Chapter sixty two
Combine the pain of his betrayal, my near death and my most recent failure into one big ball of rage where he would be the victim.
We were surrounded now as the noise broke out. Deep tenors cheered all over and urged me to finish what I'd begun. I could vividly relate this to the chant of name from the audience while in the boxing ring. It uses to fuel me back then, block every form of thinking and made me just want to feed the crowd what they wanted.
Once again, I felt that way again…
Jayden's eyes bore into mine almost pleadingly although he made no effort to rise.
"I'm sorry, Jeffery," he yelled between deep breaths.
As though the apology was going to stop me from pulling the trigger if I had a gun. Everything was coming back in; my childhood, my mother, the deaths I'd caused. I was not sure why but they seemed to cooperate now and paint the image of pain and guilt in my head all over again. I was in here because I was a murderer, to begin with.
When everything felt too heavy to hold in, I yelled out at Jayden, a sudden shriek that made him flinch. Tears built up in my eyes. As soon as I noticed that, I spun around and walked out, even though I had to shove a few prisoners away in doing so.
All the while though, Dylan had never moved from the spot.
***
"Don't judge me," my hands thrown in the air, I begged for a say. "I know I overreacted."
"Nah, he deserved it," came Simon shockingly.
"You should have just beaten the crap out of the dude if you ask me," Noah said with a shrug.
Well, at least they supported me. I was cool with it. Until…
"The hot temper is in the blood." Emily stared as she flung her arms across Noah's shoulders. Award for the couple of the year. They were engaged, by the way. But, I'd met her first, hadn't I? Anyways, all my brother did was scoff and glance away.
Alan had patiently been waiting for our goofing around to end. With a solid stare, he was was watching us laugh away the sorrowful story.
His change of heart had come as a shock to me back in prison. From the grumpy and arrogant inmate to the quiet, reasoning man who owned a rehabilitation center. I guess that was what they meant when people said someone had been washed clean.
It still seemed impossible this man almost killed me once.
"Are y'all done?" He finally spat the question rather calmly, uncomfortable eyes scrutinizing us through.
As we grinned our affirmation, he sighed and leaned out. "How did you shake up Dylan Joe in the end. I'm curious to know."
"We'll be skipping a whole lot of I jump to that," I admitted. The entire story was drawing to a dramatic ending that I was looking forward to. However, I couldn't skip the important leads to it. "Your repentance and my attempt at suicide came way before that."
"You tried to kill yourself, Jeffery?" Mrs Harper's wrinkled hand gripped my arm as she glanced up with sad eyes.
The surprise was evident in many other faces present. Yeah, I'd seen that coming.
***
After the fallout with Jayden and the failed attempt at discovering my father, life to me became like a void of vain hope and meaningless struggle.
What was I even supposed to spend the rest of my life in there doing?
For the first time, I wished my roommate would just leave his fantasy zone and start up a conversation! I was running low on patience and hope was what I sought for, something even Joey's book strangely wasn't granting.
The boring routines crawled into days and days into weeks.
Breakfast alone on a table while everyone else chattered and strolled in clusters; labour and cleaning when my set was in charge. How could I forget recreation day? With literally no one to speak to, I'd spend my two hours drawing figures on concrete with a stick underneath the deadly sun rays.
And most significantly, I was sinking deeper into a tiny hole called depression. Well, life went on.
Until after an entire year in jail, I just could not take it anymore.
***
Alf, my roommate, was out with his sect on this weekend's labour. Alone within the dark and confined space of the room, I gripped the bars of the door and leaned my head upon it.
Thinking. Pondering. Regretting.
Now and then, I'd tap my forehead on the bars and study the empty corridor with no single police guard. I was grateful, I did not know why.
An idle mind was the devil's workshop, they used to say.
However, I didn't exactly care at that moment to restrict whatever thoughts played with my head. Infact, I let them all in; good, bad, unsightly.
My entirely life was presently a dreadful joke. I could not even see Noah anywhere when I needed him! Staring back at my childhood amidst the joy and the sorrow, I'd have never guessed this was where I'd be.
Once again, I noted the empty quiet corridors that held no single soul, the gush of wind that could be heard in the silence.
I'd murdered four people, most of which were almost innocent and had just wanted to live the best that life had to offer. I'd stripped that peace from them; and now, I was paying for it. Flashes of the car explosion and Jake's drilled body filled my mind, just before Lizzie's headshot and Willie's pale body did. What less did I deserve than death?
Beautiful children rendered orphans because of me. Noah's mind could not be at peace because of me. And now, even I couldn't sleep.
I was losing my mind pretty quick.
The image of me tied up to an electrocuted chair came to mind. Or me hanging by my neck from a rope. Or maybe just borrowing a guard's gun and blasting my brains open. I deserved it!
"You're not the Jeffery I used to know!"
Noah's words played over and over again; words truer than ever.
For the last two months, I'd literally had no real conversation with anyone. My heart was shutting.
With one final tap, I laid my head on the bars again, my roughened hair blinding my view. That was it!
Abruptly, I spun around and strode towards the bunk beds, reminding myself I had to be quick, yet silent.
A yank was all I needed to pull the single plain sheet off my bed and towards myself. For the next few seconds, I tried to squeeze and straighten it out into a thick rope.
Pausing though, I glanced at the stool that stood beside the dead table lamp. That would do.