Charlie's Angel

intervention [short]

Chris

There was a feeling that had been aching my gut for weeks now, and at first I didn't know where it came from. I felt like I had to do something–that was the only way to get rid of this nuisance.

I made one simple call to my lawyer that handled the trial, and to my surprise he allowed my request. I didn't think he would actually do it–I didn't even think it was legally possible.

The house was empty, giving me the perfect opportunity to get in and out without being noticed. Charlie was at work, and the kids were at a play date.

Within three hours, I was led to a large steel cage with a table in the center. Two uncomfortable chairs were placed on each side, and I sunk down into one while my lawyer paced back and forth while we waited.

"You sure you wanna do this?" He asked me for the tenth time. His crisp red tie was loosened around his neck as he traveled a path from one side of the cage to the other.

I nodded, not looking back at him. "I got it, man. You can relax."

We both looked forward to see Aaron in his ugly gray uniform being led to the locks. Two guards accompanied him; one unlocked the bolts and the other held onto his arm. His head was down, so he hadn't noticed me yet.

The one guard put him in the other chair and stepped out, locking the door and standing watch.

The few times that I had seen him was completely different to how he looked now. He had lost so much weight, his face sunk inward and I knew his eyes were just as bad.

Believe it or not, I felt bad for him.

"Aaron," I muttered. "Look up at me, man."

His body tensed. Because he hadn't laid eyes on me yet, he had no idea who was talking to him. When he finally did look up, though, his eyes widened before he caught himself; then his scowl reappeared. "What do you want?" The rasp in his voice gave his exhaustion away. "Where's Charlie?"

I averted my eyes and clenched my jaw. "Man, I would never let her in the same space as you again." I shifted forward and rested my elbows on the sturdy table separating us. "I came to talk to you."

He remained quiet.

"I don't hate you," I began simply. I couldn't believe I was sitting in front of the man that raped and beat my girlfriend, shot me twice, put his hands on his daughter, and caused the death of my unborn child. And yet I didn't hate him. "I've had a lot of time to think about what you've done, and hating you won't change anything. For me to move on with my life, I have to forgive you. I learned that in church."

"So what? You gonna read me scripture from the bible? Is that why you're here?"

I shook my head. "No, that's not why I'm here." I ran a hand over my curls and sighed. "I came to see if I could help you."

"Help me?" He asked in disbelief, and his eyebrows knitted together in skepticism. "Why the fuck you wanna help me? I'm a rapist, remember?"

I chuckled, and my lawyer cleared his throat to warn me about mocking him.

"You're torturin' yourself, man," I noted, squinting at him to take in his reaction.

"So? That's what they want me to do, I'm just making their jobs easier."

"Man, you only got ten years," I insisted. "This ain't a life sentence."

He looked away from me, grinding his teeth together. He looked so tired and almost dead. Honestly, you could compare him to the skeleton emoji. "I tried to save her," he mumbled, keeping his eyes on the ground. His eyelids relaxed as he suffered from his inner turmoil. This guilt was like a second skin to him and there was nothing I could do or say to ease that. "I swear I tried."