Shattered

3: Fighting Inside Himself

Author's Note: This chapter is a bit short due to the extravagant homework I was given this week. I'll make up for it in the next chapter. Enjoy<3

Shattered - Chapter Three

Barty Sullivan, who had to be in his sixties, was looking at Bradley with angry tears in his eyes. He looked ready to strike, which made Bradley move his hand toward the door of his Ferrari.

"Look," he said, drawing attention away from his hand, "I have a lot of cases. I present the facts. A murderer's a mur-"

"You know damn well that Ted did not kill that woman," said Barty confidently. He was not shaking, his heart was not pounding. His face showed truth.

"The evidence was not in his-"

"You know he wasn't a murderer!" shouted Barty, his eyes soaking with tears. Bradley had never seen someone so emotional, and he definitely did not like it. "Don't deny it!"

"I couldn't just give up a case like that!" Bradley shouted back. "You must understand, there was nothing I could-"

Barty laughed. "Of course I understand," he grinned, showing his square teeth. "How devastating it would be for Bradley Worthington, world renowned lawyer, to lose one case. I bet the world would mourn for days."

"Look-"

"Meanwhile, this entire town has been mourning for the past eight months, knowing that you caused an innocent man to be sentenced to jail for the rest of his life!"

"I'm sorry, okay?" yelled Bradley, putting his hands up in the air. He was completely unsure how to handle the situation. It was in the past, and there was nothing he could do to change what happened.

"Sorry doesn't get me my brother back," said Barty, his faces inches away from Bradley's. He put his finger on the pocket of Bradley's suit. "Get the hell out of this town."

Bradley opened his car door and drove off before he even had time to buckle his seatbelt.

As the sun set in the horizon in front of him, so did the the comprehension that he had never felt more broken. How many others had suffered because of his protected reputation?

Trying to shake the insecurity from his head, he drove on, more determined than ever to see his family.

It was dark and starry as he entered North Carolina, yawning as he did so. The sign, noticeable for a moment in his headlights, had a red cardinal as the text welcomed him to his home state. It was weird being back in the state where he grew up. The place he used to call home. He almost felt unwelcome, like he had walked out on sweet Carolina along with his family.

He drove down the cracked asphalt roads, feeling out of place as Hondas and Toyotas zoomed past him. And even more so when the brick wall bearing the words "Jennings, Established in 1889" was in sight.

With a fluttering heart, he drove through the town, trying hard not to look at the buildings and shops he visited every day as a kid. The donut shop, the hardware store, the little diner where he would always go before school. The smell of the dozens of pear trees, were he to roll down his window, and the three story, green, beaten down apartment where he lived until he was eighteen. 

He slowly pulled into the parking lot, where the nicest car was an '86 Toyota Camry. He put the car in park, and sat there, fighting inside himself, wondering whether it was right of him to come.

It would be fine to turn around and drive all the way back. No one would ever have known, and he could continue on with his life, and forget it all happened.

Something overcame him, whether nerve or something deeper, he was unsure. He found himself walking up the rickety wooden stairs, up to the second level, and before he knew it, he was standing in front of the door, ready to knock. 

He reached his fist closer and closer, struggling to actually do it. Taking a deep breath, he knocked thrice on the door, and took a step back. He heard footsteps coming to open it, and he straightened his tie. He forced a natural looking smile on his face. The doorknob was turning.

It opened up wide, revealing a beautiful young woman, with dark auburn hair, put up in a messy bun. Her eyes were tired, and her clothes were nothing of style or quality.

The pupils of her hazel eyes grew larger, as she stared into the eyes of a brother she had not seen since she was fourteen years old.

And before he had a chance to greet her, Brooke Worthington slammed the door in his face.