Evan Farrington's Confession | ✔️

the end of everything

Paul McGee took a long drink from his travel mug. The coffee was stale and burned but it would take more than an unpleasant temperature and vaguely acrid taste to stop him from drinking it. The air was warm and humid yet somehow dry at the same time. A sheen of sweat glistened on Paul's forehead.

"McGee! Get over here!" one of the other guards yelled. Paul trudged over towards where the guard was standing, near the plastic doors to the cafeteria. Paul's boots kicked up the fine, gravelly dust coating the entire juvie.

"Everett," Paul said. His age was ever-present in his voice. Sixty-three, almost sixty-four. "What's the problem?"

Johnny Everett was young and overenthusiastic. Paul couldn't remember ever being like him. Maybe when he first started working at Washington Juvenile Correction but he doubted it. The name had never made sense to Paul. He could list at least half a dozen other juvies in Washington, all with far better budgets than the one named after the state.

"Inmates making a racket," Everett said. Paul almost expected the accusation to be followed by a pompous 'sir!'. Everett's posture was rigid and something about it sent Paul's blood to a simmer. For one, he could hear no racket, just orange-clad teenage boys enjoying their lunch break in the sun. Spring was in full swing and had been officially since the beginning of May, but this was the first truly nice day since early last September.

"How about letting them relax, huh?" Paul said. He allowed a generous amount of lethargy into his voice.

Everett coughed. "Excuse my saying, McGee, but they are being loud and," Everett paused to think of the right word, "unruly. This isn't camp. Relaxation's not the top priority."

Paul's eyebrow twitched, involuntarily. "Which kids?" he asked. A quick glance around the yard didn't answer his question. By and large, the boys were sitting quietly at the tables, half empty lunch trays in front of them. The chatter was light and cheerful. Paul thought they had the sun to thank for that. Earth's oldest remedy. That and sea air.

Everett drew himself up tall. "That's not all."

Paul raised an eyebrow in expectation.

"Over by the doors," Everett said, glancing at the kids in question out of the corner of a beady eye. "Loitering." This last word was enunciated so fiercely he might as well have spat.

Paul swallowed and followed his colleague's gaze. There was a single boy standing there, about seventeen by the looks. He had a mop of mousey curls, long overdue for a trim and was staring at the chalky concrete as if hoping a hole might open up that he could jump into. If Paul had ever seen a 'loiterer' this boy was not one. He was standing so awkwardly Paul wasn't even sure if his posture could be described as standing. He cowered against the wall, knees bent to accommodate the too-short legs of his jumpsuit. Paul made a point of knowing the names of all the kids but this boy brought none to mind. He must be new. New and too scared to find a group to hang about with.

"Everett-" Paul began, feeling much too old for this. He shut his eyes and massaged his temples.

"He's making a break for it!" yelled Everett. Paul's eyes snapped open to see the boy sprinting full-out towards the fence. Everett took out his gun, cocking it with a weighted click. The rest of the boys gaped from their seats, some with forks frozen in mid-air. Paul stood still, Everett's voice ringing in his ears.

Everett began to run after the boy, closing the gap between them easily. "McGee! What the hell are you doing?" he shouted over his shoulder.

Paul remained frozen, his travel mug halfway to his mouth. The boy was nearing the fence. His body crashed against the metal mesh and he started to climb. Paul knew it was well-nigh impossible to scale that fence but the boy was making a decent job. Paul's mug fell to the ground. The lid popped off and spilled coffee on the dust, turning it back into the mud that had confined them to the concrete all winter. He jogged in the direction of Everett who was standing several feet away from the fence, watching the boy's attempt with crude amusement in his face. Paul paused for breath a little way away from Everett.

Everett who was gripping his gun with both hands.

Who had brought his arms to a right angle with his body.

Who had closed one eye to squint at the boy, steadying his grip as he focused his gaze.

"Everett, no!" Paul cried.

A shot rang out, shaking the half-eaten lunches. The boy tumbled to the floor with a muffled thump. His body disturbed a cloud of yellow dust. It hung in the air like fog. Paul didn't move. Nothing was moving. The world had frozen still. 

Then there was a scream. It twinged something deep inside Paul's head and his chest. A girl's scream. That couldn't be right. But it was. There had been a girl standing a fair distance from the fence, the only living creature in sight outside of the boundary. But she wasn't standing anymore. She was kneeling in the dusty ground, blonde hair falling like a curtain in front of her face. And she was screaming like the world had ended.

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Thanks for reading this first part! If you liked it, I'd really appreciate a wee vote or comment!

Love always, 

-pinknaails

xx