The Rise of the Grim Reaper: Sylvan Sasha Whitney

Chapter Three: f**k, You Hit Like a Man

    "GUILTY,” THE JUDGE CALLED, his voice echoing throughout the silent courtroom after having conversed quietly with the jury representative.

    The word seemed to echo within my mind as my jaw went slack. It was the verdict that I had expected, yet it was just as shocking. I didn’t even have time to speak to a rather bewildered Manni before I was ushered out of the room. Karen looked rather smug, despite having lost a case.

    Outside of the courtroom was nothing but the blinding lights of cameras and the endless loud chattering of reporters. There was a ringing in my ears, a white hot noise that blotted out most of what the reporters were calling out. Everything seemed to be moving impossibly fast, too fast as the only thing echoing within my mind was the judges’ final words.

    Guilty.

    “Whitney! Whitney, what was the verdict?” One reporter called out, shoving his mic near my face.

    I only blinked in silence as another reporter called out, breaking through the haze fogging my mind. “Will you be returning to your path to become a doctor? Or will you now have manslaughter charges marring your record?”

    With a grunt I pushed through the noisy reporters, feeling returning with every step I took away from the courtroom. The cold shocked feeling was slowly burned away, replaced with a smoldering anger. An anger directed at how unfair this all was, how I, who was just trying to survive had my life destroyed. With a record I would never be allowed to practice medicine, not even as a nurse. My dream to become a doctor is now, truly, nothing but a dream lost in the wind.

    As I was ushered into a squad car I ignored the flashing lights of the cameras, the calls of the reporters. It didn’t matter what the public viewed me as now, it wouldn’t affect me in any way. I was on my way to the clink, I had more pressing matters to think of. I’ve never been to in school suspension, much less juvie. Adjustments will have to be made in order for me to survive, no doubt.

    “We’ve arrived at your home, Whitney. Within a few days another officer will be coming to pick you up and drive you down to the station where the bus will take you and other prisoners to the correctional facility.” A cop up front stated, pulling me out of my thoughts.

    I hopped out of the squad car, with a lack of enthusiasm, and was pleasantly surprised by the lack of reporters. Once again I was left with my thoughts and the burning anger within. Something that doesn’t seem to be a rather good mix these days.

    With a sigh I entered my home, slamming the door behind me. I didn’t bother to turn on the lights, just wandered throughout the dark halls until I happened upon my couch. Dropping down onto it with a thud I leaned back, closing my eyes, trying to relax the anger within me. My mother’s sing song voice whispered throughout the halls, an illusion. Father’s light laughter filtered down the hall, as if he was only watching a comedy within his room. Light babbling of a baby made its way to my ears, as though my baby brother was alive sitting right beside me.

    At the illusions I couldn’t help the tears that streamed down my cheeks. My loss, although weeks old, felt like a fresh wound that festered and bled. It hurt so bad that I, someone who prefers not to cry, was sitting here bawling like an infant.

    “Stop it.” I stated to myself, weak and without conviction.

    I leaned forward, wiping away my tears. “Stop! You were never one to cry, so why start now?” I muttered as I rubbed at my eyes, eyes that were probably now swollen and red.

    I stood, an annoying unsettling feeling flashing through me. I couldn’t help but to pace back and forth, freeing my hair from its high bun. As my hair tumbled down to rest just past my shoulders I ran my hands through it, gripping my roots tightly. My tears had dried yet the sadness and frustration remained. It felt as though I had no control over my life, as though everything had already been decided for me. Like I was backed into a corner by those around me without any option of escape. That it mattered not how hard I struggled against what seemed to be fate, there wasn’t anything I could do to change my situation for the better.

    “Yebat’! f**k!” I groaned out, releasing my hair in favor of burying my face within my hands.

    “Sylvan?” Came a hesitant call followed by a light pattering of footsteps.

    “Not now, Manni.”

    The blond officer came in despite my warning, making his way throughout the dark house without flicking on a light. “Is there a reason as to why your house is so dark?”

    “To match my f*****g depressive mood.” I quipped without hesitation, dropping my hands to look up at him. “And why exactly are you here?”

    He shrugged, his hands stuffed in his front pockets. “I was only able to get there at the end, only saw the verdict. I’m sorry I wasn’t there for you, to support you.”

    I couldn’t see his expression but I’m sure it was rather somber due to his damper tone. “You being there wouldn’t have changed the verdict, so don’t beat yourself up about it.”

    “Still-,” He started, but I cut him off with a wave of my hand.

    “Stop. It’s already done with and I’m f****d. I’m looking at three years, Manni. On top of that my future is ruined. I have a record, there isn’t any way I can be in a medical occupation now. I just want to be left alone, everything’s already bad as it is. Just leave me alone.”

    Manni was silent for a few moments before taking a few steps towards me. “This isn’t the end, you know? You can petition the courts for a review, try for another verdict. Even if that doesn’t work you can always be released early for good behavior.”

    A heavy sigh was my only response.

    Would he leave if I ignored him?

    With that thought I turned away from him, giving him the cold shoulder. I didn’t need anyone to solace me, nor would I ever have the urge to cry on another’s shoulder. Stress bit at my frayed nerves, not a single relaxing moment after finally returning home. I was jumpy, I couldn’t sit still.

    “Sylvan…” Manni muttered, clapping a hand down on my shoulder.

    I stilled for a moment, another sigh escaping me. Of course giving him the cold shoulder wouldn’t work. So persistent.

    “What?”

    He released me after turning me to face him. With us standing this close I was able to see him properly, and upon looking at his heart wrenching expression I really didn’t want to. Sadness was prominent within the depths of his blue eyes, his blond hair messy as though he had ran his hands through it all too often.

    “Don’t get too depressed, Sylvan. You’re a bright girl, smart and witty. From what I’ve seen you aren’t the type to get knocked down and stay there. You’ve got to get out of this slump of yours, get your head screwed on straight.”

    I snorted, Manni seemed rather optimistic at the moment. “Being bright or smart doesn’t have anything to do with this, and you know it. They won, Manni. The judge, the jury, all the people who took one look at me and deemed me a cold blooded killer. Hell, Karen, my own lawyer, was against me from the beginning. And what the f**k was up with that nut job, Juliana?”

    Manni winced, scratching the back of his head. “Yeah, a buddy of mine that was there told me about that. Your luck definitely turned sour, having that woman show up. You know, I heard she made off with half a million in settlements.”

    I c****d an eyebrow up at him. “Huh? Who the f**k’s payin’ her?”

    Another wince. “I believe that’ll be taken out of your inheritance…”

    The silence was thick, the pressure of an imminent explosion prominent within the air. “That f*****g pizda! My inheritance couldn’t even be nearly that much!”

    Manni didn’t offer any answers, his silence catching my attention. Oh? Isn’t that odd, not only did I have a killer amount of inheritance but Manni was actually silent about a topic. He’s usually rather chatty when it comes to finding out things, despite his profession.

    I brushed off Manni’s silence, it wasn’t something to question now. “Are you done now? You’ve checked on me, we’ve chatted. Will you leave me so I can sleep?”

    “Yes.” He stated, unsure.

    I flashed him a cheesy grin, the fake smile falling on my lips easily. “You’ve nothing to worry about, Manni. Talking to you has made me feel much better.” The lie fell from my lips easily, easier than putting on the fake grin.

    Manni’s gaze softened at my grin, allowing me to lead him out. I watched him walk towards his car as my door slowly closed, my grin still in place. The moment the door slammed closed my grin dropped, the thoughts circling within my mind making me purse my lips. Today was, without a doubt, a shitty day. But at least I heard of something interesting, something that I could look into before getting shoved behind bars.

    That inheritance…

    With my lips still pursed I walked to my parents’ room, flicking on the light. From there on out I spent quite a few hours tearing through my parents room, searching for a reason to explain our secret wealth. But to no avail.

    “Nothing seems to be working out today.” I muttered, leaving the room with a frown.

    The new found information did nothing to improve my mood, I didn’t care all too much about the money. It did nothing to dampen my anger, the fire burned brighter still. Going to my parents’ liquor cabinet within our kitchen I helped myself to some whiskey and a few bottles of wine. It didn’t seem as though I could think my way through any of my problems tonight, might as well get drunk. Something that I surely wouldn’t have the ability to do all too often soon.

                                                                                ~~*~~

    “That fuckin’ beech’!” I slurred out in an angry yell, tossing a vase at the wall imagining it was Juliana’s face. “Pizda stealing my money that I didn’t even know of! How the f**k is that fair?”

    I paused to take another few gulps of whiskey out of the bottle, blinking at my blurry surroundings. “Fuckin’ hate fake ass beeches’, fuckin’ pizda lied like a pro. Kinda’ jealous, govno.”

    Ain’t nobody gonna’ miss these ugly ass vases now. I thought to myself as I picked another up, chucking it at the wall.

    Water and flowers splattered the walls, shards of my mother’s vases scattered the floor. A rare moment of silence filled my home as I looked around, not a single vase left to throw. But then I caught my mother’s gaze from within a recent family photo. We all looked so happy, grinning ear to ear. The sight of it made me sick to my stomach, because we weren’t happy now. A shock of sadness ran through me, but I shoved it away. Pushed it down, burying it beneath layers of anger as I glowered at the photo. Without another thought I punched straight through the picture, glass from the frame sticking into my fist as shards fell to the floor.

    Blood dripped down my fist as I turned to look at another photo, my otets. He, no doubt, would be looking down on me with disappointment if he was watching. That only sent me spiraling further down into the depths of my depression.

    “f**k!” I yelled, punching the wall right beside his photo.

    I couldn’t bring myself to punch through his photo, but I had no qualms with shoving my fist through our walls. Soon enough this wouldn’t even be my home. Pain bit at my knuckles, a burning sensation moving across my fingers as I pulled my hand out of the wall. Letting my hand fall limply to my side I chugged the remainder of the liquor within the glass bottle before chucking it across the room.

    It shattered, a thin layer of alcohol splattering across the wall. I blinked blankly at the wall for a moment before turning back to our family photo. Punching through the frame didn’t seem to do enough damage for me. Reaching through the shattered glass I pulled the photo out, taking it into the kitchen with me.

    I dropped the photo into a porcelain platter, searching the drawers for a lighter. Once I found one I returned to the living room, plopping down on the couch and setting the platter before me on the coffee table. With a bloody hand I flicked the lighter to life, drops of blood dripping down onto the photo. I lit the corner of the photo, watching the flames spread with dead eyes. The flame ate away any proof of the happiness that I had once had.

    I will regret this later… The logical side of me whispered grimly, but I paid it no mind.

    I stared at the remaining burning embers of the photo for a few moments before standing. Propelled by the alcohol fueled anger I kicked down onto the coffee table harshly, shattering the platter.

    “Damnit…” I muttered, wiggling my leg that was stuck within the coffee table.

    I fell backwards, landing on the couch with a thud. With a groan I lifted up my other leg, sending another rough kick into the coffee table. The dark brown table flew away from my leg, freeing it of captivity, and slammed against the wall with a bang. A throb of pain came from my right leg, blood trickling down my leg and soaking my black leggings. I could see a piece of wood jutting out of my calf, and my alcohol dazed mind thought a good idea would be to pull it right out.

    More blood spurted from the wound, causing me to let out a strangled cry. Without hesitation I reached over and tore off one of my mother’s curtains and wrapped it tightly around my wound to slow the bleeding. The pain didn’t ebb, but I didn’t care. As long as I wasn’t about to keel over and die I didn’t quite mind.

    With bloodshot eyes I glanced around the room, looking for something else to destroy. Perhaps something else to light on fire. And that’s when I saw him, a teenager standing near the entrance of my living room looking as pale as a ghost. He was about my age, perhaps a year older. His dark black hair was messy, as though he had just rolled out of bed. Large black rimmed glasses framed his brown eyes, a frantic look shooting through them as though he was a deer caught in headlights. He was all skin and bones and only seemed to be a few inches taller than me.

    “The f**k you lookin’ at, beech’? Can’t a girl bleed in peace around here?” I asked, hobbling to a stand.

    A flush passed over his pale cheeks, probably at my choice of words. He nervously played with the ends of his white t-shirt, the strings of his blue pajama pants just out of reach.

    Yet he still didn’t say anything, just stood there like an i***t. “Get the f**k out, ublyudok. Do I look like I wanna’ be entertainin’ guests?”

    He opened and closed his mouth a few times, before finally deciding on what to say. “I have a little brother and sister, and they both have to get up early tomorrow. You making a racket this late at night is a nuisance.”

    I blinked at him slowly for a moment, surprised he had the balls to complain about me to my face. “Do I look like I give two shits about your mladshiy brat or sestra?” I deadpanned.

    His blush deepened, not appreciating my response. “I’m not scared of you! What happened to you doesn’t give you the right to act this way, to cause trouble for those around you!”

    I snorted, taking quite a few threatening steps towards him. “Oh? The f**k do you know, piss ant? All you know is what the news tells you. You aren’t in my shoes, so don’t act as though you know what you would do if you were within my position!”

    He released his shirt, balling up his fists. “I certainly wouldn’t be tossing s**t around like a child! Breaking things and wounding myself! Hell, I certainly wouldn’t have burned up a family photo!”

    “f**k off, d**k! This is my house, my s**t! I can deal with my issues however the f**k I please!” I yelled, reaching for the nearest object to chuck at him.

    A rather large lamp sailed through the air, aimed rather decently too. Would have nailed him right on the head if he hadn’t dodged at the last moment. He sent me an incredulous look of disbelief, as though he couldn’t believe I threw something at him. Without another thought I picked up a book off of the same table and threw it at him.

    For the next few minutes whatever I could get my hands on was chucked at him, with rather outstanding aim despite my drunken state.

    “Stay,” I paused to chuck another book at him, “the f**k,” another pause as I tossed a ceramic sweets jar, “still!”

    “Enough!” He yelled, after having narrowly dodged the candy jar. “Enough!”

    “Enough?” I asked, shooting him a wild look. “Enough! You barge into my home, criticizing me and telling me what to do, and you think that this is enough? I want whatever the f**k you’re taking because, Boy Scout, this is far from f*****g enough!”

    He let out a squeal of surprise as I jumped at him, throwing a sloppy punch. I missed, much to my annoyance, but that didn’t stop me. Throwing a punch to his gut I went ahead and kicked out his legs while he was distracted by the pain. The damn guy dropped like a sack of potatoes, hitting the ground with a thud. He let out a hiss of pain, probably from landing on one of the many shards that scattered the floor of my house.

    Without hesitation I straddled him, backhanding him. Pain jolted through my right hand as I slapped him, an audible crack sounding in the air as his skin split from the force of my slap. A trickle of blood trailed down his cheek as I gripped the collar of his shirt, pulling him up off the ground slightly.

    “Was that enough, Boy Scout?” I asked lowly, the few jabs he had gotten in aching.

    “f**k,” he said, coughing. “Yes, that’s enough. God damn, you hit like a man.”

    Triumph warmed my depressed soul, before the mood suddenly changed and my grin dropped. I felt something underneath me, something that certainly wasn’t there a moment ago.

    “Is that…?” I questioned in disbelief as a heavy blush, once again, filtered across his face.

    “Yes.” He muttered, expecting that to be the end of the conversation. “What do you expect? A pretty girl is straddling me.” He continued after I prompted him with a raised eyebrow.

    I still looked down at him in disbelief, after all I had just been beating the s**t out of him. “What the f**k, are you a masochist or something?”

    His blushed deepened once more, and I thought it wouldn’t be able to. “Of course not!” He refuted immediately.

    I looked down at him through my lashes for a moment, staring into his brown eyes. I always did have a thing for brown eyes… Without any further contemplation I leaned forward, pressing my lips against his as we stared into each other’s eyes. We were both shocked by my actions, but he didn’t really seem to mind the turn of events by how his hands now gripped my hips and how his eyes had fluttered shut.

    I didn’t feel any shocks or sparks, see fireworks behind my eyelids like how Evelyn had described her kisses with Leo. The kiss did give me a vague feeling that I was doing something wrong, like the feeling you get when you sneak a cookie after your mother had just shooed you away claiming that they were cooling. However, it felt nice to be wanted, to be needed by another. It would certainly be an entertaining way to drown my sorrows, other than emptying my parent’s liquor cabinet. With that in mind I let all worries roll off my shoulders as I leaned further into the embrace of a boy whose name I didn’t even know.

    Seems like someone’s getting lucky tonight.