Starlight on the Snow - Chapter Five

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Chapter Five

Trigger Warnings: parent death

“All rise,” the bailiff announced.

Ash stood, his legs trembling with a ferocity that nearly had him sinking back into his chair. His throat continued to ache as though someone had struck it. He wanted to cry but he didn’t want to look like he only cared that he’d gotten caught. He truly was remorseful, he just didn’t know the best way to show it.

“Mr. Robards,” Judge Steven said, peering over the rims of his glasses, “would you like to make a statement?”

Ash gulped and looked up at the judge. He hadn’t realized he’d have to make one. There were a lot of things he wanted to say, but none of them were enough. None of them would ever be enough to fix what he’d done and the part that he’d played. It was truly a miracle that Mr. Cole had survived the incident, but it still didn't erase that it had happened.

He truly felt like a monster.

“Yeah, I...I’m sorry. I mean, I’d like to say that I’m sorry. For everything. I should have...I should have tried harder. I should have done more. I don’t...” He hung his head, his hands clammy and heart racing. He felt like such a piece of shit. “I don’t think there’s anything I can do to make up for it except get what I deserve. And I’d like to apologize to the families I—that I hurt. And that my father hurt. Especially the Coles. I wish I could go back and make the right choice that day so that Mr. Cole wouldn’t get hurt. So...yeah. I’m just sorry.”

Judge Steven pursed his lips and scrutinized Ash for a long, drawn-out moment. Then, he began to speak.

“Well, Mr. Robards, you’ve certainly allowed your father to pull you into a predicament here. You aided and abetted him in committing a crime, and someone got hurt. It’s very fortunate that Mr. Cole lived because if he hadn’t, circumstances would be very different for you. You demonstrated that to some extent, there was intent to commit robbery when you entered the ice cream shop. You willingly assisted your father to that end.

“Still, you have shown that you are remorseful and that you understand what you’ve done wrong. You have made it very clear that you knew what was going on was illegal. The witnesses did state that they heard you repeatedly attempting to talk your father out of his actions. That means something. I think that you’re a kid who made some bad choices. But it’s your parents’ job to take care of you and ensure you’re on the right path.

“The Cole family—as well as all of the families of the victims involved in this incident—have made it very clear that they do not want you to go to prison. It is clear that you were manipulated by your father in many ways to not only participate in this crime, but to be involved in the other crimes before. These charges are being carried out by the prosecution and to that end, I hereby sentence you to eleven months in the county jail, to begin immediately. I...”

His voice faded out as water rushed past Ash’s ears. He couldn’t believe it. How? Why? Why didn’t these people want him to suffer?

Judge Steven continued to speak, reading off the full verdict, but Ash only heard the parts that mattered.

Eleven months in the county jail. Three years of probation. Restitution to be paid to the victims and the business.

Ash’s knees buckled. His ears rang. He felt fear warring with relief in his mind, telling him how fucking fortunate he was to not be getting worse. He deserved worse—he knew he did—but this felt like a lifeline in the ocean he’d been drowning in for weeks.

“Mr. Robards, you’ll be notified when it’s time for your father’s trial, and then you’ll be called for testimony. Court is adjourned.”

The moment Judge Steven slammed his gavel down, Ash heard his mother let out a keening wail.

Ash’s eyes stung. He needed to keep it together. He had to. Under no circumstances could he fall apart at any time. Especially not in front of his mother. She needed him to be the strong one because his father wasn’t. Lizette needed Ash to be the man of the family and keep everything together.

Lizette threw her arms around his shoulders, because she was much too short to get them around his neck. She sobbed into his chest, her entire body wracked with emotion. Ash knew that she wasn’t only losing her husband, but her son, too, and all she had to look forward to was an empty house. She hadn’t worked in years and had no skills and no resume. Any money was gone, drained by Gabriel and his drugs.

Who would take care of her? Who would watch over her while she was filling herself up and destroying herself just to feel empty again? What if she died, and there was no one to find her?

I’m a bad son. A failure. A monster.

Overcome, Ash dropped his head into the crook of his mother’s neck and shoulder, unable to hold her due to the handcuffs. His heart cracked in his chest, the pieces shattering with his anguish.

“I’m so sorry, Mom,” he said, his muffled voice breaking. “I’m so fucking sorry.”

She held him tighter, sobbing so hard that her words were impossible to decipher. And as the cops grabbed his arms, gently trying to pry Ash away from her, Lizette had to be held up by the neighbor, Bertha. Her face looked crestfallen. Desolate. Her eyes swam with tears, which streamed down her face as she and Ash looked upon one another as long as they could.

As they neared the door that would take him away to the next eleven months of his life, Lizette gave a great, heaving gasp. Her hands clutched at the center of her chest. Another gasp. Her eyes widened.

What was happening?

“Wait a minute,” Ash said, looking back at her and struggling against the officers’ holds. “Wait. that’s my—Mom! Mom! What the fuck?! Mom, no! Momma!”

Lizette had collapsed.

The last thing Ash saw as they hauled him through the door at the back of the courtroom was a crowd of people swarming the place where his mother had gone down.

---

July 3rd, 2017

Ash ducked out of the way of another punch, his lungs spasming.

He was getting tired.

“You fucking teenage piece of shit,” snarled the man as he grabbed the front of Ash’s grey shirt and shook him. This was the first time he had ever been in the presence of a man that was as tall as him. At close range, he stood no chance. “I’ll fucking rip your insides out and feed them to you.”

Ash had one moment to blink before the prisoner slammed his large fist into his right eye, which was still ringed in a dark, tender bruise from Ash’s last fight. He barely managed to stifle a groan as the man slammed him up against the wall. The back of his head cracked against the stone. He saw stars.

They were outside in the yard for recreation and it wasn’t even lunchtime yet.

The man began beating Ash about the head, the full force of his knuckles pounding into already-bruised parts of his skull. Ash had done well in every fight before this one, but this was it. He hadn’t heard any news about his mom in three days. He’d been in Hell ever since—emotional and physical.

This was his limit.

“Hey!” shouted a correctional officer, waving a baton as he dashed over. “Hey, knock it off! Knock it off!"

Ash stumbled back against the wall in a daze, his vision blurred. He could see the other prisoners watching with disinterest. They’d been ignoring the spat, which was over what area of the yard Ash had been standing in when he finally skulked out of the corner to use the water fountain. Blood leaked from his nose, over his top lip, and into his mouth.

And then he fainted. When he woke, he was in the infirmary.

His head ached, throbbing with lasting pain. It had to be a concussion. The faint taste of metal lingered in the recesses of his mouth. His face felt swollen. In the mirror to the left of the bed, he could see that it was. He looked and felt like shit.

Ash had officially been in the county jail for eleven days, but it had only been three days since his trial concluded. In that time, he’d been in at least four fights. Something about his attitude pissed everyone off. He couldn’t find welcome with anyone, not even his soft-hearted cellmate, who’d managed to find a group to hang around within days.

This wasn’t his first time in the infirmary, either. He had a feeling by the end of his sentence, he and the nurses would know each other’s damn social security numbers.

But he knew he had to start trying to let things go. His body was falling apart. He couldn’t keep going through this, fighting day in and day out. It was destroying him. Maybe he’d try to befriend Diego, the guy who did the tattoos in the north end of the yard.

The door opened and a corrections officer that Ash hadn’t learned the name of yet poked his bald brown head in.

“You got a visitor,” he said, voice gruff. “Can you walk?”

“Yeah,” Ash said, his voice hoarse from disuse. He tossed the blanket aside and swung his legs around. His head spun. “I just need a second. Shit.”

The officer watched him, waiting while he slipped his feet into his shoes. Ash took slow, measured steps. The fight he’d had before last had given him a sprained right ankle and as long as he didn’t put too much weight on it, he was able to walk without a limp.

“Not settling in well, are you?” the officer said with a small grin. His keys jangled as he plodded along.

“Not really.”

“Ah, well.” The officer patted his shoulder, causing him to wince as he touched the tender contusion there. “You’ll do all right eventually. Kent told me you been through it since you got here. Somethin’ like eight fights? Nine? Damn.”

“I have a temper,” Ash muttered.

“Well, a temper isn’t gonna carry you for your sentence, son.” The officer laughed. “Best advice I can give is to make friends with the right people, keep your head down when seniority’s involved, and stay away from the wrong sort.”

“Yeah, all right,” Ash said, voice still a bit scratchy. “I’ll keep that in mind.”

“How long you in for?”

“Eleven months.”

“Oh, that’s not too bad. You’ll be fine, kid. It’s not like this is prison.”

“Yeah, thank fuck.”

When they reached the visitor’s area, the officer unlocked the door and then led Ash into a room with windows and phones. In the third window from the left, Ash saw that someone was there. His heart leapt with the first feeling of joy he’d had in days.

It was Elijah.

“You got fifteen minutes, all right?” the officer said, and then he positioned himself by the door with his hands on his belt.

Ash sat down in the chair and picked up the phone.

“Elijah,” he said, the relief pulling a sigh out of him. “I can’t fucking tell you how good it is to see you.”

“You look like ass,” Elijah said, grinning at him. His eyes seemed guarded, and he wore a blue tee shirt. “How is it like...like, going in here? Like, is it crazy, or do you have friends? Is it like extreme high school? I mean...”

“It’s a trip, man,” Ash said on an exhalation of breath. He slid down in his seat. “I don’t get along with anyone.”

Elijah let out a laugh but something felt off about it. Hollow. Like he was entertaining pleasantries before getting to the beginning of the meal.

What were they going to be eating?

“I can see that, dude, because what the actual fuck is going on with your face? You look terrible.”

Ash flashed him half of a smile. It hurt, stretching parts of his cheeks that were freshly-bruised. “I got my ass beat, I guess.”

“Clearly.”

Ash huffed and then tipped his head back. He rubbed the back of his neck with one hand, gritting his teeth against the ache. “Seriously. It feels good to hear your voice. I’ve been dying in here, waiting to hear what’s going on out there. Is my—”

“Everyone’s good right now,” Elijah said. “Ji Hyun gave me some money to give you for your commissary, or whatever it’s called. And then Andre wanted me to sneak you in some—” He pinched his forefinger and thumb together, holding them to his lips with a pointed look in his eyes. “—but you know how dumb he can be. As if they’d let me sneak that shit in.”

“Wait a minute.” Ash pulled a face. “Money?”

“Yeah, she gave me like, fifty bucks.”

“All right,” Ash said, distracted. “But why would Ji Hyun need to fill my commissary? Why didn’t you just ask my mom? She should have at least a little money.”

Elijah stared at him. He opened his mouth, a sound escaping his lips as words died there. When he averted his eyes to the side, Ash felt his stomach churning.

Something was wrong.

“So, what brings you here? Just visiting?”

“No, uh—well, I mean, yes.” Elijah’s eyelids fluttered as he waved a hand. “I’m here to visit, but I’m also here to...to talk to you.”

“Talk to me about what, man?”

Elijah’s head fell back. He stared hard at the ceiling, and Ash knew then that something was really wrong.

“Talk to me about what?”

“I’m sorry.”

Ash desperately wished he could freeze again. He was tired of feeling. He was tired of drowning in the remnants of when he used to feel nothing. He wanted to go back to a time when the roses and gardenias filled the frost-stained window in the kitchen, and his mother and father looked at one another because they loved each other. Back to when his father didn’t look to drugs, and his mother didn’t look to emptiness.

“No,” Ash said, shaking his head. “Don’t mess with me right now, Elijah.”

“She—” Elijah’s voice broke and he turned his face away again to let out a quiet sob. “Ash, I’m—”

“Shut your mouth,” Ash said, his eyes starting to fill with tears. His heart was tearing, small shreds beginning to dissolve within him. “Don’t.”

“Ash.”

“Don’t you fucking say it.” Ash squeezed his eyes shut and pulled the phone away. He placed the earpiece on his forehead, his right fist against his temple. Glaring at Elijah with the agony he felt burning in his eyes, his anguish started to suffocate him. He couldn’t breathe. “Don’t you fucking say it, Elijah.”

“I’m so sorry, Ash, but she’s gone.”