Chapter 13 — Reflections of the Fallen
Chapter 13 — Reflections of the Fallen
In a state correctional facility two hundred miles outside the city, the afternoon sun filtered through high, barred windows onto a dusty recreation yard.
Jasper Lawson sat on a wooden bench, wearing a plain orange jumpsuit. His hands were calloused from working in the prison library, his posture humbled, his former arrogance completely stripped away.
Every week, he was allowed one phone call.
His mother, Gillian, called him from a small, low-cost suburban apartment where she and Priscilla now lived. Priscilla had been forced to take a job as a entry-level retail clerk, while Gillian spent her days managing their tiny monthly budget.
"Jasper," Gillian’s voice came weakly through the receiver. "Is there any update on your parole hearing next year?"
"No, Mom," Jasper said quietly, staring at the concrete wall. "The board denied early review. I’ll serve the full four years."
"It’s so unfair!" Gillian wept. "Hailey is everywhere on the news! She just opened another maternal center in Chicago! She’s being named Businesswoman of the Year! She took everything from us!"
Jasper closed his eyes, leaning his head against the cold payphone partition.
"No, Mom," Jasper said, his voice quiet, heavy with genuine, profound remorse. "She didn't take anything from us. We tried to take everything from her."
"Jasper—"
"She gave us respect, Mom. She gave me her love. And all we did was treat her like she was beneath us because she didn't show off her wealth."
Jasper swallowed hard, wiping a tear from his eye.
"She was the best thing that ever happened to my life... and I pushed her onto a bus because I wanted to look big in front of people who don't care about me."
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He hung up the phone without waiting for a reply, walking slowly back to his cell.
His punishment was not just the steel bars or the lost freedom. His true punishment was the clear, unyielding realization that he had possessed true happiness, and destroyed it with his own hands.
