CHAPTER FORTY-EIGHT:
HELL IS EMPTY
(episode five: the darkest hour)

■ ■ ■ ■ ■

THE WOODEN BENCH BENEATH Haven was like stone. The courtroom walls felt like they were closing in, squeezing the breath out of her lungs. JJ was sitting on one side of her, hand gripping hers. Melinda sat on the other side, eyes locked on her daughter's face. She'd screamed when Haven first arrived home, shouted herself hoarse with worry. But at the sight of her daughter's tears, her nephew's shattered resolve, every bit of anger seemed to fade. Nothing remained but fear now, the terror for what was about to come when John B's sentence was announced.

"John Booker Routledge, pursuant to the North Carolina statute section fourteen," the judge began, stern voice echoing around the silent room. "You are charged with murder in the first degree with aggravated circumstances. If convicted, the maximum sentence would be the death penalty."

Shocked murmurs broke out but Haven couldn't bring herself to say anything. She'd looked it up the moment she got home, what the charges were for a situation like this. After reading them, she'd thrown up again, and promptly been unable to sleep for the rest of the night. Was John B going to die for good this time?

"You're honour, he's seventeen," she heard JJ shout before letting her go and standing up over the crowd.

"JJ―" Arden hissed, attempting to drag him back down but he shook her off.

"No, he's seventeen, are you kidding me?"

The chaos of the crowd was enough for the judge to disperse the room. Guards began to lead John B into the back where he'd be taken to the juvenile detention centre to wait for the final verdict. JJ tore through the crowd to get to the front, shouting promises to him that Haven doubted he'd be able to follow through with. They'd already done everything they could. Arden convinced Liam to pay for the best lawyer they could find on such short notice, and she'd tried to give a witness' statement again, but they were stuck, the sitting ducks, while the real fucking murderer walked free.

You wouldn't be able to tell that, though, just by looking at the crowd as they left the courthouse behind. Haven was gripping onto JJ, nodding along to his angry grumbles as they glared at every passing person they heard agreeing with the charges. It was ridiculous. Most of these people had watched John B grow up, and now they thought he was capable of killing someone? It was almost laughable.

"Someone hold me back," Arden huffed as the pogues and Haven gathered at the foot of the stairs. "Before I do something I regret."

"This has to be a joke," Kie insisted. "Like, are we in hell, or...?"

"He's seventeen," Haven repeated what JJ had said earlier. "What kind of fucked up system are we dealing with if they're comfortable killing a minor?"

That was when she heard it. There were a group of men storming past, and one had the nerve to apologise to Ward fucking Cameron like he was the one that was suffering. At that, a frantic laugh fell from her lips, the first sound she'd made that wasn't angry words of heartbroken tears. How dare they?

"Can you please shut up?" Kie shouted, marching over to glare in their faces. The men paused, evidently confused over why she was yelling at them. But they were about to find out. And for once, Haven wanted Kie to lash out, to wound Ward in any way that she could. "Of course you think the system worked because it was made to protect you and people like you."

"He'll have his day in court," the man defended himself. "A jury will decide."

"Yeah, a jury that's full of stuck up assholes," Haven scoffed at the same time as Kie yelled, "He shouldn't even be in court. You should―" Ward froze, turning around to meet her glare head on. "Because you're the murderer. You have a lot of nerve showing up here like this."

"Hey, I know you're upset," he snapped. "I understand, okay?"

"Oh, shut the fuck up," Haven hissed, letting go of JJ to join Kie. "Seriously, don't you dare pull that bullshit."

"I know he's got you fooled. He's got you all fooled―"

"I was there too," Arden cut him off, hoping someone, anyone, would hear them and listen. "How can he have fooled me if I saw it with my own fucking eyes?'

"You don't know what you're saying, Arden, that's already been proven."

In an instant, Arden was launching herself at Ward, Kie right behind her. Police officers were quick to descend on them, pushing them back as Ward screamed bullshit about showing him respect.

"Respect?" Haven repeated in disbelief, vainly pushing against an officer's shoulder as she locked eyes with him. "Pigs like you don't deserve respect. You're letting a boy die for your crimes."

"Come on, that's enough," Shoupe intervened, hands raised like he was trying to play both sides. But he wasn't. He would've done everything to help John B if he was. "Hey, you need to go."

Haven scoffed, turning on her heel and pushing her way through the crowd.

"It's not a coincidence that your daughter is sitting with us," she heard Kie shout at Ward before they followed her, but she couldn't bring herself to stop and wait for them.

This couldn't be happening. It had to be some sort of nightmare that Haven would soon wake up from. No. She'd wake up and John B would be there. Ward would be behind bars with Rafe, the Cameron crown passed on to someone like Sarah, who could use it wisely. Everything would be okay.

But that was just a dream, a foolish thought, and dreams were made for suckers.

■ ■ ■ ■ ■

HAVEN DIDN'T JOIN THE others after that. Melinda insisted on taking her straight home, to where Haven locked herself in her room and refused to come out. She didn't want to hear her mother's poor attempts to make her feel better. She just wanted John B to be free. And until that happened, she wouldn't just sit there and let her mother coddle her like he was already dead, again.

"Haven," Brec's voice called out as she knocked on the door about an hour later. "Haven, can I come in?"

Haven shook her head. She hadn't seen Brec since before everything happened. From what Leonie and Alison had told her, she'd been grounded. Why she was there now, Haven wasn't sure, but she really didn't feel like playing pretend with her anymore.

"Haven." Brec was knocking again, desperate this time. "Come on. I know you're in there."

At that, Haven sighed. She had hoped she would leave if she just ignored her, but Brec was stubborn for once, rapping her knuckles on the door again and again until Haven, in a whirlwind of frustration, moved over to switch over the lock. When Brec stepped into the room, she was already back on her bed, a pillow gripped in her arms. Brec stayed frozen for a second, then slowly inched over to sit beside her.

"Hey." She was nervous. Haven could tell by the way her hands were shaking. What did she have to be nervous about? What was coming? "I've been meaning to visit you for a while now. But mum and dad only just let me out. I'm sorry."

"Don't be," Haven mumbled, unable to say anything else.

"Uh, listen, Haven―" Brec cut herself off with a sigh, gnawing on her lower lip. "I didn't want to do this right now. I really didn't. But I considered waiting, and I know I'll never gain the courage to do this again, so... Oh, god, why is this so hard?"

"You're breaking up with me."

The room went dead silent. Haven heard her mother bustling about in the kitchen, chatting to Rosie as she put together her lunch. Liam and JJ were out, probably trying to fix things. Haven forced herself to meet Brec's shocked eyes then, to smile even though it took every bit of her strength.

"It's okay, Brec," she assured her. "I think we both knew this was coming sooner or later."

"I'm sorry," Brec immediately sighed. "This is horrible timing, and I tried to say something earlier, but than my family called me back―"

"I get it. It's alright, I promise." And it was. The feeling of relief was almost instantaneous. Haven's smile felt easier this time. "You're great, Brec, but I think I confused genuine feelings with infatuation."

"I've been feeling the same way," Brec confessed. "I like having you as a friend, you know?"

"So friends then?"

"Of course."

At least one good thing would come out of this wretched day. 

■ ■ ■ ■ ■

THE RESTRICTIVE WALLS OF Kildare County Detention Centre were a morose shade of grey. The moment Haven stepped through the gated doors, she found herself pausing to eye the empty receptionist’s desk. Everything about this place felt… suffocating. Like once those doors closed behind her, she would never get out. There were no windows, nothing but a tiny room with a counter and a row of benches to wait on. Wordlessly, she sat down, and almost immediately, her knee started to bounce with anticipation. 

Only an hour earlier, JJ had been in this very room, waiting to see John B. It was actually JJ who had told Haven that John B was allowed to have visitors. He was awfully cheery for someone who had just visited his best friend in prison, and it made Haven suspicious, but she didn’t question it as she quickly changed into an acceptable outfit and took the car over to the detention centre. She just wanted to see John B for herself, to know he really was okay. 

Suddenly, a door to her right snapped open, and in stepped an officer that Haven was unfortunate enough to recognise. Her eyes narrowed into a glower, and before the woman could say anything, she was up and approaching the counter with a sickly sweet smile.

“Name please?” the Officer relayed, voice monotone as she looked Haven up and down. 

“Haven Murphy,” the girl in question stated, just waiting for realisation to sink in. “I’m here to see John B Routledge.”

Almost immediately, a scowl tugged at the officer’s brows, yet she said nothing as she typed something down on the computer. “Your cousin was here just an hour ago,” she pointed out after a moment.

“I’m aware.”

“He likes to cause trouble, doesn’t he?” When Haven didn’t reply, she continued, looking for weak spots. “How’s that kid of his? He taking good care of her?”

Haven’s stare remained impassive and impatient, but inside, she was seething. “Do you always ask invasive questions…” Her eyes lowered to the woman’s badge, reading off the name printed on it. “Officer Plumb?”

Plumb scoffed, hackles raising. “Empty your pockets, Murphy. And lose the choker. We don’t allow jewellery that could be used as a weapon.”

Rolling her eyes, Haven did as she was asked, slamming her phone and necklace down on the desk in front of her. Every move reeked of impatience, something that Plumb noticed and prompted her to take just that bit longer with processing Haven’s visit. Once she was absolutely sure she had nothing else on her, she ushered Haven down a corridor with cells on one side and windows on the other. Haven did her best not to look at the cells, instead focusing on the room they were about to enter. It was cold, and not just in temperature. The walls were painted a cool blue, like sheets of ice on a fresh Winter morning. Crammed inside were several metallic tables and chairs that were being closely monitored by the bored guard at the door. Fortunately, there weren’t any other prisoners receiving visitors at that time, allowing Haven to approach John B after sparing Plumb one last sneer.

“Haven,” John B blinked as she hovered by the table. “I didn’t know it was you visiting me.”

From what she could see, he was relatively unharmed apart from the bruises that remained on his face. He wore the bright orange jumpsuit given to every inmate, a colour that Haven would never be able to look at in the same way after this. Thick handcuffs kept his wrists attached to the table, and Haven longed to reach out and take his hands in hers, to feel the warmth of his touch.

“You mind if I sit?” she tried her best to grin as she gestured to the seat opposite him.

A grin settled on John B’s face. “‘Course not. Make yourself at home, Havey. Sorry I can’t be a more hospitable host. I’m a bit tied up at the moment.”

“You don’t say,” she snorted, then gingerly lowered herself onto the bench. For a split second, neither of them spoke, just eyeing each other like they’d never seen each other before. Then Haven smirked. “You know, orange really doesn’t suit you, JB. I don’t know which is worse; this or the sunburnt criminal.”

John B laughed, and Haven was pleased to hear the sound was genuine, like they were sitting on the beach or lounging around the Chateau, not a prison. “You're one to talk,” he retorted, eyes lingering on her bare neck. “Where’s your choker?”

“Had to leave it outside,” she sighed. “That bitch, Plumb, thought I’d choke someone out with it or something.”

“You?” he scoffed in faux disbelief. “Never.”

Haven narrowed her eyes. “You have no faith in me?”

At that, John B sobered. “Of course I do,” he said, and Haven was stunned by just how genuine he sounded. “I was just… joking around. I don’t know. This is the first time I’ve laughed in a while.”

“Oh, come on. Your visit with JJ didn’t brighten this place up?”

“No. He’s an idiot.”

Haven smiled sadly, subconsciously reaching for his hand. She paused just before her fingers could touch his, glancing at the door to check if the guard was watching. His back was turned as he argued through a cell door with one of the inmates, prompting Haven to quickly reach out and grab John B’s hand.

“We’ll find someone who can get you out of here, JB,” she insisted. “I…”

She trailed off, knowing she couldn’t say it. She wanted to promise him, but both of them knew there were no guarantees with his wrists in shackles. So she stayed quiet, just holding his hand, the two of them listening to the guard and the inmate. John B hesitated, arm visibly tensing in a way that Haven noticed. It was like he wanted to admit something, but at the last second, he changed his mind, knowing it would only upset her.

So he settled on the easy things instead, missing the sight of her grin. “How are things with Brec?” he asked.

Haven just shrugged, awfully indifferent. “She and I broke up.”

“Oh, shit,” John B frowned. “Sorry, Have.”

“It’s okay,” she said. “You were right. Both of us were losing interest.”

“And you’re alright?”

“Yeah,” she chuckled, squeezing his hand. “I’m fine, JB. Just waiting for the day you get out of here.”

John B smiled softly, the chains around his wrists clanking sharply as he adjusted his hold, not wanting to let go. It was nice being so close to someone again, even for just a second when the guard’s back was turned. He didn’t know when he’d see Haven, or any of his friends again, when he’d get to do something as simple as holding a girl’s hand. Maybe those moments would never come, and this was all they’d have. Or maybe he’d meet his death for good, and Haven would spiral in her grief again. It was a dark thought, and it made John B’s jaw clench, especially as Plumb’s knuckles rapped on the door in warning.

“It’s time,” she declared, eyeing their fingers. Haven quickly pulled away, leaving John B to fade into the coldness again. “Let’s go, Murphy.”

“I’ll try and visit again tomorrow, okay?” Haven told him, rushing to get the words out as time slipped away. She stood up, sparing him one last smile that John B weakly returned.

And then she was gone.

The silence in the corridor was potent, like something was coming. Plumb wore a strange smirk as she lead Haven through a different door to the last one. This time, they passed a row of windows looking out into a packed courtyard. A group of inmates were playing basketball, and it didn’t take Haven long to recognise one of them. Luke Maybank was already staring back when she spotted him, sneering at her in disgust. Haven’s breath hitched, and in an instant, she turned to glare at Plumb.

“Fuck you,” she spat before she could stop herself.

Now, that wiped the smirk off Plumb's face. “Careful, Murphy,” she hissed. “One wrong word and you’ll never see your little boyfriend back there again.”

Haven didn’t bother to correct her, the words dying on her tongue as she stormed the rest of the way down the corridor. The threat had gotten under her skin and made a home in her brain. Why did it sound like something more? Like Plumb wasn’t talking about John B’s visitation rights… but his life itself.

Forever and then some passed before Haven left the Detention Centre. Plumb attempted to walk her out, but Haven cut her off by slamming the door in her face, rushing across the parking lot towards her car with eyes burning on her back. The moment her hands curled around the wheel, Haven broke. She punched the leather material with a frustrated shout, then sunk back into her chair with her head in a frenzy.

All these months had gone by, nearly a year, and Haven hadn’t told anyone but JJ and the pogues about what Luke had done. Not even Melinda knew, and Haven had been given plenty of time to inform her. For a while, she’d thought it was easier to let it go. Luke had been locked away for something else almost as soon as John B and Sarah disappeared. At least that was something. But Haven knew his days there were numbered. Unlike John B, that was already set in stone. What would she do when Luke inevitably walked free? Was there any part of Melinda that would believe her if she went to her now? And what would JJ think? Haven doubted if it was even worth it.

But the moment she pulled into the drive, the words bubbled over. Melinda was sitting on the couch, and she sat up the second Haven stepped inside with a bright smile. It struck at something painful in Haven’s chest, and before she knew it, she was reaching for her mother and allowing the confused woman to embrace her in a hug.

“Mum,” she murmured into the woman’s shoulder. “There’s something I’ve been keeping from you… for a while now.”

Melinda frowned, immediately pulling away from her. “Okay? What is it?”

For a moment, Haven said nothing, stuck on the thought of Luke’s face behind those prison walls. “It’s about Uncle Luke,” she finally muttered. 

Melinda tensed. “What about him, Haven?”

“I saw him at the Detention Centre today. I went to see John B, and Luke was in the courtyard.”

“Well, I already knew that. I thought you did too, sweetie, so where is this coming from?”

“I think he’s getting out soon,” Haven continued like she hadn’t interrupted. She didn’t even think. Maybe she should’ve. “But I know a reason why he shouldn’t. More than just drugs, more than what he did to JJ. And I’ve never told anyone before.”

“Haven, what is it?” Melinda sighed, a hint of worry shining in her eyes. “You’re starting to scare me.”

“The car accident with dad,” she began, remaining blank-faced even when her mother winced at the reminder. The weight was lifting, a secret no longer kept, only to be replaced by new woes as Melinda began to sob in horror. “I told you that I thought I saw someone’s face. At the time, I wasn’t sure if I did or not. Everything was so hazy. But I did, mum. And it was someone I recognised. It was him.”

“Haven, you don't…”

“It was Uncle Luke,” she declared, right as Liam stepped into the room with a pale-faced Arden behind him, a piece of paper clutched in her hand. “He caused the accident.”