Abby

CHAPTER FORTY-SEVEN

She sat across from her lawyer. They'd taken the handcuffs off, but she still felt them, saw the red marks on her wrists. She was wearing grey pants and a white short-sleeve shirt, just like everyone else. Her hair was a tangled mess. She shook from nerves. She shook from lack of eating. She shook from withdrawals. It was a stark contrast from how she looked when she was arrested at the funeral. Her parents were let in, and they sat on one side next to the lawyer. They weren't allowed to sit next to her. She didn't meet their eyes. She stared at her hands.

"Hi, Abby." Her mother said, needing to connect this ghost that sat in front of them to her daughter. Abby didn't say anything. The lawyer got right into it.

"They do not wish to offer a plea deal right now." She said of the prosecution. "That may change if the judge decides that you should be tried as a juvenile." Abby didn't acknowledge her. But she'd heard her. "Abby, I need you to show you understand me." Abby nodded. "Are you interested in a plea deal?" She asked.

"Of course she is." Her father said. "She has no other option."

"I understand your view on this," the lawyer began, "but I represent Abby. And she needs to be the one on board with everything we do."

"I'll do whatever he wants." She said, finally speaking. If only she'd taken that path nine months ago.

"Abby," the lawyer began again. "I need you to tell me what you want. I represent you. It is my duty to do what you wish to do."

"I don't want to go to jail." She finally spoke up. "It's bad enough here. I won't survive in jail." Her mother tried to keep it together. She was pretty lousy at it lately.

"Okay." The lawyer acknowledged. "Then we wait. See if you'll be staying here or moving to an adult facility. And then we go from there." She paused, not wanting to shovel too much on at once. "Abby, is there anyone you wish to share this guilt with? Any member of the group you committed these crimes with that you'd like to turn in for leniency?" Young females. They never wanted to turn anyone in. Their loyalty was bizarre. Abby shook her head no.

"Yes. That rat bastard boyfriend of hers. And the people that live at that drug house with her. She'll turn them all in." The lawyer waited for Abby to answer. She shook her head no. "Are you kidding me?" Her father asked. "You're sitting in here. Rotting away in here. You could very well be taken to jail at any moment, where we all know you won't survive, and you won't say a word about anyone?" She sat in silence. So much for doing whatever he wanted. When her mother began to cry, she couldn't take it anymore. She stood up and went to the door to be let out.

"I'm ready." She said to the guard.

"Abby, get back here!" Her father ordered. The guard and the lawyer, both having seen this dozens of times before, pretended not to hear the exchange. "Abby! For once in your goddamn life, you will listen to me!" She continued to ignore him as the door was opened and she stepped through it. "Abby! Haven't you learned anything?!" He yelled after her. And she had. She'd learned that she wanted to die.

...

She sat in the courtroom wearing a dress that her mother had brought her. She wore no makeup, and her hair was dry, frizzy and all around uncared for. It clashed badly with the pretty dress. She didn't care. She received a lecture about appearance and how that could affect her sentencing. She still didn't care. She sat next to her lawyer, a zombie. Someone was talking, she didn't even know who. Her parents sat behind her. She'd refused to let Aaron be there. He didn't take it well. She tried not to feel anything, lest he'd feel whatever she felt- the twin thing. She wished she could find him another twin. He deserved another twin. Her lawyer nudged her. Everyone was staring at her. The judge said her name. She assumed by the irritation in his voice that it wasn't the first time he'd said it. She stood. At least they'd agreed to take her handcuffs off. The feel of them on her wrists still made her sick to her stomach, and she'd had them taken on and off dozens of times in the last week. She heard the judge speak. She heard the sigh of relief from her parents. But nothing connected. Her lawyer put her arm around her shoulders and hugged her. The gavel was hit, and the officer walked towards her to take her away. She assumed that they'd won. Whatever that meant.

Her mother cried, her father refused eye contact, except with the lawyer. He was shaking her hand and thanking her. Abby thought she should probably do the same. They'd won. But she still sat in a locked room, now back in her white shirt and grey cotton pants. In a building, the closest she'd ever been to hell. Maybe it was hell. Maybe she had died, and this was hell. She'd go there for sure if she did die, if she had died. Her mother wasn't allowed to hug her in here, and she wondered if that was what the tears were for. Or were they tears of joy that they'd won? Her father sat down in front of her, and the hatred in his eyes snapped her brain back to reality. Her senses all turned on at once.

"Abby, do you understand what just happened?" She blinked a few times and tried to speak, but her lips stuck together. She wet them and tried again.

"Yes. We won." Her voice was monotone. It gave her mother chills.

"Are you on drugs?" He asked. It wasn't kind, it wasn't full of concern.

"No." She said. And then the anger and fear bubbled to the surface. "Will you ever stop asking me that?" She wailed with a meekness, a dissonance that ruled their lives.

"Probably not." He admitted, not ashamed to feel that way at all.

"She's not." Her lawyer said. "They drug test before court."

"We'll see you on Monday." Her mother said, having gained control of her tears.

"Okay." She acknowledged. She wanted to ban Aaron from ever coming here again, but she also needed something bright in this cold and terrifying place.

"Ninety days, Abby. That's it. You can do this." Her mother said. She didn't know if the pep talk was meant for her or her mother. Her mother didn't know either. "I love you, Abby. I think about you every moment." She said, clutching at her heart.

"I love you too, mom. But please don't. Forget I exist for ninety days. And if I'm still here, then you can think about me." Jennie wasn't quite sure what she meant. It seemed cryptic almost. The guard came in and signaled that it was time to leave. He took Abby away. Her father said nothing, though she held his stare until she couldn't any longer.