“We, the jury, unanimously find the defendant, Amber Scott, as to the murder of Alejandro Scott within the first degree… guilty.”
I’ll tell you what, I don’t think my dad had this in mind for his future kids when he moved to America. Maybe he had something more in like Alejandro’s life in mind for that. Alejandro was six years older than me, making him one of the youngest people to run for Senator. He, of course, didn’t do too well when it came time for elections, but he was still very popular in our community for trying. He was always about making his way up the ladder in life. But he had a nice car and home and things were looking up for him.
Too bad he was a fucking asshole. A long line of his ex’s experience with him could write their own stories of the abuse they endured, but it was different for us other Scotts. He pretended we didn’t exist after he moved out at seventeen. My parents loved him, though, and constantly told my sister and me to look up to him.
This, of course, wasn’t any excuse for me to shoot him twice in the chest at his big McMansion. No, no. That came in the form of him getting hammered and trying to kill me first. He got super drunk when he found out a number of his stocks in up-and-coming companies plummeted in value (because they were all dogshit to begin with).
Then- because he was all about that social ladder, too- my defense attorney ended up being one of his god damn exes. I only found this out nearly halfway through building my defense. To make the court process short and sweet, most of my wounds from our ordeal healed, and a jury of my “peers” found me guilty. God damn that man and his popularity.
It’s not like I wanted to kill him.
My sentencing was at the beginning of July, just a week shy of my birthday. Let’s pray to whoever would listen that I don’t get the fucking death penalty.
The court was dismissed and I swore I could still hear people outside chanting. I’d be headed back to jail for the next two weeks but before I could be cuffed my lawyer wanted a word privately.
The room was small, an old wooden table and chairs sat in the middle. The windows were reinforced and nearly unbreakable, though I’m unsure if I’d even want to test my luck at this point. My lawyer, Sandra, offered me a seat. Once I took it, I kicked my feet up and attempted my best death glare. It might have worked, that or she was just waiting to crack.
“Listen,” She sighed, burying her head in her hands and rubbing her face, “We built up the best defense we could in our situation.”
“No,” I said, not even looking at her, “No, you didn’t. I hardly believe you tried to even contact any more of Aly’s ex’s.”
“Yes, I did, Amber.” She growled. “None of them wanted to testify against him. I think a few of them wanted to testify against you.”
“I really needed you, Sandra. Now I’m fucked forever.”
“I told you at the beginning to take the plea-”
“I THOUGHT YOU COULD WIN THIS!” I shouted, nearly choking over my words. I’d had these fits of nausea in the four months since I killed him. They got worse and today after the trial, I think I might just explode into a flaming pile of vomit.
An officer rushed in through the door, hand on his holster, but stopped when Sandra put up a hand. He eased, and made his way back out, before poking his head in again.
“Transport is waiting outside,” he said.
“Give us a moment,” Sandra replied. “We’re almost done here.”
He nodded, making his way back to the hall.
“I’m going to die, Sandra,” I whispered, tears beginning to blur my vision.
“No, you’re not.” She said, shaking her head.
“It’s over.” I was ready to stand up and leave when Sandra grabbed my arm.
“It’s not. You might be eligible-”
“For parole?” I mocked. “Shut up.”
“Goddammit, Amber. I can still appeal-”
“I’m ready to go,” I said, stumbling for the door. The officer turned back through the door and gave me a look.
“You ladies alright?” He asked.
“No,” I said, “I’m gonna fucking vomit.”
“Get her to the bathroom,” Sandra demanded.
The officer led me by the arm, speed-walking out the door and down the hall to the bathroom. I barely had time to open the toilet seat and hurl. I dry heaved as stars flooded the corners of my vision, but I managed to keep my head up. I groaned softly into the bowl and did my best to regain my footing. I flushed and stumbled to the sink.
Ugh, some of it got on my shirt. I grabbed a few paper towels, ran them under some soap and water, and began to dab it off the best I could. Gross. I caught a glance of myself in the mirror and had to do a double-take. Wow, I thought, I guess that’s what rock bottom looks like on a person. My hair was a mess, and I’d spent a good few months without proper sleep– I looked like a zombie. My face was red and my eyes were bloodshot from the intense vomiting session I just finished.
Maybe it’s not all that bad, the inner optimist in me said weakly. Yeah, maybe I can get a degree in prison. Maybe learn a trade and get fit. I almost chuckled at that. I gave myself another once over to make sure I didn’t miss any vomit on me. I took a deep breath.
I grabbed the door handle and twisted. For a second before my eyes could process anything, I began to walk out into a hallway.
Or what should have been one. Rather than the interior of a plain white courthouse, I walked out in front of a tree. I must have missed the window on my way in. That brief second was interrupted by a reminder via gravity that I had stepped out the door, as well as the realization that the other side of the door lacked a floor to stand on.
And thus, I fell.
I really don’t know how long I lay there on the ground, or if I was even really conscious during that time. Next thing I knew, I was looking sun long enough that my retinas began to burn, and I quickly covered my eyes with a wince. I sat up, my back sore, and rubbed my face. I began to blink rapidly to regain my vision, but even though I didn’t know if my vision served me right.
All around me was the decaying floor of a forest, covered in wet leaves and twigs. Patches of shelf fungus grew on the trunks of oak trees, whos branches sprawled wildly into the sky above. I shook my head to try to regain my sense of reality, but still, the scene before me remained. In every direction, the trees continued beyond my sight. Confused, I began to stand, leaning on the tree nearest to me.
Only then, did I feel the rush of coarse pain greet my throat. I hacked, coughed, and spat to try to clear my throat of the pain. I had to stop when my eyes flooded with tears again. I probably puked so hard a moment ago that I tore up my throat, I thought. I could use a drink of water really bad right now.
Wait a minute. Oh shit! I was in the middle of a fucking forest! I could ponder how the fuck I got there… or just enjoy the moment. I was literally heading to jail just a moment ago! A nice hike through the woods could do me some good. So, I set off in a direction.
I wasn’t really paying attention, but after a constant pace and about an hour, I came across a cute stream. The water peacefully bubbled across a bed of rocks, and in the distance I could see it twist throughout more forest. It reminded me of my time in scouts, and that if I really wanted to find civilization again, I could follow it downstream.
I bent over the stream and cupped my hands together to collect some water. Of course, my time in scouts would also argue this was an awful idea, but I didn’t give a shit. My throat was still sore and I was parched. Microorganisms could suck my non-existent dick. And man did that drink of water feel good. I went after another, and another, until I got my fill. I took a deep breath, and closed my eyes for a second.
I opened my eyes, looking back downstream. Civilization. This moment to myself was nice, but how long would I have it? Even by now, a few mere hours after mysteriously vanishing from the courthouse, my “escape” would be national news by now. Granted, the case was already headlined across America.
I smiled for a moment, before coming to a realization– they’d probably blame my escape on my attorney and the officer if I were gone long enough. Not like they could testify that the defense magically up and disappeared from the bathroom. This was only if I were to remain undiscovered long enough. Eventually, I had to be caught, right? This moment would not last forever, I thought.
So I sat there, leaned against a tall rock near the stream, staring off at the water vanish around the ben. I decided to enjoy it. I took my shoes and socks off, and dipped them in the water, enjoying the cool sensation. It was only then that I realized the confining nature of my blazer, and stripped myself of that, too. Fuck it, I thought. I unbuttoned my shirt, enjoying the feeling of a spring breeze on my body. And for the time being, I decided to enjoy this moment of tranquility and solitude.
A shiver ran over me, and I was stirred awake. I was still near the stream, though rather than leaning against a rock, I’d slumped into the grass beside it. I pushed myself back up, and had a quick glance about. Some light remained in the sky, but only just enough to make out the vague shapes of forest before me.
I fully blinked myself awake, before realizing the severity of my situation. Being alone in a forest at night was likely leagues worse than drinking creek water. Any number of predators could come along and do me in.
I had put my shoes and socks back on and began tying my blazer around my waist when a familiar sensation crossed me. I took a smell of the air, and took a glance at the sky once again. Rather than the color of dusk, it shone the color sunset dimmed by clouds, and the humidity began to cling to the air around me.
Rain was on its way. Regardless of it were just some utility shed, or a park bathroom, or some miraculous other source of shelter this far into the woods, I ought to start moving before it starting coming down.
And come down it did. Humid air became sprinkles, and sprinkles became heavy showers in a matter of minutes. It did not seem to be letting up, either. It was becoming harder and harder to see in the rain, and my shoes were starting to get soaked.
The last lights of dawn were nearly spent, and my energy had not began to replenish. Come to think of it, I hadn’t eaten nearly all day, made worse by the fact I spent any nourishment left in throwing up earlier. I kept my head up the best that I could, but I was getting more tired and cold by the minute.
I must have been traversing downhill for some time when my shoes began to slip against slick hillside. I clung the best I could to muddy clumps of earth and roots, but I began to tumble and slide down the hill, rolling for the last few feet. Dammit, I cursed myself, before feeling for any cuts broken bones. Luckily, nothing but a damaged ego. I corrected my stance once again and continued on. I had very little time before I was stuck out in complete darkness.
I was about to pass a clearing when I noticed a large shape in the dark. I stopped, thinking maybe my eyes were fucking with me. But they focused for a moment and I realized what I was standing before. In that clearing stood a cabin. An oil lamp sat inside near one of the windows, and remained the only light emanating from the structure
Right. How would I go about this? I could knock, asking whoever lived inside for help… then get my face done in by a redneck and his shotgun. I could be recognized, if this guy somehow had TV signal all the way out here, that or a reliable radio. I know I probably wouldn’t want a fugitive murderer in my-
CRACK!
I was jolted out of my thoughts when a bright light and deafening sound split the air, and caused my heart to leap from my chest for a moment, thudding harshly when it returned. The lightning struck oak dropped a great deal of its branches, tumbling before me. I was deafened by my own thunderous heartbeat, that I barely noticed the resounding, deep chuckle coming from somewhere behind me.
Panic flooding my mind, I quickly stumbled for the house. It turned into a full on sprint, and I nearly slipped on the mud as my mind caught up to me, if only some, and I came to a screeching halt. The house might not still be the safest option.
Something crossed my panicked mind, and I found myself looking down at the lattice covering the space beneath the porch. There, the old wood panels had given way to some other kind of animal that wanted to make their home there.
And thus, I prayed the space was vacant. I crawled into my lodgings for the night.
Wherever I woke up, it sure as hell was dark. I groaned with disgust as I could feel the dried mud on my skin crumple with each stir. I pushed myself up with my forearm and leaned on the other before I hit my head on something. I rolled over, confused. Above me were thick wooden support beams, not but two feet above me.
Oh, right. The crawlspace. I rolled back onto my stomach and began to crawl towards the pried-open lattice. Through the hole, I could see only a thick blue mist covering the grassy clearing. At least the rain had stopped, I guess.
I nearly jumped out of my skin when I noticed the soft clacking sound moving about the floorboards above me. The sound kind of reminded me of someone walking around in sturdy-as-hell work boots. The walking would be above me for a moment, then stop, then move to another part of the house, then stop.
I heard a teeny metallic clank on the floor, and for the first time in perhaps a day, I heard someone speak.
“Darn it.” A deep, gravelly male voice said, so quietly I nearly didn’t hear it. The walking continued to another part of the cabin, and then I heard the sound of running water. Then, he walked back over.
Well, shit. Someone did live here. I should probably leave while I have the chance. I’d just stuck my head out of the hole when a rush of wind, followed by footsteps met my ears. I panicked, pushing myself back inside. I covered my mouth with my hands to muffle my breathing, and the sound of gravel shuffling sounded closer, and onto the porch above.
There was a knock on the door, and the attendant approached and answered.
“How can I help officer?” The gruff voice answered. Shit. Shit. SHIT. SHIT! Somehow they’d tracked me down already. No idea how, they’d taken my phone into evidence about a year ago-
“Mister Oak? I’m sure you’ve heard about the incident that happened in Canterlot last week.” An unfamiliar voice said. The fuck is a Canterlot? Must be far from Tallahassee.
“I sure have.” The tenant replied, somberly. “Well, as much as they’re telling us. I sure hope everything is okay up there.”
“We have Royal Orders to be on the lookout for any rogue humans. The only problem is they aren’t like your normal humans.”
“Like the rabid ones that attacked?”
“Er, kinda. Here.” There was a rustle of paper. “We’ve been posting these nearly everywhere, but I was worried about some of you more rural folk.”
What the hell? Why were these guys talking about people like that? Sure, I was relieved they didn’t mention the words “convicted” or “murderer”, but there was still a gross, nauseous feeling in my gut.
“Terran humans? What in Tartarus is that?” The occupant asked.
“It’s a term the higher-ups use for only certain kinds of humans. Not too sure, myself. All their traits are listed right there. I’d be locking up your axes when you’re not using them, Mister Oak.”
“Good idea. Just come to one of you fellas if I see one?”
“Yes, sir. I’ll be headed off around the rest of the neighborhood to let them know. You take care, now.”
“Have a good rest of your day, officer.” The house’s occupant stepped back inside, and the officer stepped off the porch.
I didn’t hear him walk away, however. I heard him take a few steps, sure, but I only heard a loud sort of flapping noise, almost like a large bird flying off. Shit, maybe he did walk away– I could have been sitting under the house too long, breathing in god-knows-what.
I almost made my way back through the trellis when the occupant opened the door again, this time stepping off the porch and onto the gravel path. He coughed, and I could hear him walk further out onto the path, and I heard the light clinking of small metal pieces. There was a dragging sound across the pebbles.
Finally, out of the trellis, I could see a cart being pulled by a horse. The contents of the cart were strange. It seemed to be a large pile of blackish overgrowth, perhaps burnt. Also strange was the little gray horse pulling it.
It was small, like a pony. It was a little pudgier than any I’d seen, but still weirdly rigid looking. I had to suppress a laugh when I saw the little guy was wearing a blue bandana around his neck and a brown hat over his ears. But I froze when I noticed something.
As it made its way down the path, I realized no man was steering the horse. Then the horse stopped, looking back at the house. The damn thing had a mustache. Not to mention, large eyes, almost like an alien. And I swear to god, it was looking right at me– if not the hole in the trellis– with a frown, as though thinking.
My blood ran cold, and I froze, unable to do anything but stare back. Then, after a minute, he turned his head back down the path and continued on his way.
I didn’t care what the fuck was happening, what just happened, or what was going to happen next. All I knew was that I had to get out from under that porch and away from this place.
