The guard came, knocking his baton on the boy's cell door to wake him, "Irwin," the large man spoke in a deep, rough voice, yet it was kind, soft spoken too, "time to get up, you have a visitor."
Ashton sat up, rubbing the hazy look of sleep out of his eyes along with the unchanging memories. Stained into his mind like red wine on white carpet, "Who is it..?"
"Sierra's brother..." the guard replied smiling sympathetically, he was one of the few that believed Ashton, one of the few that believed the truth. What did Damien even want? Did he even believe him? Ashton brushed off these questions and stood without a word, smoothing his shaggy hair down as best as he could.
Once he got to the door the guard opened it and smiled sadly, cuffing the curly headed boy, "Sorry Ash, I know you don't need this.... You wouldn't hurt anyone."
Ashton sighed, "Nothing you can do about it."
*****
All that was separating the two young men was a table and a sheet of bullet proof glass. Damien looked Ashton straight in the eye, not a look of hatred or sadness, it was a look of understanding. Slowly the boy with the buzz cut hairdo picked up the phone, signalling Ashton to do so as well.
"Hey Ash..." the military man's voice broke.... He was still mourning, the whole family was.
"Damien I-" before he could get a full sentence out Damien inturupted.
"Dont-Dont say you're sorry..... I understand why you did it.... Completely. I've experienced seeing someone I've learned to love die before me, and I've killed in self-defense..... It's part of war. I'm not mad at you," he paused, "I can't be, no matter what people say.... You loved my baby sister, and made her the happiest I'd seen her in years." both boys were tearing up at this point.
Sierra was watching, watching as her elder brother spilt his heart out reminding Ashton of all the good things. All the times Damien would come home and hear her babbling on and on about the awkward, loud, shaggy haired boy in her choir class. And her heart, the one that'd been crushed and discarded as easily as a flower, she realized, would always be held by that awkward, loud, shaggy haired boy she met it her choir class.
