TO THE STARS

Chapter 31

Day 62

Whoever decided today a pancake day was a saint. I could faintly perceive the sweet smell of the chocolate syrup on me even after taking a shower. It was probably in my hair, I thought as I didn't bother washing it.

     As I sat in my bed, pulling one pair of scandals into my right leg, my mind drifted off.

I had woke up that morning with the "How To Know When You're Ready" book stuck to my cheek. I couldn't remember at what time I dozed off, though I could certainly recall reading the last line of the book over and over again before that.

"Congratulations! If you can clearly see all these qualities, then you're ready. Ready to face the world like a warrior going off to battle."

If I calculated well, ticking the appropriate boxes on the last page of the book, then I was indeed ready. Knowing that made my chest swell with happiness.

My iPod sat, glittering at the top of my reading table. I  hopped off the bed and grabbed it, plugged my earpiece in. I scrolled to the song that expressed my emotions the most and pressed play. Bach surrounded my senses as I waltzed around the room. I stopped to stare out the window, closing my eyes at the almost whitened sun.

     Today was going to be a good day...I could sense it. I took in a deep whiff of the clean morning air, pulled back from my sun bathing and began a search for the other pair of my sandals.

Seconds later, there was a knock at the door. The door clicked open before I could respond and in came Diamond. She smiled, seeing my frozen form.

"What are you doing?" She left out a soft cute snort.

I could barely hear her over the music blasting in my ears. I read her lips and wiggling my barefoot at her when my brain finally processed her words.

Her eyes looked somewhere behind me before she drew her eyes back to me. She shook her head slightly. "It's right behind you, silly." She rolled her eyes, laughing.

I twirled around, noticing  the brown lace up sandals just in plain sight. I pulled out my earpiece, laughing along with her.

Like I said...it was going to be a good day.

Meanwhile...

     The weather was surprisingly hotter today and it was barely pass nine. The sun was breathing down my entire back and the humid air made my hair stick to my skin. I could feel the sweat rolling down too. I brushed the hair off my face—I really needed a haircut—staring at the almost whitened sun.

Today wasn't going to be a good day...I could sense it.

     On the ride here, I had sat still with my ankles chained to the base of the car seat, staring out through the tinted window, thinking about her. Imagining what she possibly could be doing at that exact moment. I wondered if she could be thinking about me like I was of her...I doubted it though.

     I've had a lot of time to reflect on my actions while being locked up. The realisation of what I had done didn't get hit me one day. It took time. It took experiencing the hard life and listening in on stories of some of the inmates.

     I had drawn to two conclusion.

     First, I was a terrible person. I could blame what happened on the spur of the moment, but it didn't change the fact that I was a terrible person. Looking back, I still couldn't understand what happened that day. It was like a switch went off in my brain.

     The second conclusion was that I was going to make everything right. I didn't know how—especially after causing this much damage—but I was beyond willing to try.

"Hurry up, pretty boy. This isn't a parade." A prison guard—one of which, who escorted me —growled, pulling me away from my thoughts. He tugged on the chain of the handcuff around my wrist. His comment got the other two behind me snickering.

As a child, I always wondered what it felt like for criminals. I watched crime channels, followed investigations and trials. In my head, I would place myself as the prosecutor; just to see if I would make a good one someday.

     My favourite part of those crime shows where when the criminals were brought into the courtroom. I looked out for things like, if they had a look of remorse on their faces or if they had a wicked gleam in their eyes. I thought it was pretty cool how the lawyers fought so passionately—even for those that were clearly guilty—to defend a person's honour. It was why I always wanted to go into law. I just loved the thrill, energy and tension that floated across the courtroom and through my tv screen.

Going to an actual courtroom was on the top of my wish-list as a kid. I remember always bugging my mother about it. And so far I had been, but not for reasons worth bragging for.

"Don't make me repeat myself," the guard chided, still pulling on the restraint.

His tug was stronger this time, dragging me further away from the grey prison bus. My face met the flat, puzzled-like one of the asphalt before I knew what was happening.

     The guards lost it this time, belly-laughing like I was a cast from an old comedy movie. I lost it as well, huffing and puffing and willing myself to calm down before I did something irrational.

     Two guards were by my side, pulling me up while still coming down from the high of their laughter.

      The one in charge, looked up ahead and cleared his throat. "Let's move. We have wasted enough time," he said in a firm voice.

We entered the huge court building through the side door, like the last time and marched down the narrow hall. The cream coloured walls were adorned with framed pictures of people wearing court gowns and each one holding a gavel.

As we transposed to another hallways—wider this time and with people swarming around—I felt a hand at the back of my head pushing me face downwards.

"Keep it down." A voice whispered behind me.

As we marched towards the door I knew stood at the end of the hall, I could hear people mumbling.

"Is that the Anderson kid?"

"That's the one that was on the news, right?"

"It's always the decent looking ones."

     The courtroom was almost full of people, most of which I didn't know. My parent's sad faces was what I noticed when I first walked in. I took my seat, looking at my folded hands. Thankfully they removed the cuffs.

     I flexed my right wrist about, easing the tension and going over my plan in my head. I was letting her win, I firmly decided—she deserved that and more.

"All raise for the Honourable Judge Micheal." Someone from across the room ordered out. As we all rose, in walked the judge in charge of my case.

The dark skinned man sat down gracefully, his eyes prancing around the courtroom. "This court is now in session."