Casket of Lights

Chapter 11 : An Angel's Echo

Rossé Lilybeth's POV

For a while, it felt like I am inside a hollow space, deeply being plundered into a deep void. I listened to my own despairs, questions that were leaving inside me like a valve as it resulted to a bigger puzzled that I knew I needed to solve.

“What are we doing here, Stan?” My eyebrows snapped in a line as we walked towards the unfamiliar hallway. As I gazed at the surroundings, my mouth dropped upon seeing the traditional interior that I think influenced by some old European décor between 18th to 19th century. I squinted my eyes at the dark wood colors and distinctive neutral colors and intricate architectural details like the coffered ceilings.

As we walked towards the small passage, I saw a man in his orange shirt with his impulsive movement, looking back and forth, sitting in a wooden symmetrical chair which complemented the walls. “Thought were going to a park for sight-seeing?” I glanced at Stan who walked at the corner of the room, eyes locked at the judge and the executioner.

“Keep ya’ tone down,” Stan said.

I was about to sit when the judge’s voice rung into my ears. “Verdict: Case closed, not guilty.” I scrunched my face as I have heard the judge’s last words. “We’re late,” I said as I smothered my shirt.

The ones who were like me, probably, were still on off trail. I do not know what to feel or what to react the moment I had seen the judge’s court. Memories of me on my younger days occupied into my mind, slowly recalling the things that happened that day.

“He needed to go to prison. He does not need to be laying in no mental hospital. He needed to go to prison.” A man in a black suit, screamed. Pain was plastered in his eyes as he cried his heart out at the front of the judge.

Could it be a pity? Or was it a lack of father to feel so miserable watching them in front of me. Yet perhaps there was no doubt. Watching this in just a short span of time, made my heart broke into pieces. Was it because of the injustice? Would it also happen to me at the future?

“He wanna play crazy? He was not crazy when he murdered my daughter. But he was not crazy then, but he was crazy now.” He paused for a while, losing the confident ambiance so the police had to hold and escort him away from the court. “All the sudden he was crazy. You wanna lay in mental hospital? You murdered my daughter for nothing, and she was trying to get away from you!” he added.

He muttered the last part bitterly, “She was trying to get away from you man. You kept shooting her in her back while she was under the truck. You kept shooting him. You murdered her!”

The suspect watched him shocked at the reality. For a while, it felt like I am inside a hollow space, deeply being plundered into a deep void. I listened to my own despairs, questions that were leaving inside me like a valve as it resulted to a bigger puzzled that I knew I needed to solve.

“What are we doing here, Stan?” My eyebrows snapped in a line as we walked towards the unfamiliar hallway. As I gazed at the surroundings, my mouth dropped upon seeing the traditional interior that I think influenced by some old European décor between 18th to 19th century. I squinted my eyes at the dark wood colors and distinctive neutral colors and intricate architectural details like the coffered ceilings.

As we walked towards the small passage, I saw a man in his orange shirt with his impulsive movement, looking back and forth, sitting in a wooden symmetrical chair which complemented the walls. “Thought were going to a park for sight-seeing?” I glanced at Stan who walked at the corner of the room, eyes locked at the judge and the executioner.

“Keep ya’ tone down,” Stan said.

I was about to sit when the judge’s voice rung into my ears. “Verdict: Case closed, not guilty.” I scrunched my face as I have heard the judge’s last words. “We’re late,” I said as I smothered my shirt.

The ones who were like me, probably, were still on off trail. I do not know what to feel or what to react the moment I had seen the judge’s court. Memories of me on my younger days occupied into my mind, slowly recalling the things that happened that day.

“He needed to go to prison. He does not need to be laying in no mental hospital. He needed to go to prison.” A man in a black suit, screamed. Pain was plastered in his eyes as he cried his heart out at the front of the judge.

Could it be a pity? Or was it a lack of father to feel so miserable watching them in front of me. Yet perhaps there was no doubt. Watching this in just a short span of time, made my heart broke into pieces. Was it because of the injustice? Would it also happen to me at the future?

“He wanna play crazy? He was not crazy when he murdered my daughter. But he was not crazy then, but he was crazy now.” He paused for a while, losing the confident ambiance so the police had to hold and escort him away from the court. “All the sudden he was crazy. You wanna lay in mental hospital? You murdered my daughter for nothing, and she was trying to get away from you!” he added.

He muttered the last part bitterly, “She was trying to get away from you man. You kept shooting her in her back while she was under the truck. You kept killing him. You murdered her!”

The suspect watched him shocked at the reality of the situation, making him hung his head low in shame.

Through all that time, I had still a lot of memories and ideas to process to the point that it left me quiet for just a while as if an angel passed by. All I could only hear was everyone’s footsteps walking away from the room as they fell in tears.

Looking at Stan, his face was clouded with sadness. “You always watch this?” I asked, taking a sigh after the sight in my disbelief. It felt like a sledgehammer being thrown at you for watching someone being murdered in front of you.

Stan replied with a sly smile before he replied, “Not as usual.”

“Why are we even here?” I uttered, hands on my pocket as we exited the room.

He patted my head like a child. “To make ya’ realize that not every person can successfully claim justice,   –  ” he blurted that made me stopped for a while. “ – and not all person deserves a chance.”

Silence engulfed the area. All that was left inside of me was hums and fizzes and my own deep thoughts. It was an extraordinary something else. Does all person deserve a chance?  

“As ya’ senior, here.” He paused for a while, walking at my exact pace, and said, “Know what you really want and evaluate the consequences,” he continued while pointing at my heart. “C’mon, I’ll show you.”

I was about to answer when a sudden growl from my stomach filled our senses. “Let’s grab something.” I looked away, feeling a sudden heat going up to my face.

“Ya’ want some snacks?” In a soft voice, Stan asked.

I nodded. “Sure thing! I want a blueberry flavored,” I replied, smiling wide and big.

Few blocks away from the court before the intersection, we stopped over in a small minimart. As I scanned the surroundings, there was not much of food, not in my likings so I just grabbed a bar of chocolate and handed it to Stan.

After I have seen him, my eyes widened in disbelief. “Wasn’t that too much for the both of us?” I asked as I gazed at the huge cart he was pushing. I laughed. “Or was your fridge empty?”

Stan replied with a smile while pushing the cart towards the cashier. After several minutes, I helped Stan carry with a box of grocery and a plastic full of grocery.

Behind the tall buildings, not far away, there was a small, deserted compound. My eyes landed at the transitional exterior design with a mixed of modern design elements and a neutral color palette of blue. As we moved forth, the curved furnishings were visible as it gives a straight-lined lacquered finish using an impactful art as focal point.

“How are ya’ doin,’ bud?” Stan asked as he approached the boy sitting at the porch. “Sid, I have something for ya’,” Stan’s voice softened, eyes blazed with worry. “Where’s ya’, dad?” he added.

I tilted my head to see them. My eyes widened when I saw the boy. His eyes were gray, not dark nor light, which really suited his petite white as the cloud’s skin body. Oddly, as I seen them talk, I could see warmth in their connection as if they were in a tranquil place.

Sid flashed his bunny smile; all teeth were shown as his eyes were beaming with light. “Working, Uncle Stan.” Sid ran towards Stan, dropping his basketball to hugged him.

“Send my greetings, then,” Stan replied as he placed the groceries at their white tiled porch.

“Thank you for the food! Won’t you eat something before you leave?” Sid offered.

Stan patted Sid’s shoulder and kneeled. “No, we have to go,” he said, pausing for a while, looking at the door before he continued. “Sorry, bud. Maybe next time.”

Everything came crashing at me like I was in a massive storm of thoughts for a while, hesitating to ask a question. So, I took a deep breath and faced him. “Is that your child?”

“It was my best friend’s child,” Stan whispered. He took several coughs, recomposing himself.  “Who had to choose between saving someone else’s life or hers.” Smiles from Stan’s lips dissolved as his eyes teared up.

“So…” I felt my heart increased as his gaze became sadder. There was something inside his eyes that just seemed so off that somehow, I could relate to… There was an emptiness that I think no one could solve except for the person behind that. “That’s the reason why you had to leave your station every Saturdays?”

A smile slipped at my lips as I recalled a memory.

“Someone’s here for ya.” Stan greeted, flashing a smile on his face but his brows turned up when I replied with groan. “Don’t ya’ give me that look. Get up!” he said, voice higher than usual as he unlocked the cellar.

I thought he would poke my head like usual but to my surprise, Stan sat at the monoblack chair away from mine, pulling out a picture in his right hand. Sitting up straight, my eyes were still dazed from sleepiness, so I looked at him confusedly.

As if on cue, I had felt that there was a dull unease at the base of my stomach, as if telling me that there were ill winds that would come into my place.

I wore my slippers silently and walked towards Stan. I peeked at the photo and saw a girl in her mid-twenties, smiling with Stan who was busy eating ice cream in his hand. “Who’s that? Your girl?” Her eyes were as green as an emerald that suits with her white flowy dress. “She’s stunning.”

Stan coughed, facing me. “Yeah , she is.” He once again flashed his full smile, but his eyes were broken and fuzzy. “But no, she’s mah man. Let’s go.”

The sound of our footsteps echoed around the area. Many prisoners gazed at me while I was walking but I just shrugged both my shoulders and proceeded. Stan and I stopped in a metal door. As it opened, a man was standing at the nearest metal chair.

The man’s corner lip, quirked up. “A pleasure to meet you, Rosse. I’m Noah.” My mouth went slightly agape as he looked at me saying my name. I could see his muscular form reeking dominance that made me scrunched my face.

“Is this my therapist?” My eyes landed at him. His hair was shaken at the sides, short brown curls grazing his forehead as his tattooed dared to run up to his arms  .

“Behave, Rosse,” Stan warned, both hands were on his hip.

Noah flashed a full smile; eyes glazed with curiosity. “Let us start with your age?” He asked.

My blue silky hair flopped onto my face and as I huffed, throwing myself on the chair, he looked at me confused. “Why don’t you just check it on your file?” I chuckled; arms crossed at my chest. “Yep, I’m pretty sure of was included there.”

“What are your plans when you leave?” He asked slowly, eyes stuck on me.

A deep mocking voice came. “Eat potato chips all day?” I uttered, eyes roaming around the four corners of the room, yawning.

“Rosse Lilybeth!” Stan yelled, making me almost slipped at my chair.

Noah cleared his throat as he shifted his gaze into the file. “Perhaps, shall we just proceed?” He paused for a while, taking a long breath. “What was your experience like in here?” He added, stretching out his long legs as he brushed it into mine.

I rolled my eyes in annoyance. “Boring but I have Alexander Stancio!” I said, looking at Stan’s bloodshot eyes as I pointed at my legs using my lip.

Stan instantly slapped the table, making Noah’s legs moved away from mine. “Alright, time’s up.” He looked at Noah, mouth snapped in a line and said, “Time to go.”

After shutting the door, I heard Stan asked. “What did ya’ just said a while ago?” Stan’s voice turned hard, eyes squinting on me.

I chuckled, disregarding his usual expression. “At least, I’m telling the truth,” I replied, walking to my cellar. The moment that we have reached my cellar, I instantly run towards the bed and slammed my body against the soft foam in a wooden based bed.

I held my gaze heavenward, thinking. For a moment, the thoughts of my flow came rushing in.

“Are ya’ alright?”

That being said, I nodded as a response. “Can I have the potato chips now?” I grinned, eyebrows moved up and down.

Stan raised his brows and walked to the nearest cabinet and handed a bag of potato chips. “Don’t tell anyone,” he said, letting a soft sigh. “You see this?”

I tilted my head to see his hand.“What’s that? A demonic symbol? I haven’t noticed that your part of one.” My eyes widened. “Help!”

He rolled his eyes, getting straight to the point. “Ya’ shut ya’ mouth.” Stan winced at the bluntness of my voice before shaking his head. “I do not believe in that.”

“Let me teach ya’. Raise ya’ right hand,” Stan said, taking calm breaths.

I nodded, looking at his hand as I raised my right hand. “Alright,” I uttered, squinting my eyes at his hand.

“Cross both index and your middle finger.”

After several attempts, I kicked the pebble in front of me, only letting my little anger out. “Don’t wanna.” My mouth twitched yet my left hand was still at the air.

The corner of his eyes crinkled, annoyance clouded his features. “Just do it,” he said, nodding, waiting for me to follow his gesture.

“Alright, alright.” I followed his instructions as the corner of my lips turned up after solving the correct way of what he was doing. “And then?” I said as I observed his movements.

“Bring down ya’ ring finger.”

Before he could bring down his finger, I noticed the small gold ring in his hand perfectly fitted. “Nice, ring!” I commented as both corners of my lip turned up.

He massaged the back of his neck as he mumbled, “Thanks.”

“Is this right?” I studied him, following his instructions as I compared my hand and his. “Ya’ I’m a Rockstar, y’all,” I shouted, waiving my hand at the air like I am owning a concert in the prison.

Stan ran a hand through his tower hair. “A friend once told me that this symbolizes that ‘I’m okay’ and I want ya’ to know this.” He tensed his shoulder as I caught a pang of pain flashed for a while.

But I disregarded my thought and answered, “You’re the best!” I jumped at my place as I repeated the movement that he had taught me.

Stan responded with a chuckle. “Sure, I am!”

At one moment, I wondered the feeling of having and was being raised by a father. I examined him skeptically as he walked away from the gate of my cellar. “Where are you going?” I asked, raising my left brows. “Stancio Alexander!” I yelled his name, making him turned at my direction.

“Somewhere along the void and the colors,” Stan said before pivoting his feet, leaving me dumbfounded.  

I went back to my senses after smelling the mixed  aromatic scent of coffee which lingered through the air. Stan started walking towards the coffee shop, so I followed. As Stan pulled the glass door, coffee smells infused the air, flowing out into the street, mixing with the gloomy weather.  

My eyes squinted at his neck and asked. “What’s that?” I looked at it carefully as it flashed a dark purple color; round and wide. “You got  a hickey or something?” I asked, pointing at his neck.

Stan’s eyebrows creased, looking at me like I just told a joke. “I haven’t kissed anyone,” he said, while picking up his expresso coffee, a slice of blueberry cake, and a can of soft drink.

I chuckled; heart pounded fast. “What? You’re kidding right?”

“Am I?” He threw me a deadpanned look as he proceeded sitting at the two-egg shaped chair, a meter away beside the front door.

My soft laughs evaporated at the air as my lips snapped in shut. “For real?”

But Stan’s eyes widened, colors drained from his face. “Let me grab something,” he said, reaching for his pocket.

“Was that a pill?” I pursed my lips together, looking at him thoroughly, waiting for an answer.

He smiled at me, reaching for a water at the nearest water station. “No, a vitamin,” he said before swallowing the pill and water.  

“Doesn’t look like one,” I said before attacking the slice of my cake. I paused, looking at him and my cake back and forth, heart beating hours per minute, reaching at my left pocket. “Gotta tell you something. I found this,” I said as I raised a picture of me between two persons that I assumed that they were my parents as they have the same blue eyes like mine.

“What’s that?” Stan took his glasses off and I could tell how much he needed them by how he squinted his eyes to see the picture. “Are ya’ the girl?” he asked, pointing at the coffee-colored picture.

I looked away as the corner of my lips formed a small smile, “Yeah, and I could not figure out if this is my biological parents.”

“Stan, would you help me?” I asked, directing my attention to my spoon. It was as if the heater was turned on as beads of sweat fell from my temples to my cheeks. “I really got a bad feeling about this.”

He stopped drinking at his coffee, scrutinizing me. “Are ya’ sure it is really ya’ at the picture?” he asked.

Maybe it will be a risk but all I have was myself and this urge to answer the puzzle inside of me. I gazed at his eyes, pleading. There was a long pause before I spoke, “Can we go back to Churchill’s place?” of the situation, making him hung his head low in shame.