Chapter 002: Verdict of the Appalled
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Inside a hospital room, a TV was blaring loud enough for everyone inside the room to be heard.

“A bar was bombed at Westershire town yesterday at 11 pm. Out of 89 people inside, 10 people were found dead, 1 dead body is still unidentified, 22 people sustained serious injuries and were rushed towards the nearest hospital,” said the reporter as she stood in front of the place. “It is already the midnight hour, but people from different parts of the town were dashing here in St. Bartholomew's to see if their affected loved ones.”

From one of the rooms came Damien, his eyes still closed and his heart slowly dying. “Mr. Lane!” his assistant shouted as she arrived to catch a glimpse of her boss, who was currently being carried towards the Emergency Room.

“I'm sorry, Ma'am, but you need to stay outside,” said one of the nurses assisting.

“Mr. Lane, I'm sorry,” she added before the glass door shut down in front of her. Tears welled on her russet brown eyes, and without enough strength to hold it, they slowly streamed down her face. “I'm sorry.”

As the clock stroke one, a long beep was heard in front of the room. At the same time, Damien's eyes opened. He was standing in a dark place, cold and eerie. No one was around, but there came a light coming from somewhere in front of him.

“Where am I?” he asked.

“Hey, kiddo,” a voice whispered on his ears, causing him to feel shivers down his spine. Invisible chains slowly grappled her until he was defeated, his body numb in fear.

The blinding light circled around him like the fast roundabout he used to play with his friends when he was little. With a blink of an eye, a familiar face was made as the light slowly stopped.

“M-Mum?”

“Look at you, all grown up. It turns out that you became a lawyer like me as well,” the figure spoke. It stood in front of him, eyes fixed on  his own.

“Mum,” he spoke, his voice barely audible. “Is that— Is that really you?”

The figure gave him a sweet smile that made tears well up on his eyes.

“Am I… Am I dead? There was this… There was this explosion and…” he stuttered, interrupted by the memories of what happened earlier flashing towards his mind. “Where's Benedict? The… The ladies?”

Her mother crossed her arms and shook her head out of disappointment.

“I can't die. My clients are waiting for me. Who will continue our legacy? I just finished my 100th case, remember? I was so close to fame and—”

“Fame? Glory?” her mother asked, her face turned serious. “What has happened to you?” With a snap of her finger, everything around them changed.

.

“Give me some of your finest wines, please,” his voice echoed around the room together with a reflection of him sitting in front of a bartender for some drink.

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“Winner, as always,” another reflection of him boasted. It was him as he laid down his playing cards on a famous casino.

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“Settle down, ladies,” said the other Damien, standing in front of women staring at him.

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“See?” he interrupted with a grin. “Mom, they need me there! Can you please take me back?”

“You live a life full of happiness after I died,” his mother spoke.

“It's not what you think,” he interjected. “I almost ended up my life when you died at that accident five years ago. Those things, the money and the fame, are there because I worked hard to earn them.”

“I know you did. But aren't you full of pride, Damien?” she spoke as another reflection of her son came in front of them together with a young man.

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“Mr. Lane, it's a pleasure to meet you,” said a reflection of the black, young lad who was once one of those who came to him for help.

“What do you want?” The reflection of Damien asked as if he didn't have any interest talking with him.

“I heard that you are a great lawyer like the late Mrs. Eleanor Lane. My father…”

“The driver?” Damien's reflection interrupted.

“Yes, sir. Your mother started the case but it was not finished. My father was accused of stealing his boss’ jewellery almost five years from now, but he didn't really do—”

“Not interested. I got a better client coming later, so piss off,” the Damien in front of him spoke.

“But, Mr. Lane, we need you!” the young lad plead. "I can give you all the money I earned from the factory, just please help us."

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“Look, Mom, stop these!” Damien exclaimed, waving his hands towards the reflections to erase them off.

“Why?” Mrs. Lane asked, her eyebrow raised.

“I knew about that boy's case, and his father's boss is a powerful, rich man,” Damien explained.

“More powerful than you?” she asked.

“Yes,” he replied. “He can remove my job from me if I tried to get on his way.”

“And you were scared of losing your job more than your conscience bothering you for the rest of your life?” said Mrs. Lane.

“Mom, you don't understand!” Damien exclaimed once again. The tears on his eyes finally found their way to fall down. “Since you died, no one back on that life of mine loved me! If I lose my power and fame, my happiness will go away as well. Do you really want me to live a miserable life? Is that what you want?”

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“Mr. Lane, don't leave us. This is all my fault. I let you go to that party you said.” From a distance, a familiar voice once again interrupted them. As he laid his eyes behind, there he saw the reflection of his personal assistant, crying as she sat down the waiting room.

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“Christine?” he asked.

With another snap of a finger from her mother, he felt himself falling towards the light, her figure slowly fading away with the smile of her face. “Continue to live, my love,” she spoke before everything went to a blur.

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Authors' Note:

The message of the song "What's Going On" by Martin Gaye was the inspiration for this chapter.

After researching the meaning of this song, I finally had a better understanding of it. This chapter fits it well.

~𝕿𝖍𝖊 𝕭𝖆𝖐𝖊𝖗 𝕾𝖙𝖗𝖊𝖊𝖙 𝕿𝖗𝖎𝖔~
~ lorainejd and Musebime ~