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“Gone(.grav3sVersion)”—Red
My junior year was the year of Lucian’s trial.
“Lucian, I begged my dad to help, but he said he couldn’t because of his position. As it is, he couldn’t or wouldn’t prosecute the case because of your close connection with our family. I guess the assistant DA and Dad don’t get along really well. Dad is afraid he’s gunning for you because he knows Dad likes you.” I held Lucian’s hand as we rested in the grass much as we did when we were little.
He sighed as he stared up at the stars.
“I’m sure he knows your dad paid my bail,” Lucian murmured.
It went without saying that it didn’t help that we lived in a small community and everyone knew everyone. Lucian might’ve been the town football hero, but he wasn’t from the “right crowd.”
“You have a bright future. It was an accident, Lucian. The judge is going to see that,” I said as I squeezed his hand and curled into his side.
I was wrong.
Lucian was charged with vehicular manslaughter, and the prosecutor pushed the fact that he was drinking underage. It was an absolute shitshow of a trial. It dragged on and on—painfully so. All because Kip had a rich daddy and Lucian was from the wrong side of the tracks.
Lucian had a public defender, and the guy was a douche.
“Lucian, you have too much against you. The Harpers have a lot of money and influence. They’re pushing for the max punishment. If you’re willing to take a deal, I think I can get you five years—out in less, if you’re lucky,” the dumbass said.
“That’s ridiculous,” my father barked. “We can fight this. They are blowing everything out of proportion on this. Anyone can see that. Lucian is a good kid. No history of trouble. Football scholarship. He has a future. Any deal they’d be willing to toss his way since the trial already started would be absolute dog shit.”
“There’s a real chance they could throw the book at him too,” Ralph Rutherford III argued. A douchey name for a big, fat douche. I hated him and I wished Lucian would’ve let us help hire an attorney, but he was embarrassed that my dad had already paid his bail.
When I saw the defeat in Lucian’s eyes, I knew he was giving up.
“Don’t do this, Lucian,” I begged. He dropped his gaze to his clasped hands, and I wanted to scream.
The rest was a blur.
The day of his sentencing, he tried to convince me not to go. Maybe it would’ve been better if I hadn’t. When they read the results of his ridiculous plea bargain, I burst into tears and leaned over the rail to hug him, but was pulled away when the bailiff stepped in. The judge demanded attention, and his words were nothing but a droning buzz.
Lucian cast one last glance my way before he swallowed hard and dropped his gaze. As they led him away, he wouldn’t make eye contact, and I knew in my heart he was shutting down.
“Dad,” I cried into my father’s chest as he and my mom held me. The tension in his body bespoke his anger. My parents loved Lucian. Now he was being taken away from us.
He went to prison with a five-year sentence.
I immediately wrote to him. His first letter to me was like razor blades to my soul.
The day I got that letter, I thought someone had shot the sun from the sky. In the words that blurred as I tried to read, he told me he didn’t want to hear from me again, and my heart shattered. Sure, he sugarcoated his request with bullshit like he didn’t want me wasting my life waiting, and I deserved better. Blah, blah, blah.
I didn’t listen. I wrote. Letter after letter. They all came back. He refused them. If my heart hadn’t been obliterated before, it certainly was after that.
At first I wanted to crumple to the floor and wallow in the loss of the boy who I’d foolishly thought would be my forever. Then I picked myself up and stitched my heart back together. The problem with mending a broken heart is it’s never the same after that. None of the pieces fit properly anymore.
“Hey, you going to Kevin’s party this weekend?” my friend Noelle asked as I swapped out books from my locker then zipped my backpack up. I closed the door with a clang to see her leaning against the locker next to mine, holding her books to her chest. Her red hair was pulled up in a high, bouncy ponytail, and her green eyes sparkled at the thought of the pending weekend.
I shrugged. “I’m not sure yet,” I said as I gave her a smile that barely lifted the corners of my mouth. After slinging my backpack over my shoulder, I twisted my hair up and shoved a pen through it.
Her shoulders fell. “Lila, you need to let it go. He’s gone. He made it very clear he wants you to live your life. Are you going to wait five years to see ifmaybehe will talk to you when he gets out of prison?”
Though she spoke the truth, it hurt. I couldn’t believe it had been nearly a year since Lucian had gone to prison. I was getting ready to graduate. He was supposed to be there for my ceremony. Then I’d go to Clemson so we could be together. That’s how things were supposed to go. Now they never would.
I knew everyone was looking forward to the party. Everyone but me, that was. Summer’s heat was already in full humid effect, and everyone was restless to be done with high school. It would be our last summer together before we all went our separate ways in life.
“That’s not fair,” I said, fighting off the burning in my eyes and the hollow feeling in my chest.
