Trust [h.s.]

XI

The blaring sounds of police sirens shook me from my slumber with a jolt. Flashes of red and blue projected across the walls as the vehicles neared our home at an alarming pace;  the low rumble of rubber tires accelerating against the concrete streets echoing throughout the quiet neighborhood.

The pounding on our front door was heard next, voices from the outside shouting and yelling, urging to be let in, to be listened to.

Though my heart flooded with fear, and my blood pumped noisily through my ears, I silently slipped out of bed, not making a sound as I crept down the stairs.

"No, no, there must be some mistake." I heard my mother's distraught voice plead. I sat perched at the top of the stairs, gripping tightly on the wooden banister as I watched the grave-faced policemen demand to take Asher. My mother's shoulders shook with quivering sobs as Asher accepted his defeat in silence, facing my mother as the policemen handcuffed him from behind.

"Please, there must be something I can do to fix this! Please, please, don't take him." My mother bawled hysterically, gripping the arm of her eldest child with a maternal intensity that was both firm and tender.

"Ma'am, you need to release your son immediately. If not, you will be charged with obstruction of justice, and possibly accomplice of murder, and sentenced to jail time."

"Murder?" My mother's face fell just as my breath hitched in my throat. That couldn't be. There must have been some sort of mistake. Asher wouldn't hurt a fly.

My mother's urgent cries were replaced by impotent hiccups as the policemen turned, and began to tug my brother away. Asher's body turned with theres', but his head's direction still faced the inside of our home. Just before he was out of sight, my brother caught my eye with a guarded look, a gaze that was foretelling as well as knowing.

I was sure that I had been unseen, that no one had noticed my presence. I assumed that I was invisible to the scene before me until Asher's hazel eyes met mine with such intensity, it sucked the air straight from my lungs.

'I'm sorry.' He mouthed to me.

Before I could respond, he was harshly tugged away by the officers, stumbling slightly as the manhandled him.

My mother's cries once again manifested into full blown sobs.

Asher was gone.

A loud gasp was sucked harshly into my lungs as I woke, burning my windpipe as the air flew down. I was drenched with sweat, my hair sticking to my slicked skin and my entire body glazed in a coat of perspiration. My hands, limp at my sides, trembled significantly as my mind reeled, conjuring up images and vivid memories of that terrible night. It was all so surreal, as if I had been back to that very evening, my sights and feelings mimicking those of what exactly had happened.

Of course, it was just a nightmare, a dream that most likely lasted no more than a few minutes. To me, however, it would never be just a dream. It was a memory, a flashback of the worst night of my existence that refused to untangle itself from my memory. I felt as though the entire ordeal hovered over my head in a dark cloud of unanswered questions and bottled up emotions.

It wasn't until the droplets splashed onto my lips did I realize I was crying, and a few fallen tears quickly transformed into a sprung leak that had me gasping for air in between sobs. The loud noises I produced were not intentional, but the second my bedroom door burst open, I knew that I had gotten Harry's attention.

"What's wrong?" He slurred in a raspy voice, words still laced with sleep. His unruly curls were disheveled from tossing and turning on his pillow, his bare chest shone in the darkness, outlining every muscle and crevice that existed on his terrain of flesh. The only article of clothing that he wore was a pair of black boxer shorts that hung dangerously low on his slender hips. If they were any lower, he would have been completely exposed to me.