The Hard Way

After The Storm

The silence in the room seemed to echo. Reverberating, like ripples across a pond after the stone has been thrown. But there was no retrieving this stone. And it was covered in blood. Everywhere. He was covered in blood. The walls, the breakfast bar, even the tiles in the kitchen.

He couldn't believe how much it looked like a paintball explosion. The shock ran so deep reality was distorted; involuntarily he shook, waited for her to get up, then went back to shaking. He turned, then turned back, afraid to move. This wasn't his fault! Would they understand that? Would they be able to tell? Should he leave the apartment? No, he needed to stay right where he was at, call them from here, wait for them to get here.

He needed to wash his hands... No! Wait, that would look bad. Damn! He was shaking so bad now. Blood smeared across the screen as he pulled his phone from his pocket. It took him several tries to unlock the phone with a swipe, and several more times to dial 911.

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"Right now he's saying he didn't do it, and we're leaning towards believing that," said Lieutenant Tomlin.

Martin leaned in, thankful to hear it. Next to him was Mark's mother; his father on the other side of her. She held both of their hands. They sat together in an office at the police station, waiting to hear what had transpired between the teens. 

Lieutenant Tomlin continued.

"From what we gathered, Jolene brought the gun home with her. We don't know if she was planning on just scaring Mark or actually using it, but at some point, she had it out with the safety off, and our lab confirms it was her finger on the trigger. Except for a partial from Mark, all the prints on the gun belong to Jolene. Mark says when she pointed the gun at him, he tried to wrest it away from her. All preliminary evidence backs this up. We don't think the boy ever had any intent of hurting her. This was just a horrible, horrible accident."

He turned towards Jolene's grandfather. "Martin, is it?" Martin nodded. "Martin, Mark mentioned several things that lead us to believe there was abuse occurring in the relationship, perpetrated by the victim, your granddaughter Jolene. Was there ever any evidence of this, as far as you knew?"

Martin placed his hand across his eyes and burst into tears while nodding. The shame of it was too heavy.

"I tried... I tried to..." Martin took a deep breath in and shuddered as he exhaled.

"I began to suspect it a few weeks back, I could see the occasional bruise or whatever on Mark. But it was the look in his eyes, I could see the hurt, and that's when I knew. I spoke to her about it, I tried... I tried... What could I have done?" He turned to Mark's parents. "I'm so sorry. I didn't know what to do. I tried talking to her. Even this morning, I told her... I didn't know what else to do."

Lieutenant Tomlin shifted. "Unfortunately, with Jolene being nineteen, she was legally an adult. There was nothing you could do. Am I correct in believing you do not blame the boy - uh -Mark, for this tragedy?"

"Blame him? How could I? It's not his fault. Ooh, that poor boy. I can't imagine what he's going through..."

Lieutenant Tomlin nodded. "I think he needs to hear that from you." He looks to Mark's parents. "We're going to turn him over to you now. The most important thing he needs right now is rest and plenty of space. I know all of you have questions, but it's best if you let him come to you. Unfortunately, this isn't the first time I have seen something like this."

Mark's mother nodded. "Of course."

Lieutenant Tomlin left, returning minutes later with Mark. They had found him a clean shirt at the station, and he had washed up, but spatters and smears of blood could be seen on his jeans. He looked pale and haggard as he stared at the floor, letting himself be guided by the officer.

He looked up.

"I -", he stops and tries again. "I..."

He shakes his head. Several more times he tries to speak, opening and then shutting his mouth only to open it to a cascade of sobs.

 He looked at her grandfather. "She said I told you; she said you knew." He closed his eyes and tears ran silently down as he shook his head."I'm so sorry, Martin. I'm sorry."

"No, Mark", Martin choked the words, trying to stifle his sobs. "No. This isn't your fault."