Nothing was funny about this. The laughing and joking all ended when those steel bars
slammed closed right before my bloodshot eyes. We’re ending the night in a concrete box; four
yellow­stained walls that have heard the pleas of worse criminals than us. I keep telling myself
I’m not a criminal, but at this point; I might be.
I shuffled over to Devon, my best friend, noticing he was obsessively staring at his
bloodstained hands. His eyes shot up, those once joy filled eyes, now filled with fear; are
piercing into mine. With lips trembling and with an anxiety stricken voice he speaks, “What did
we do Keith? I can’t remember anything, it’s all such a blur. Did we do something bad?”
Looking down at my cut up hands, I try to figure out an answer for him. With regret, I
don’t believe I have one for him. As of right now, I’m in an amnesia like state. The memories of
the evening we just participated in have seem to skipped my mind. Pulling Devon into my
embrace, I mumbled “Listen whatever happens we need to stick together,” I say as I squeeze him
tighter in my arms, “We can get through this buddy okay?” The tears erupting from my eyes like
a volcano.
Devon releases from my grip, shouting incoherently, “What happened to the others?
Keith where the hell is Jess and Maggie?”
His face changing from ghostly white to an enraged red. His temperament exploding like
a ticking­time bomb. Before I know it, a guard appears outside the cell asking us if everything’s
alright. The sound of jingling keys combines with Devon’s screams of sorrow.
“Calm down kid!” The guard barks. Throwing fists, Devon let out a screech. In an
instant, ripping the beating stick from his belt, the guard swatted the crown of his head. Devon’s
eyes rolled back in his head as he impacted the ground. The guard explained that there’s no
“funny business” as he called it, in the cells. Exiting the enclosure, I am now alone with
unconscious partner in crime. I fell to the grimy dark floor and pulled my dearly hurt friend into
my lap. I leaned my sweaty back up against the wall and pray that tomorrow holds some
answers.
My eyes are closed but I am awake. I don’t want to open them; I don’t want to see the
reality of my situation. I can hear people whispering around me, none of the voices sound
familiar. I begin to open my eyes, the light is so bright that it inevitably blinds me. After my
vision adjusts, I see Devon standing up staring into the empty space.
“Hey buddy” I gulped. He turns to me with disgust in his eyes, “I remember everything,”
His voice was shaky, but also filled with hatred. I was confused by this, why was he angry at
me? We were suppose to be in this together, partners in crime; literally. I patted the floor next to
me, motioning for him to come sit down with me, but he sat down on the bench twenty feet away
from me instead. The mixture of pain and disgruntle that filled his eyes was something I’ve
never witnessed before.
“What do you remember?” I asked him, breaking the silence between us. He looked me
dead in the eyes and fumed, “It’s all your fault. You were the one who wanted to drink. You were
the one who decided we needed more alcohol. You crashed into the goddamn tree because you
were doing 75 in a 30 mph zone! You’re the reason we’re in here!” I felt my heart begin to sink
into my chest, because now I remember. The memories begin to come back to me, one by one.
The discomfort in my chest grows, it feels as if I can’t breath anymore. My lungs shut down,
unable to receive any oxygen anymore. I tumble over with no control, I grab at my chest, trying
to regain my breathing but it doesn’t seem to want to come back. Devon becomes a blur as I stare
at him while the anxiety over­takes my body. Eventually, everything goes black.
I must’ve passed out, because when my eyes opened Devon was gone. I’m not positive
how much time has passed or how long Dev has been gone. Before I could think any longer, a
guard was on the other side of the cell; with keys clackering again he frees me from the cell. But
yet, I don’t feel free.
“Mr. Bolton, come with me” He orders, attaching his arm to mine. We embarked passed
down the cells and around the corner down a never ending grey hallway. Doors lined our
pathway to an unknowing destination. I began to wonder if Devon was here too. We finally come
to halt, D296 the sign on the door reads. The guard leans across me and pushes the door open
and shoves me in the room with great force. When I regained my balance, I notice a lady dressed
in a nice pant­suit with dark chocolaty hair wrapped up in a bun sitting straight up in a chair
shuffling papers around on a desk.
“Good Morning Mr. Bolton, I am Mrs. Smith. I’ve been assigned to your case.” I looked
at her in a puzzled manner as I pulled the seat out from the desk and plopped down in it.
“My case? What do you mean my case?” I stammered. She continues shuffling around
some papers as she takes in a deep breath, “You’re being charged with vehicular manslaughter,
Mr. Bolton. In other words; murder.” Throwing my hands up to cover my face, I realized what a
huge mistake I must’ve made on my adventure last night.
I shot up, slamming my hands down on the desk with all my might, “What do you mean
I’m being charged with murder!” The anger erupting without any sign of stopping, “I didn’t kill
anyone, what are you talking about!”
That feeling in my chest has returned, the anxiety filling up my lungs once again and my
breathing has vanished. Mrs. Smith looked at me with calm eyes and stated, “Please take a seat
and calm down, we’ll figure this out together Mr. Bolton.” I fell into the chair, salty sweat
pouring down from my temple. “Let’s start from the top Keith. Tell me about yesterday.” She
insisted.
I looked down at my hands, pondering about where do I begin. “Devon and some friends
were at my house­­”
She cut me off, “What friends; what are their names?” I brushed the sweat off of my
forehead and continued, “Jessica and Margaret, they’re twins. We’ve all been friends since
elementary school. Since we were about fourteen or fifteen years old, we always had a movie
night on Saturdays. So it was just a typical Saturday night you know, nothing special. The girls
came over­­”
Stopping me again Mrs. Smith requested, “What time did they arrive at your house?” Her
pen hitting the paper at the speed of light; it was highly intimidating knowing every word I spoke
was being recorded right in front of me.
“Uhm, it was after 8:00 pm. because Jess had work that night and Maggie had to pick her
up. So it must’ve been about 8:40 maybe when they got to the house. Devon and I were picking
out movies to watch when they got there.”
Mrs. Smith held her hand up in front of my face, “If you could skip ahead to what lead up
to the incident Mr. Bolton.” She announced as if I had every detail to the “incident” locked away
in a box awaiting to be let out. I took a deep breath and tried to gain my thoughts together,
“Devon and I discussed earlier that we wanted to play a drinking game that night, so we
suggested the idea to the girls. They thought it’d be fun, so we raided my liquor cabinet.”
I was now fidgeting with my flannel, turning every button one by one as if it helped me
with my train of thought. She scribbled down some notes on her pad, “Now, you all are of legal
age, is that correct?” Finally a question I knew was 100% correct and that I could answer with no
hesitation.
“Yes we’re all 21, Devon is 22 already.” I’ve been talking about Devon this whole time
without questioning where he is. I belted out over her next question, “Where’s Devon? Is he
okay?” My leg shaking profusely.
“Devon is being questioned as we speak. Let’s get back to your night. What happened
next.” She was getting straight to the point, so I decided to give her an over­view instead of a
detail by detail description.
“We put on the movie and began drinking around 10:30 I think. By 1:00 am we were out
of alcohol and we wanted to continue drinking. Jess knew of this 24 hour liquor store that just
opened only five blocks from my place­­”
I was talking so fast she stopped me. She stated, “slow down, slow down. Continue”
This is where my memory is foggy. I covered my noticeably nervous face with my hands.
I tried piecing together what I could for Mrs. Smith, who was cross­armed waiting for me to
continue. She probably thinks I’m some apathetic d*****bag who doesn’t care about what I
possibly did.
“Listen Mr. Bolton, if you don’t want to discuss this right now; we don’t need to
continue. Although, we need you to write a written statement of the event from your point of
view,” She pulled out a manila folder, handed me a packet of papers, and a sharpened pencil,
“Take all the time you need. I’ll be back later to come get you.” Without another word, she
exited the room. I am now all alone with my thoughts and this menacing piece of white paper;
which could possibly determine my future for me.
I’m unsure of how long I’ve been writing for; maybe an hour and half. Five pages later
and a stinging hand; I finally finished my statement. If there was anything I could be certain of in
this moment, it’s that I am guilty. I decided to not only put myself in danger but my three best
friends, by driving drunk. I didn’t even believe I was drunk, I thought I was fine. I only had a
few beers and a shot or two, I thought a five mile drive was perfectly reasonable. I remember
every detail as if it’s clear as day now.
We got into my tiny red Chevy; Devon in the passenger seat, the twins sat in the back.
They were giggling away and laughing at how they’re beating us “macho men” in the game.
Then it all happened in a flash. Devon was right I was doing well over the speed limit; probably
about 40 miles over the speed limit. I remember weaving in and out of the curves that the road
possessed; we all were laughing cause life in that moment felt like nothing could touch us;
nothing could hurt us. Then it happened; the car veered off the path that the road lead us to and
the car began spinning like merry­go­round on steroids. Before any of us could react, the back of
the car slammed into the big oak trees that lined the road.
After that I don’t remember anything but waking up in the jail cell. The screams of my
dear friends, the sound of glass shattering and metal bending to a shape it should never be; it all
is still ringing in my ears. It’s inevitable at this point; I know I am guilty.
An older, white haired guard I didn’t recognize barged into the room, demanding the
finished statement I wrote. I couldn’t contain the thousand questions I had anymore, I asked “Sir,
what’s going to happen to me?” The stern look faded from his expression, replaced it was a look
of sorrow.
“I’m not sure kid. You’ve committed a handful of crimes. Driving while intoxicated,
endangerment of others, and vehicular manslaughter. It’s gonna be tough to get out of those.” He
put his hand on my shoulder, gave it a little squeeze and left the room.
I was more alone than ever. I couldn’t handle this anymore, I collapsed on the table and
filled the silence that surrounded me with the sounds of my sorrow. I screamed till my lungs felt
like they could exert no more energy. The tears streamed down my face, finally letting out all of
the pain I’ve been holding in. My screaming began to die out when I felt my chest start to cave
in. The words “vehicular manslaughter” are flying around my head. I fling my head up as I come
to the realization of what those words mean; I killed Jess and Margaret. I’ve killed my two best
friends, because of a foolish decision I had to make. I couldn’t take it anymore, these four walls
have started mocking me; I needed to get out of here.
I race down the hallway in the direction that I ascended from just a mere four hours ago. I
make a sharp left, slamming into somebody so aggressively that I flew backward. When I
regained my balance I noticed it was Devon.
“DEVON” I hollered at the top of my lungs, while pulling him into my arms. He didn’t
say a word as he fell into my embrace.
“We need to talk,” He muttered, “Now.” We walked down the hallway to the benches set
in front of the front desk and discussed what we’ve been going through since we were separated.
About an hour or so has passed, Devon and I talked about every little detail of the
previous night and what we needed to say when it came up in our court case; whenever that may
be. We heard footsteps approaching our vicinity, so we became alert of what could happen next.
Turning the corner we saw the twins father; the look that he had on his faces was a look I never
want to see again. His hatred filled eyes illuminated the room with a dark and unwelcoming vibe.
“Mr.­­” Before I get out the rest of my greeting, I noticed a shiny and metal­like object
piering out of his jacket. The man I’ve known as a father­figure for most of my life had a gun
sticking out of his jacket, hand locked and ready to go on it. Tears streaming down the face of
father who just lost his two little princesses. My eyes widen, my heart races a mile a minute.
Devon grabs my arm and pulls me in the opposite direction of the man and belts out, “Run!” We
spun around, but it was too late. BANG. BANG. BANG.
A sharp sting takes over my body as I plummet to the floor; my head hitting the floor
with excessive force. Devon falls beside me, the blood pouring out of his left shoulder. I felt a
calmness take over the stinging of where I’ve been shot by the one man who I never expected
this from. My body goes weak, I can see the dark­red liquid creep out of my wounds, slow at
first than like a flowing river. I reach for Devon’s hand; if I’m going to die than I want to at least
die holding the hand of someone I loved. He took his hand in mine, both of us sobbing. The
room begins to grow dark, my hearing has disappeared, my body has gone numb. A peacefulness
has overtaken my body. The father has now received his revenge