Behind the Tears (Behind the Lives) Read Free

that led to the parole hearing, wincing as he pushed through a crowd of noisy people. Every shove and shout reverberated up the back of his neck, reaching through to punch the shit out of his brain. Having had so many hangovers, he would’ve thought he could cope with them better, but no, experience didn’t weaken the effect of a pounding headache.
    He veered into the men’s toilets, his mouth drier than a used up whore. He stopped in front of a hand-basin and bent over to drink from the tap. When his thirst was satisfied, he glanced up, stopping when he saw his reflection in the mirror. His eyes were bloodshot with dark rings shadowing them, making him look way older than twenty-three. He’d only intended on a few drinks last night, enough to take the edge of things, but what he intended was never related to what he did.
    He splashed water over his face, getting some on his good suit. He swore and wiped at it, then gave up, resigned that today was going to be crap no matter what he did. He headed out of the men’s and cut across the corridor, stopping in front of a policewoman, who was blocking the entrance to the courtroom.
    “I’m here for Chaz... I mean Charles Greenwood’s parole hearing,” Dante said, looking down at the paper in her hand, assuming it was a list. “I’m Dante Rata, his stepson.”
    The policewoman checked the paper then opened the door, indicating for Dante to enter. He headed inside, surprised by how empty the courtroom was. Except for two policemen standing in front of a glass barrier, the public gallery was unoccupied.
    Dante stopped in the middle of the aisle, and looked through the glass. On the other side, three people sat behind a long table, their suits and airs of importance suggesting they were the parole board. A voice caught his attention, someone calling out Ash’s name. Dante’s gaze shifted to a box on the parole board’s left, where a blond man in handcuffs stood with a guard. It took Dante a few seconds to realise the man in prison greys was his stepfather. Of course he knew Chaz was attending, but to actually see the man—a remote memory from his childhood—was still a shock, something that didn’t feel real.
    Chaz’s gaze bore into Dante, his expression almost happy. A scar ran down his right cheek, while two teardrop tats sat under his left eye. Dante stared at the tattoos, their meaning sickening him. They had been forced upon his stepfather by fellow inmates to mark him as a paedophile—an old New Zealand meaning, and something that Dante wouldn’t have known if Ash hadn’t told him. Since he was a fan of the rapper Li’l Wayne, he’d only heard of the American definitions, one of them symbolising the loss of a loved one through violence. And because he’d lost his mother, he’d wanted to get them done, but luckily he’d told Ash, his brother stopping him from making one of the biggest mistakes of his life.
    The middle-aged woman seated at the long table spoke into a microphone, “Please take a seat, the parole hearing will commence now.”
    Dante took the first chair on his left, using his hand to lower himself down. Although he felt revulsion, he couldn’t tear his gaze away from the man who’d caused so much pain for his family.
    The woman, who he assumed must be the judge, resumed talking, “As you’ve been informed, it is unusual for victims and offenders to attend a parole hearing at the same time, but due to the request made by the Rata family and agreed to by Mr. Greenwood, we have decided to allow the proceedings to go forth in this manner. However, there are certain rules to adhere to, the main one, as stipulated in the information provided, is that no one is to interrupt this hearing, otherwise they will be escorted from the room. Now, let’s proceed.” She focused on Chaz. “Charles Andrew Greenwood, in the time you’ve served, do you feel you’ve been rehabilitated?”
    “Yes, Ma’am, I...” Chaz’s gaze shifted back to Dante.