exterior. Declan would miss him greatly
“I just wanted to pop by and say thank you,” Winston said, his voice soft and thoughtful. Each word was spoken with reason.
“Thank me?” Declan asked, never quite sure where their conversations would go. A life of incarceration had not stopped the old man from becoming wise, wiser he reasoned, than a great many people on the outside.
“Yes, thank you for letting me help you, and guide you. When you arrived, you were scared and angry, and I have seen that combination swallow people whole in here. But you kept your head down, and you did the right thing each time.” Winston smiled, his large teeth impeccably white.
“Not every time,” Declan said, looking down at the scars on his hands. He had been jumped in the cafeteria, almost a year after he had arrived. Two men started beating on him until something snapped inside of him. He wrapped a metal food tray around one man’s head and punched the other so many times his knuckles bled.
“We all make mistakes, Declan, and while your path is not mine, and mine is not yours, there are times when you must defend yourself. In here, the rules are different. They are slight, but they are different nonetheless. You did what you needed to do, and I know that once you are outside, you will do what you need to do there too.”
“Thank you.” Declan stood up and walked to the open door of his cell. He offered his hand to the older man, and they shook.
“Take care of yourself, brother, and don’t forget old Winston here when you are making headway in the real world. I know you won’t want to, but if you ever need to come back and talk things through, I ain’t never got a queue of people waiting for me on visiting day.” Winston smiled and walked away, the prison shadows seeming to consume him as he went.
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