To Hell and Back for You

Chapter 26: A Hero

"Hello, Devin."

Looking up from where I'd been sitting on the hanging cot in my cell, I saw the young girl from the restaurant standing directly in front of me, her short black skirt swaying from side to side and arms crossed beneath her breasts. Rage broke through the numbness at the sight of the insolent ghost, "What the fuck do you want?"

"Same as you," she stated calmly.

"I really doubt that," I scoffed, "You were the one giving Mark a way to die in the first place. Why would you care about getting him back?"

She hesitated, "I meant taking your frustrations out on his murderer."

I bore my eyes into hers and grinned, "I already did that."

"Maybe for a moment. But was it really satisfying after what he did to you, though?" she shot back playfully.

"Look, you little cunt," I stood up and stared maliciously down at her, "If there is anyone I want to take my frustrations out on right now, it's you. You're the one that started all this mess. Mark would be alive right now if it weren't for you."

"Would he?" she retorted.

"The fuck is that supposed to mean?" I snapped.

"Think about it," she lifted her hands palm up in a thoughtful gesture, "If we hadn't shown up, he would have never had the extra push he needed to get out of that suicidal pit he was living in." She paused to let me consider her words before continuing, "Furthermore, he wouldn't have been in the ward at the same time as you; you would have never met."

"You're wrong," I growled, "Mark is strong. He didn't need your bullshit. He would have gotten better either way. If him being alive and happy meant I never met him, then I would be fine with that. But you," I made sure to relay as much disgust as possible when referring to her, "Had to be selfish and petty. Not only did you get him killed, but you got four more kids killed! Don't you feel any remorse at all?"

Emma hardened her stance and glared, "That bastard deserves to be in eternal agony for what he's done! How the Hell can you be okay with just letting him live carefree in another world knowing he killed the man you loved?"

Yelling, I reached out in an attempt to grab the girl's throat, only to stumble forward and hit my head on the iron bars when she disappeared into the air. I spun around, but she was gone. "GOD FUCKING DAMMIT!" I cursed, kicking the mattress behind me, sending the cheap metal slat clanking against the wall from which it hung.

"Hey! Knock it off in there!" a guard immediately showed at the entrance of the cell.

After regaining myself, I turned toward him. When I was close enough to reach my hand through the bars, however, I instead retreated my hand and yanked my own hair. Desperately trying to control myself, I pulled until wafts broke loose as I bent at the waist and backed into a corner. As my spine thudded against the wall, I let my body slide down so that I was curled up on the floor, face hidden in my knees.

The intervals of screaming then sobbing seemed to last forever. I remember one day, us inmates were given ramen and bologna. Silly though it may have been, it reminded me of that first day living with Mark. Out of nowhere, I started crying. The man next to me was not amused.

"Save it for the jury," he complained, instantly sending me into a fit that ended with him lying in the medical wing while I laid in isolation. If it weren't for my rabid mood swings, I would have probably been out sooner.

As it was, my court date was postponed twice so that the psychiatrist could properly treat my disorder, which allowed several weeks to pass. By the time the day finally came, I was on such high doses of antidepressants and mood stabilizers that the guards basically had to force me out of bed each morning because I was little more than a zombie. Some of them were nicer than others, yet even when they became aggressive, I never raised a hand.