#JUSTICE

When Jerome decides to confine his feelings to his lover, before he can get the words out, something tragic happens to him. Trying to deal with his loss, he finds it hard to communicate his coming out

Here sat a fairly dark African American male. His vane facial structure stood defiant, there was no mistaking he was young, about his teenage years. Voice deep stricken, there he sat with puffy under-eye bags that carried such sorrow. Facing his window which had shown such gloomy night, a sort of flashbacks had gone through his brain. A crowded high school with just 15 minutes until the bell struck and echoed with agony. There was Jerome, clutching onto his jean jacket as he stood by his locker nervously. Students passed by and chatter had begun to clear. Starting to give up hope as it turned false, he turned around with such sadness, and was just about to touch the door knob when he heard his name echo from the end of the wing. All thoughts were interrupted as the AC jolted on. Looking around, he panned up to the picture that hung on the wall. A picture of his parents during their wedding, as smiles stretched far and wide across their faces.

In a parallel reality, there sat a Caucasian male at the table that stood weakly in the middle of the poor conditioned kitchen. You could hear the mice scatter through the walls, the creaking of the light centered on the ceiling as it swayed back and forth. With his hands crossed beneath the table, his eyes became the window of his soul, and with a closer look you could begin to paint a story of guilt. Every morning, their friend group stood by the boy’s bathroom, right in between the two water fountains that separated them from the girl’s bathroom. It was getting late, and he wanted to move. He couldn’t help but notice Jerome from his point of view. He had not one clue he was staring.

“Vinnie? Vi-“They were all cut off when they realized what had taken him at shock. “Staring at those freaks? Let’s get em’.”The group ran off to Jerome and Aden. It seemed like Jerome was beginning to talk when the boys grabbed Aden and slammed him on the floor. One boy held Jerome against the locker as the rest kicked and punched at Aden defenseless on the hall floors. What seemed like forever ended pretty quickly as the bell screamed, leaving the group dashing towards class. Jerome crashed down, holding Aden lifeless and bloody.

A tear ran down Jerome’s face as he sat up in bed. He can still remember the rush of warmth as the faucets in his eyes rained down on Aden’s dead body. Ever since then, he had not talked, and he was not planning to. He was mute. How do you explain coming out to the guy you like just to see him on the floor dead? Thoughts scattered, he went down under his sea of bulk bed sheets as a thump echoed from his parent’s room.

His mother sat on the edge of the bed, as her husband had struck a vase in anger. It crashed from the wrecking ball and shattered all over the carpet floor. Tears swallowing her pride and confidence, she choked to speak. Some words slightly slipped out, and she regretted it.

“You’re overreacting. This is our son. You’re going to have to accept him” she said trembling. A blanket of fear covered over her.

“I’m overreacting? My son is a f****t. I am nothing but embarrassed. What will the neighborhood think, huh? What will they think when they find out my son is gay!”

“The neighborhood doesn’t have to know, Devon” her voice began to rise. Her feet guided her up, and she set her posture straight. “They shouldn’t have to know. Maybe if you didn’t open your mouth to your bros all the time we wouldn’t have to worry about this! Maybe if you had stayed out of trouble like I had asked years ago-“

Her husband lifted up his hand as if he were to strike her across her wet face. She shook, and backed down in even more fear than before. Here was the man she loved, the man she married, who had unfortunately turned into a thug. A monster he was. He turned around, and dashed toward the kitchen. He grabbed a knife from above the fridge and busted into his son’s room.

In utter disbelief, Jerome reacted quickly. He grabbed his father’s wrist and twisted it to his right, missing his heart. His bones cracked like a set of keys slapping into each other, and he screamed in agony as he fell to the floor. Getting out of bed, he slipped on his slippers, and made his way out of the room. His mother had just made it halfway through the hall when she saw him. She cried and begged for him to stay. Jerome felt he couldn’t live his life in fear, and in hell. He opened the screen door, and started running.

 

 

 

 

Jerome had to assume he was running for a few blocks by now, as he was sweating- or so he thought. Tears, God. Was he even allowed to believe in one? What god would punish someone like this? He was just arriving now upon Rogers Bodega as he sat on the concrete step. The white lights underneath the yellow banner flickered over head. He could hear one of Roger’s workers whistling as he mopped the floors. Thanks to Aden, he knew him well, and was able to go to him if he needed anything. Wiping his tears with his forearm, he turned around and faced the worker.

“Excuse me?”

“Sorry, it’s late we don’t take customers” he said as he went back to whistling. In shock, Jerome hesitated, inhaled, and tried again. Before he could even get the words out, the worker had struck back.

“Look man, I said it’s late alright? I don’t want any trouble.” Aggravated, he groped the mop and forcefully mopped. Great. Just when he needed someone the most, they couldn’t be there to provide for him. He got up, brushed off his shoulders, and began to walk across the block. Grabbing on to a few gates, he kept his pace. An old man, maybe in his 60s, dressed down in rags held a brown bag with what appeared to be a bottle. He was drunk. All he hoped was that he would leave him alone. He didn’t. He spoke of slurred speech, and smelled very bad. The space between them had begun to get tighter, when he decided to push past him. Just when he was about to continue, a spotlight flashed directly in his face. There was a police officer, holding his flashlight front in his face. He was a Caucasian male, bulk, in his 20s. Turning around to chase after the old man, he had hid in between the alley way. The cop cursed under his breath, and walked towards Jerome.

Jerome knew what was happening on the news. He can hear the voice of his mother. They had had the talk. The officer put his hand at his hip, and drew his gun. Pointing it at him, shaking, he began to shout.

“Get on the floor, now!”

Jerome panicked and stood frozen.

“I said, floor, NOW! D****t or, I will shoot!”

He quickly fell to the floor. The cop grabbed his device that lay in the pocket on his chest and released out a series of numbers.

“I need backup.”

His partner noticed what was going on and hopped out of the vehicle. An African American male about the same age as his partner intensely examined the situation. He walked up slowly and turned around in front of his friend.

“CO9. You don’t need to do this. Put the gun down and no one gets hurt.”

This didn’t help. He started to shake the gun more than before.

“CO9, CO-“

All Jerome could remember was hearing a loud pop. His ears began to ring, and a flash emerged from the gun. Was I shot? I didn’t feel anything though. It wasn’t until he turned to his left. Eyes bulged out, his partner, the one who was sticking up for him; fell down to the floor along with him, holding his heart, blood gushing out onto the concrete.

“GAH. YOU! Get up NOW!”

Jerome got up. All that could run through his head is how the public would react? Was he disobeying the officer? That’s probably why. He deserved it. All the while, his hands were cuffed behind his back. Stuffed in the back of the car, backup had arrived. He sat there uncomfortable, and decided to listen to the outdoors. One cop in front of his partner’s body called for an ambulance. One sat on the door of the car and was just shocked. CO9? He was explaining to the cop what had happened. He couldn’t hear much, but judging by his peers reactions, it was not good. Two officers hopped into the vehicle and rushed off. In stress over the situation, he passed out.

 

 

 

 

 

The gray room had a large echo to it. The spotlight had dimmed above his head and caused him to sweat. Hands freed, he held them on the table. They were going to question him, and had contacted his parents in the wake of the event. He couldn’t bear to see them in such a condition. Silence filled the room, except for the two flies that buzzed in the corner with the cobwebs. The door creaked open as it dragged and scraped against the floor. There were his parents. His mother immediately cusped his hands and repeatedly asked if he was okay.

“I’m fine, mom.”

His father dragged the chair in front of him. Sitting down, he looked at the table, near crying, and swallowed hard. He looked up, and stared at his son in his eye. He was going to touch him until Jerome jerked back.

“Look son, I know I was hard on you. I feel so stupid.”

“I want you to know, that we have to work on that, obviously… I just think, in times like these- there is zero time for bickering and trouble. Right now we need closure, and we need to stick together. I know you didn’t do it.”

Do it? They think I killed him? Quiet anger spread over Jerome. He was being blamed for a crime. All in his thoughts, everything was a blur. He didn’t hear the rest of his father’s speech- until he looked up.

“Son, please. No matter how much you may not trust me, I- we, have your back. We’ll get you out of this.”

As much as Jerome knew it wasn’t right for him to trust him after what he did, hell he was lucky he didn’t turn him in. Looking at both his mother and father, he stared straight into his father’s eyes, leaned close, so close you could feel his breath.

“I trust you, dad.”

This family that was once broken sat together in unison at the table. The lawyer walked in and everything was going to begin. They had no idea what was ahead for them, but they all knew they had to be strong. Strong enough if they wanted what was all on their minds, justice.