Chapter 2
Hayden
“So Cold-Crossfade”
Six months later…
“Hayden Kingston Marks.” Judge Fitzgerald’s voice slices through the room. “Please rise.” The chains around my wrists clink as I stand. Fifteen years old and already buried alive.
The courtroom smells like old wood, sweat, and corruption. Somewhere behind me people whisper like I’m some monster dragged out of a sewer.
Maybe I am.
That's what everyone always thought anyway. Trailer trash. Troublemaker. Future criminal.
The dirtbag from the wrong side of the tracks. I should’ve told Justin to just stay home. This was supposed to be a one man job, and now… he’s gone.
That thought eats at me every damn night inside holding, but the truth is simple.
Justin had a future. A real one. He had parents who loved him. Money and opportunities. His college applications were sitting on his desk that night. Just waiting to be filled out.
Me?
I had an alcoholic mother passed out on stained couches. Bills stacked higher than the damn fridge and a juvenile record longer than most grown men.
I doubt anyone was shocked when they arrested me. Hell, they probably threw a party and celebrated my demise. Like the system finally got what it was waiting for… but this?
This wasn’t justice. This was a set up. And the bastard sitting in front of me in his black robe knows it.
Judge Fitzgerald watches me from his throne with cold dead eyes, like he’s already decided what kind of man I’ll become, or maybe he already made sure of it.
Because he isn’t just the judge.
He’s Ophelia’s father.
My jaw tightens so hard it hurts.
Ophelia Fitzgerald.
My Firefly.
Just thinking about her makes my chest cave in.
Six months… six fucking months in holding and she hasn’t visited once.
Not one letter back.
Not one answer to the hundreds I sent her. Her number changed two weeks after I got arrested.
At first, I thought maybe she was scared. Then I thought maybe her father forced her. Now?
Now I don’t know what to think.
That’s the worst part. Not knowing if she still loves me or if she already buried me in her mind.
The last thing I texted her plays in my mind on repeat every night like a song designed to torture me. I’m sorry, Firefly. I love you always.
I sent it because I knew the cops were coming.
I sent it because I was terrified.
I sent it because some part of me knew my life was over.
And I never got to hear her voice again.
My stomach twists violently, and I force myself not to look behind me.
I know she isn’t here.
She wouldn’t be allowed anyway.
Not with her father making sure I disappear forever.
The prosecutor painted me like some drunk delinquent who stole a car and killed a man.
But that’s not what happened.
We weren’t driving a damn thing. We were jacking it. Yeah. Fine. Arrest me for theft. Throw me in juvie for that.
But the car that hit us came out of nowhere. Justin got pinned between the two vehicles before I could even think.
I can still hear him screaming.
Still see the blood.
I still feel his hand slipping from mine while I tried to pull him free.
I didn’t leave him.
That’s what kills me most.
I stayed because he was my best friend.
A brother to me. We’ve known each other since we were ten and covered in mud from racing bikes through the trails.
I stayed because I couldn’t let him die alone.
And somehow that made me the villain.
Judge Fitzgerald folds his hands together, staring right into my soul. “Mr. Marks,” he says smoothly. “You are fifteen years old. I hope you understand that your actions carry consequences.” His voice drips with fake sympathy.
Makes me fucking sick.
“You are hereby sentenced to life in Whitestone Penitentiary for Manslaughter in the First Degree,” he states casually, like he didn’t just steal my entire life from me.
My heart drops as my fists tighten at my sides.
No! No! NO!
“You are being sentenced as an adult and will not be eligible for parole until the age of fifty-five,” he says as the room tilts sideways.
I can barely hear the gasps around me over the roaring in my ears. Fifty-five? I’ll die in prison. My entire life was stolen before it even started.
And then the bastard grins. “Use this time to reflect on your actions, son.” His words snap something inside me.
Son? Like he gives a damn about me. Like this wasn’t personal. Rage detonates through my body so violently I stop thinking completely. He did this. This motherfucker set me up to keep me away from Ophelia.
“You fucking piece of shit!” I roar as I vault over the railing before anyone can stop me.
Chains whip against my skin as I launch toward the bench. I’m going to kill him.
I swear to God, I’m going to wrap these cuffs around his throat and make him choke on every lie he told.
But strong arms slam into me midair as the bailiff tackles me hard enough to crack my face against the floor.
Pain explodes through my jaw while hands grab at me from every direction. “Get the fuck off me!” I scream, thrashing violently. “HE SET ME UP!”
Nobody listens, nobody ever listens to boys like me.
They drag me from the courtroom while Fitzgerald watches in silence. That smug expression burns itself into my brain forever.
The holding cell door clangs shut behind me like the gates of hell. I pace like a caged animal while blood drips from my split lip.
My public defender barely looked at me during the trial.
Didn’t fight.
Didn’t push back.
He just simply didn’t care.
Just another poor kid thrown into the grinder.
I slam my cuffed fists into the concrete wall. “We weren’t driving!” I shout at nobody. “We didn’t fucking kill anyone!” My voice cracks, because I know deep down that the truth doesn’t matter.
Not when powerful men decide your fate before you ever step into a courtroom.
I slide down the wall until my ass hits the floor, breathing hard. Fifty-five… fifty-five.
By the time I get out, Ophelia will probably have kids. A husband with a perfect rich life, some asshole in a country club sweater.
And me?
I’ll be the ghost she used to love.
The thought hollows me out.
But then, another feeling rises beneath the grief. Something darker. Hatred.
I lift my head slowly, starting at the steel door in front of me. Judge Fitzgerald thinks he won. He thinks he buried me where nobody will ever find me again.
But prison doesn’t kill boys like me. It creates new weapons. And one day, I’ll get out and I’ll hunt down every person involved.
Every cop.
Every lawyer.
Every lying bastard who helped destroy my life.
Especially him—Judge Fitzgerald.
And when I finally stand in front of him again, I’m going to rip apart everything he loves most. Including his precious daughter, because Ophelia is still mine.
She always will be… even if I have to crawl out of hell itself to get back to her.