Total pages in book: 58
Estimated words: 59287 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 296(@200wpm)___ 237(@250wpm)___ 198(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 59287 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 296(@200wpm)___ 237(@250wpm)___ 198(@300wpm)
After what felt like forever, the traffic to my right was moving again and I remembered that I was supposed to be in the car with Nico’s parents.
Before I could bang on the window to get an officer’s attention, I saw Nico’s mom standing on the side of the road.
She was sobbing uncontrollably in her husband’s arms, and her husband was looking at me with teary eyes.
I knew what that look meant, but I refused to believe it.
Not until someone told me.
Not until I saw my parents for myself.
Suddenly, my door swung open, and a police officer reached for my hand.
I couldn’t take it, though.
I was now holding Little Ryan, and he cried every time I tried to place him into his car seat.
“Well, son…” The officer ran a hand through his hair. “There’s no easy way for me to say this, but your parents were killed tonight in an accident.”
I blinked.
“That little guy’s parents were airlifted to a hospital, but…” He looked down. “They’re not expected to survive either.”
“My mother is the safest driver I know…” I refused to believe it. “She doesn’t get in accidents.”
“From what we’re seeing, this wasn’t her fault, son.”
“So, who the fuck did this?”
He didn’t answer that.
“Do you have some other family members in Ithaca that we can call?” he asked. “It’s policy that we have to make sure you’re with your next of kin. Aunts and uncles, perhaps?”
“Both my parents were only children…” I felt something rising up my throat and handed Little Ryan to him.
“What about grandparents?”
“No,” I said. “It’s just been the three of us my whole life.” I vomited on the road and fell to my knees.
The next thing I knew everything went black.
NOT GUILTY (N.):
PLEA OF A PERSON WHO CLAIMS NOT TO HAVE COMMITTED THE CRIME OF WHICH HE/SHE IS ACCUSED, MADE IN COURT WHEN ARRAIGNED (FIRST BROUGHT BEFORE A JUDGE) OR AT A LATER TIME SET BY THE COURT.
LIAM
Ithaca, New York
Thirteen Years Old
The next time I opened my eyes, I was lying on a hospital bed in a bright white room.
There was a man in a suit sitting next to me.
“What’s going on?” My throat hurt.
“Well, you’ve been out for quite some time, little fella.” The man smiled. “That’s typical for trauma at your age.”
“Can you call my dad, please?” I asked. “Actually, make it my mom. She’ll yell less.”
“Liam…” He grabbed my hand. “Liam, your parents are deceased.”
“They were in my dream, I know,” I said. “But—”
“They are deceased, Liam.” He looked into my eyes, his voice firm but kind. “You’ve been checked into a post-traumatic stress unit for two weeks.”
I shook my head. “No. That’s not true.”
“The friends and neighbors have held off on the funeral until you’re better.”
“They didn’t die.” Tears fell down my face. “It was a nightmare. Stop talking, please…”
“I’m here to walk you through some legal proceedings regarding foster care and to let you know about the potential criminal charges.” He wiped my face with a handkerchief. “Okay?”
“No.” I yanked away from him. “Fuck you.”
“Nurse!”
Before I could jump out of the bed, a male in scrubs pinned me down and stuck a needle in my arm.
I instantly felt warm and calm, but my mind was still racing.
Minutes later, the suit pressed his hand against mine.
“Your parents, and the two other victims, were hit by a drunk driver,” he said. “Well, an alleged drunk driver.”
“Who?”
“A man from Manhattan named Trevor Jenkins.”
“Did he do it on purpose?”
“Drunk drivers never do…” He shot me a look of sympathy. “But…I have to be honest with you. He may not see any jail time because of this, but he feels awful about what he’s done.”
Accident. Deceased. Drunk driver. Trevor Jenkins.
I tried to file everything in my mind in order.
“Drunk diving is a crime?” I asked, feeling woozy. “My dad dives into the lake with a beer all the time.”
“Drunk driving, Liam,” he said. “Getting on the road drunk.”
“Oh, right.” I knew that. “Well, he has to go to jail for killing my parents, right?”
“Mr. Jenkins’ lawyers—Well, it’s…” He sighed. “It’s complicated.”
“I’m pretty fucking smart whenever I’m not being shot up with whatever this stuff is or being emotional.” I looked at him. “Talk to me like I’m eighteen instead of thirteen.”
“Mr. Jenkins has some of the best lawyers in the world, and the police have already admitted to making several mistakes at the scene.” He paused. “The blood alcohol tests, the delayed Miranda rights reading, the—”
“So, because he’s rich, he gets away with it?”
“He might get away with it.”
“How do I make sure that doesn’t happen?”
“You can retain me as your lawyer.”
“I don’t have any money.”
“Mr. Jenkins has generously offered to pay off your family’s home mortgage and set up a college fund for you and the other victims’ surviving son,” he said. “He would hate for you to have to suffer in foster care, and he’s also willing to pay for your attorney and—”