Chapter 9 - The Visit to the Cage
Before they were moved to the federal penitentiary,
I requested one final meeting with Arthur and Margaret.
I wanted to see them in their reality.
I wanted them to see me.
They were behind a glass partition,
looking old and hollow.
Arthur’s skin was sallow,
his eyes sunken.
Margaret’s hair was gray,
no longer perfectly coiffed.
"Why are you here?"
Arthur rasped,
his voice sounding like dry leaves.
"To gloat?"
"No,"
I said,
sitting down on the stool.
"To tell you that Sophie is walking again."
"And she has a new dog."
"His name is Barnaby."
Margaret let out a dry sob.
"We lost everything,
Elena."
"Our home,"
"Our money,"
"Our names."
"You didn't lose them,"
I said.
"You threw them away."
"You thought that being a Vaughn meant you were above the law of the heart."
"You thought you could cook the soul of a child and get away with it."
"Look around you,"
I said,
gesturing to the concrete walls.
"This is your legacy."
"This is what your name means now."
"It means cruelty."
"It means cowardice."
Arthur slammed his hand against the glass,
but there was no strength in it.
"We were family!"
he shouted.
"Family is a verb,
Arthur,"
I said,
standing up.
"It's something you do."
"It's not a shield for your sickness."
"You're going to spend the next twenty years in this place."
"And every time you eat a meal,"
"I want you to remember that night."
"I want you to remember the taste of the betrayal."
I walked away,
ignoring their shouts.
The heavy metal doors closed behind me with a final,
satisfying clang.
I stepped out into the sunshine,
the air smelling of salt and freedom.
I drove home,
singing along to the radio.
When I arrived,
Barnaby was waiting at the door,
his tail thumping against the floor.
Sophie was in the kitchen,
helping me make dinner.
It was a simple meal of pasta and vegetables.
There was no tension.
There was no fear.
There was only the sound of laughter and the soft breathing of a dog.
May you like
Justice hadn't just put them in jail.
It had restored our world.
