The Rise of the Grim Reaper: Sylvan Sasha Whitney

Chapter Two: Freedom Clock

    MY HOUSE, IN SIMPLEST of terms, was a f*****g mess. Blood was everywhere, blood splatters painting the wooden floors of the entryway hallway despite the fighting having taken place within the dining room. Furniture was overturned, scattered pieces of broken wooden chairs scattering the floor. Food still sat on the table, albeit scattered about the table just as messily as the floor, but still there nonetheless.

    The remnants of the last holiday with my family, my last Whitney family Christmas. It was as though a shadow had been cast over my home, it felt cold and empty within unlike its usual warmth. Perhaps it was due to my mama dying, her warmth would never fill our home and hearts again.

    I didn’t bother to lock the door, barely bothered to close it. It all seemed pointless now, seeing as I was a fifteen year old orphan with no way to keep my own home. Not to mention that I was on trial for murder, I would more than likely never see my home again in the coming days. Even I could tell, after having that rather pleasant talk with my lawyer.

    With a sigh I ignored the chaos that coated my home, wandering down the hall to the bedrooms in search of sleep that would no doubt elude me. My room was small, only enough space for a twin sized bed, a dresser and a small desk. The walls were bare, the only decoration was the navy blue comforter that covered my bed. Without another thought I stepped onto the white carpet of my room, leaving a trail of light red footprints to my bed before I plopped down.

    Sleep swept over me surprisingly quickly, only to drown me in the black depths of endless nightmares.

    A shuffling noise made its way to my ears. I paid it no mind, rolling over in my bed in an effort to escape the noise that threatened to awake me. Vaguely aware that the dried blood covering me was beginning to smell I scowled, burying my nose deep within my covers to avoid the stench. After moments of silence I jolted awake, covers torn away from me as words groggily made their way into my ears.

    “Whitney! How could you just sleep here like this, leaving your front door unlocked after what just happened?” A masculine voice called, a familiar face hovering above me.

    Payne, I groggily recognized as I rubbed at my face. The police officer stood before me in his uniform, as usual, only this time a rather angry look graced his features. His face was rather flushed, knuckles pale and white as he gripped my navy comforter as though he was strangling it.

    I opened my mouth to speak, only mumbling incoherent strings of Russian in my sleepy state. Payne made no move to speak, only c*****g a golden eyebrow down at me as his scowl deepened.

    “What are you doing here?” I finally asked, standing up as I stretched.

    He tossed my blanket back onto my bed, the bed now smeared with stains of all kinds. “I am your temporary guardian, due to your lack of relatives, the only reason why you were allowed back in your house. I have to come check up on you periodically. Also, I came to tell you of your court date, of course. It’ll be held within two weeks, on a Wednesday.”

    Now that woke me up. “What? They’ve already decided on a date, so soon?” I asked, turning to look up at him in confusion.

    Payne nodded, his blond hair shaking with the movement. “Your case is rather high profile for our town, it was decided that completing your trial as soon as possible would be for the best.”

    The best for who? Me or the politicians who run the city? It seemed as though no one in power cared for my case, only wished for it to disappear with an impeccable speed.

    I sighed, rubbing my hands over my face. “Such a quick trial doesn’t seem to be in my best interest.”

    Payne made no comment, only further solidifying my thoughts on the matter. Payne followed me out of my room and down the hall towards the kitchen. Too tired, mentally, to cook much of anything I simply made two quick chicken sandwiches. I passed one to Payne silently, the both of us eating rather quickly.

    Payne slapped a hand onto my shoulder, drawing my attention to him, after we finished eating. “I’ll come check up on you from time to time, just stay out of trouble. I doubt that’ll be hard for you, though.”    

    With that Payne left, leaving me to wallow in the darkness that danced within my subconscious.

                                                                                ~*~

    Payne had indeed checked up on me over the last few weeks, his visits increasing more as the trial neared. Often just visiting to have lunch or sit in silence. Karen, the witch who was to represent me, never set up another meeting. Now, I’m no lawyer but I’m sure that isn’t a good sign. No matter what our first impression of one another was.

    “Sylvan,” Payne called, clutching a PS4 remote in his hands as I had zoned out.

    “Hmm?” I murmured in question as I returned to the land of the living, looking back at the TV screen to see the loading menu of Call of Duty III.

    “If you keep zoning out like that we’ll never be able to finish a few matches before I have to go for my night shift.” He stated, frowning at my lack of interest in our game.

    At that I sent him a side glance, my brown eyes clashing against his dejected blue eyes. Payne, as he often stated over these past weeks, has become something of an older brother to me. For a man in his mid-twenties only just starting out his career as a cop he seems to be rather attached to this case. So attached that he brought his console and video games over to my house after he cleaned up the mess my parents’ murders left.

    “I’m paying attention, Payne.” I muttered, not breaking our gaze.

    A frown pinched his lips, his eyes still holding quite the dejected look. “First you don’t pay attention while we’re gaming and now you call me Payne? I thought we’ve been over this, to call me Manni instead.”

    I looked away, fiddling with my own control. “Manni, start the match already. Soon I won’t be able to play games like this.”

    A heavy silence settled around us as the match began, Manni not quite appreciating the dark turn of events. Even the night before my trial he seemed to be rather optimistic, adamant that trusting in the system would be the right approach. Yet, as the time ticks away on my freedom clock all I feel is dread.

    The sounds of gunfire and people dying sounded from the surround sound, the noise of death something that echoes constantly within my nightmares. A handful of matches later Manni stood, much like every other night he visits, and pulls me into a bone crushing hug.

    “Don’t worry, Sylvan. I’ve talked to many within the precinct, everyone believes that your trial will go well. Just as long as you don’t do anything to make the jury doubt your state of mind you will be fine.” He muttered, leaning over as he clutched me tightly.

    Manni seemed to be far more worried than I, his hands supporting a slight tremor as he gripped my back. With a sigh I wrapped my arms around the large man, patting his back lightly. It seemed as though this would be our last goodbye by how this man was shaking.

    “I’m not worrying, Manni.” I stated, murmuring just as lowly as him. “I know you’ll be there too. Whatever happens I’m prepared for the worst.”

    I won’t ever be prepared for the worst. I never expected my life to take such a dark turn.

    Manni didn’t bother to say anything else, he only left in depressed silence. As the front door slammed closed it was as though the warmth and happiness had been sucked out of my home, Manni often being the only source of such feelings these days. I plopped back down on the couch, staring into the black void of my TV.

    Ghostly whispers caressed my mind as I leaned backward, staring up at the ceiling. Phantom thoughts, darker than any void, danced across my mind freely. Whispers of my family, of the child that had yet to be born. Of the friends I slaughtered in order to protect myself, the people that I should have slaughtered earlier to protect my family.

    A burning pain raced across my hands, causing me to flinch. I sent a glance down to my hands, the bandages wrapped around them stained red with blood. The pain was yet another reminder of the hate and anger burning deep within me. I glanced at one of the many holes that now decorated my walls, courtesy of my recent explosive anger. The part of me that I had always kept buried deep, the angry and irrational part of me, seemed to keep making appearances after my families death.

    With a sigh I leaned back on my couch, throwing my arms up behind my head. From the foreboding feeling settling deep within my gut I was almost positive my time as a free woman was ending, as short as it was. As a sleep haze ebbed into my mind I drifted away without a thought.

    I woke with a start, lurching forward and nearly flinging myself off the couch. A loud banging noise was echoing from my front door, the noise annoyingly consistent. I wobbled to my feet just as muffled yelling made its way to my ears.

    “Sylvan Whitney, open up. We’re here to escort you to the courthouse.” A deep voice called through the door as he continued to bang against my door.

    I peered through the peephole easily, spotting three uniformed cops. “I’ll be out in a moment, I need to change my clothes.” I stated, leaving the door quickly.

    Only moments later did I leave my home dressed in a maroon hoodie and black leggings paired with chunky black sneakers. My hair was thrown up in a messy bun, comfort was my main priority in this rather terrible event.

    The cops looked at me for a moment, as though they couldn’t believe someone so tiny and young could kill two people. I c****d an eyebrow at them, silently pushing for their staring to be done with. We left in a cop car, another officer following behind us in his own car. I stared out of the window with disinterested eyes as the courthouse came into view. The old brow brick building loomed above me, filling me with a sense of impending doom and gloom.

    The nudge to my back broke me away from my strange haze, the cops herding me into the building. It was a few hours before noon and the courthouse was bustling with people. Heels and leather shoes clacked against the granite flooring, bright lights painting those who rushed about in a pale glow. Compared to all others I seemed to be rather under dressed.

    “This way,” the cop in front of me stated, “your trial is about to start.”

    I followed the cop up a few flights of stairs silently, not mentioning how odd I thought it was not to have spoken to Karen yet. On the day of the trial, no less. Two cops pushed open the large wooden double doors that led to the courtroom, the third ushering me in with not so subtle nudges.

    It seemed as though the world had stopped at that moment. Everyone turned to look at me, all sorts of gazes and expressions that I could have done without. With a stone cold face I steeled away my emotions, the condescending looks of these people wouldn’t get me down. I wouldn’t let them, they weren’t in my position and they would never understand. All they could do is judge with their narrowed views, never having been in the same situation.

    As the cops left my side I walked forward to where I saw Karen sitting, the witch sending me a look filled with distaste.

    Suka.

    I sat down beside her, leaning towards her so I could murmur in her ear lowly. “Good morning to you too, b***h. How’s my case going? Because I certainly wouldn’t f*****g know, considering you haven’t spoken to me in weeks.”

    Karen’s head whipped to the side to stare at me in shock rather quickly, her blood red painted lips dropped wide. “What?” She asked, her voice rather high pitched.

    I leaned back in my chair, feeling rather good thanks to her reaction, c*****g an eyebrow at her. “Oh, you heard me you mudak.” Shithead, I called her.

    A seemingly befitting term for her.

    I turned my head towards the judge as he sat high within his seat, presiding over the court room from a rather advantageous position. He sat in his raised seating against the center of the far wall, a similar yet shorter seat nestled beside him. A chair for witnesses, or those who are called upon to speak no doubt. 

    “The court session will begin now.” The balding gray haired man called, slamming his gavel down to silence the low muttering of those around us. “This is in regards to the case of Sylvan Whitney, the murder of her parents followed by the consecutive murders of those who attacked them in self-defense.”

    The judge nodded at Karen, prompting her to stand and speak. “I am Karen Konn representing the defendant, Miss Whitney, against her criminal charges as her criminal defense lawyer.”

    With that Karen sat, the prosecutor standing upon the prompt of the judge. “I am John Smith, the prosecutor of this case.” The man simply stated as he pushed up his glasses, his brown hair slicked back with gel.

    They droned on for quite a while longer, legal terminology that went in one ear and out another. I leaned back and forth slightly within my seat, the boredom gnawing at my nerves.

    “I call the defendant, Sylvan Whitney, to the stand.” Smith stated, looking down at me through his glasses.

    I stood with a shrug, following a police officer up to the stand beside the judge. Sitting within the hard wooden chair I splayed my hands across the desktop, leaning forward as I looked down at him.

    “Describe the events of that night for the courtroom please.”

    With a frown pinching my lips I sighed, running a hand through my hair without messing up my bun before I began. “It was Christmas, my family and I had just finished setting the table for dinner. My friends who I had invited earlier arrived. We ate, making idle chatter like usual. I did pick up some odd vibes from Leo and Evelyn at times but I just shrugged it off, ignored it. Obviously that wasn’t the correct decision seeing as not much later they stabbed my mother to death before doing the same to my father.”

    Smith nodded, motioning for me to continue. “Yes, and?”

    I c****d my head to the side as though confused. “They turned towards me, ready to finish what they started. I did what any sane person would in the face of a life or death situation, I fought to live.”

    They didn’t attack you, you attacked Evelyn. A voice whispered within my mind, the little lie I just told not fazing me in the slightest.

    Smith nodded, reaching into his briefcase to pull out a few papers and photos. “I see. However, as seen within these autopsy reports, the two perpetrators Evelyn and Leo died rather violent deaths. Evelyn’s throat was slit from ear to ear, her official cause of death strangulation due to the blood that filled her throat. Leo had over twenty stab wounds dealt to his torso, and others scattered elsewhere, with his cause of death excessive blood loss. In the majority of self-defense cases the manslaughter victim is never killed in such a violent way.”

    “And?” I asked with a shrug. “Everyone reacts to traumatic situations differently, no one truly reacts to fight or flight situations exactly the same.”

    “Is that the doctor to be within you answering? The knowledge of anatomy and biology surfacing to plead your innocence?”

    I c****d an eyebrow. “No. That’s basic common sense, something that’s taught in high school curriculum.”

    Smith nodded once more, turning around to cast a glance at the jury. “Now, while that may be true one has to wonder why exactly you targeted the areas that you did. After a search of your room a rather vast amount of anatomical books denoting the human body, such as critical areas like the throat, were discovered. The wounds on Leo were scattered, but most were centered on the torso stabbing into rather deadly areas as though they were premeditated actions. Usually such feats would be hard for a young woman such as yourself to carryout, unless you had previously practiced such actions with the intent to wound others. It is likely that you never took into account Evelyn and Leo attacking your family, but was able to use the situation to practice methods that you had only theorized before.”

    Upon hearing all of the bullshit that left his mouth I was utterly appalled and flabbergasted. I thought that teenagers were rather well equipped at weaving together stories that made no sense. Yet this lawyer was spouting nonsense like he was the king of bullshitting.

    “Your honor, I object!” Karen called as she stood, doing something useful for the first time since I’ve come to know her. “What Mr. Smith stated was concluded through nothing but hypotheticals and no real evidence. Whitney is a student planning to become a doctor, it isn’t out of place for her to own medical books that relate to her future career path.”

    The judge nodded, turning his gaze away from Karen and onto Smith. “Ms. Konn is correct, Mr. Smith. Disregard this conclusion if you have nothing to back it up.”

    Smith nodded, but held his hand up in a motion as though to ask for a moment. “Which brings me to my next witness that I’ll be calling to the stand, Juliana Banel.”

    Immediately the blood rushed away from my face, leaving my skin pale and my nose cold. The woman who walked past me to the stand was undoubtedly Evelyn’s mother, looking quite like her. With her hazel eyes and heart shaped face, only her hair was a shimmery auburn instead of Evelyn’s dark black. Whether it was from her strut in those heels or the perfect outfit, she looked rather well put together. She looked like a completely different person than what Evelyn’s father had described.

    Once Juliana was seated Smith began his questioning once more. “Ms. Banel, I’m sorry to have to ask you here during your time of grief. However, your input on the situation could shed some light on this case.”

    My eyes nearly shot out of my skull. Her time of grief? Her grief! I’m on a goddamned trial, right after my parents murders, which will probably end with me getting sent to prison for life for f*****g self-defense, and now this b***h is grieving the loss of her daughter when she hasn’t been involved in Evelyn’s life for at least ten years?

    King of Bullshit, thy name is Smith.

    “Thank you.” Juliana stated in a small voice with a sniffle, wiping at her eyes as though a soulless b***h as she could shed tears. “It’s just, I can’t believe my baby girl is gone. It feels as though it was just yesterday that she was on the phone with me, talking about how she was coming down to visit me during her Christmas vacation.”

    Well f**k, looks like the king found his queen. Didn’t know Evelyn’s mom had such great acting skills, even the tears welling up within her eyes seems real.

    “Tell me more about that.” Smith stated with a kind smile.

    “Well,” she started, “Evelyn wanted me to meet her boyfriend, so they were coming to spend a few weeks with me. They told me about a dinner they needed to attend, but then I didn’t hear anything from them. I only heard of what happened when I was called by the police as Evelyn’s next of kin.”

    “Did Evelyn say or do anything that suggested that she and her boyfriend would commit the murders they did?”

    Juliana sent Smith a rather convincing glare. “God no! My baby girl, God rest her soul, was a good God fearing child! I don’t even want to know how someone could twist her mind to do such things!”

    Evelyn was an atheist…

    “Oh?” Smith questioned. “What makes you think someone put such thoughts into her mind?”

    Immediately her gaze cut to my own, a look of disgust crossing her makeup caked features. “Evelyn mentioned reconnecting with a friend from her childhood, a little Russian girl named Sylvan. Immediately I told her to leave that girl be, not to associate with someone like her. After I had worked so hard to separate them during their childhood.”

    I was honestly surprised I was able to hold back after hearing all of this bullshit, but that was the last straw. I shot up from my chair, red in the face from anger and annoyance as I glared back at the woman.

    “The f**k you think you’re saying? I didn’t-” I started to exclaim, only to be silenced by the pounding of a gavel.

    “Silence! Juliana Banel is on the stand, not you! You do not have free range to speak within my courtroom! Sit down and wait until you are called upon.”

    With a grunt I sat down, crossing my arms with a huff. I ground my teeth together in annoyance, unable to help myself. I just couldn’t understand how so many people could just sit here and listen to all this bullshit. Even the jury seemed rather tuned into Juliana’s lies, despite never having met me before today.

    “And why did you say such things to your daughter? Why did you separate them during childhood?” Smith continued after the judge nodded at him.

    “Well, that child,” Juliana started, pressing a hand to her mouth as though sick as she nodded at me. “Did rather questionable things when she was young. On more than one occasion I caught sight of her tearing into an animal with a look of delight, her hands bloody as she stabbed it and tore it apart. Even her own tabby cat went missing once, a carcass was found not too long after.”

    My mouth dropped open in shock. The woman was spewing lie after lie, nothing but nonsense. Yet by the shocked gasps of the jury, they seemed to believe her words. It seems as though this trial has become nothing but a simple testimony of her words against my own, and it looked as though the words of a grieving mother held more weight.

    “What the f**k are you going to say in my defense against this nonsense?” I asked Karen in hushed tones, looking away from the soap opera that played out before me.

    Karen, the b***h, c****d an eyebrow at me. “Defense against what? Ms. Banel seems to make a rather convincing testimony.”

    “Testimony?” I asked with a chuckle of disbelief. “All the s**t she’s spouting is nothing but a well-rehearsed story, no proof of what she states. It’s nothing but conjecture. And if I know this you certainly do. So you better get some f*****g balls and do your goddamned job.”

    With a huff, and a rather wicked side glance, Karen stood. “Your honor, I object! The past twenty minutes of Ms. Banel’s testimony has been nothing but conjecture. There is no proof of what she states. Such baseless information cannot be used against my client in the court of law.”

    With a grunt the judge nodded once more. “Disregard Ms. Banel’s past statements.”

    But I knew, from the looks gracing the majority of the jury, that they wouldn’t be disregarding Juliana’s words anytime soon. Between Karen and Juliana my likelihood of surviving this trial seemed to be dwindling by the moment.

    “Thank you, Ms. Banel but those are all the questions I have for you at the moment. You may return to your seat. Ms. Whitney, will you return to the stand once more now that we’ve heard from Ms. Banel?”

    Begrudgingly I returned to the stand. A heavy feeling settled once more within my gut, a cold sweat breaking out across my skin as cold and dead eyes glared at me from the stands before me. The jury didn’t seem to have a high opinion of me.

    “Have you ever discussed theoretical violent assaults against others with Evelyn and Leo? Anything to lead them to thinking that such actions would be the best route of approach when facing their issues?”

    I snorted, unable to help myself. “No, of course not.”

    Smith narrowed his eyes. “May I remind you that you’re under oath, Miss Whitney?”

    I scoffed at him, nodding at him and Juliana. “May I remind the both of your lying asses that you’re also under oath?”

    Smith blinked at my response, as though expecting me to use less bite. “How about we switch gears? What made you think it was okay to stab a sixteen year old to death, to slit a fifteen year olds' throat?”

    I stared at him in disbelief before tapping my chin slowly as I looked up, as though in thought. “Hmm, I don’t know. Perhaps it’s how they had just stabbed my parents to death before hand? Yeah, that seems like a rather detrimental factor to the state of mind that I was in at that moment.”

    Smith’s gaze narrowed at my sarcastic response. “I see. So, you’re claiming that you weren’t in the right state of mind? Seems as though you’re only steps away from claiming momentary insanity to dispel the manslaughter charges.”

    I sent him a glare, my lips screwed up in a scowl. “Do I look like the type of person to claim insanity as a route of escape? I’m quite sane. I reacted the way I did to insure my own survival. I watched my friends, who I had known for years, slaughter my parents and unborn baby brother. After such a traumatic sight to see if I didn’t react violently I would be worried about my own state of mind.”

    With that Smith turned to look at the jury. “So, in your view, it’s okay to kill people as long as you’re given a reason? Would you meet violence with violence? Or would you react aggressively to the slightest of offenses? From the information gathered about your current behavior it seems you have rather an explosive anger. Something that can be shown by the wounds on your hands you received from punching holes in your walls throughout the past weeks. Based off of this behavior I conclude that you are a danger to those around you, your explosive anger and vast anatomical knowledge could lead you to put someone in the hospital or another in the grave.”

    With Smith’s rather dark conclusion I couldn’t stop myself from shooting up into a standing position, anger and panic rushing for me to spew out something in my defense. “I never said that it’s fine to kill people, not a single damn time! However, I’ll f*****g defend myself if the need arises! I’ll never roll over and let someone f**k me over, kill me off if I have the means to fight them off! Explosive anger? My family was just murdered you dipshit, excuse me for having a few meltdowns and minor mood swings. You say I’m a danger? You seem to be far more dangerous with your ability to spout such grade a bullshit without batting an eye!” I finished as I slammed my hands against the tabletop before me, my cheeks flushed and my breathing quick after having finished my tirade.

    “Your honor,” Smith started just as an awfully late Manni slipped into the back of the courtroom. “I rest my case.”