Irrevocable Consequence

By Anastasia Simonds

David Foussler has been imprisoned at the age of twenty-two for the role he played in the robbery turned murder of a wealthy couple whose son, Robert Byron is the sole survivor. Within his time incarcerated, he is haunted by dreams of the murders and the victims. Conflicted by internal feelings of guilt and ravaged by loneliness and self-loathing, he suffers a nervous breakdown and is sent to the mental ward where he eventually meets the beautiful Alexandria Lenasia aka Ally, a Ph.D. student who becomes his therapist.

David becomes enamored with the charming Ally and vows to have her even though she is betrothed to another. After many months of flirtation, the two succumb to their passion which is undeniable on both sides, leaving David feeling even more enamored than before and longing for more. However, it is short-lived and to David’s chagrin, he finds himself more alone than ever. After a tumultuous separation and extenuating circumstances that find themselves questioning the others’ love, both David and Ally eventually reunite as they both realize that despite previous blunders, they love each other.

Yet...in a terrible twist of fate, David’s unforgiving past comes back to rear its ugly head and to haunt him. He will be forced to face the victim of his past whose sick, twisted plot of revenge will force him to relive his past all over again but this time, as the victim. Ultimately, David will be faced with a terrible, heart-rendering decision as he faces the consequences of his action. Anastasia Simonds masterfully crafts a powerful yet dramatic novel that exudes raw emotion, will, and surrender. Irrevocable Consequence is a poignant and heart-wrenching tale of redemption and revenge, love, and death...where the losers win and the winners lose.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Anastasia Simonds
• Release date: Jul 8, 2020
• ISBN: 9781005805241

Anastasia Simonds

Anastasia Simonds is a writer and poet who enjoys writing heart-wrenching and emotionally poignant novels. Influenced by the culture of her British/ Caribbean upbringing, she began focusing her talent on writing short stories when she was in college but this is her first-time full-fledged novel. It is suspenseful, heartbreaking and beautiful, all in one. Anastasia is happily married and currently resides in Pittsburgh, Pennsylvania with her husband, Lewis.

Book preview

CHAPTER ONE

It was happening to him all over again...this time in reverse. Drips of sweat burst from his forehead and he felt a knot in his throat. This time he was the victim...

He woke up in a dark, dank room that smelled of urine and ugliness. He knew where he was but didn’t want to dwell on the ugly, despondent thoughts racing inside his mind. He closed his eyes shut and clenched his fist tightly, trying to zoom his mind out of the present and into the past...the past where he was young and safe...

David could smell the cloyingly sweet aroma of freshly baked cookies and bread as its fragrance sailed in the kitchen and he could hear his grandfather’s booming laughter as he beckoned him and his little brother to come play cops and robbers with the little wooden men that were his toys. Grandpa would puff his cheeks and make a roaring sometimes whirring sound as he imitated the sound of a police siren and he and his brother would escape. Eventually, the trio would collapse on the ground then David and his brother would break into fits of laughter as grandpa arrested them. Other times they giggled when he playfully seized their wooden toy men or vigorously tickled them on their tummies- boisterous tickles that only a six-year- old boy could recollect and cherish and which only a grandfather knew expertly how to give. After their rough tumbling, grandpa would make them wash up and sit to a dinner of chicken soup with rolls and a cookie for dessert. Laughter, bread, soup, and happiness always rang in the air...

But now his thoughts brought him back to reality. These obnoxious smells reminded him rudely of where and who he was. Above him, the bed rattled as his roommate snored loudly, tossing and turning in the darkness. He suddenly felt a knot in his throat. It was the same knot he’d felt for the past five years in this tiny cell. It was the feeling of hopelessness and misery that came from forced and mandatory surrender. It caused his disposition to darken like a thick, tangible, incorrigible substance. Escape was inevitable here. He wished he’d wake up from this terrible nightmare and wished his dreams would smell of the past: of cookies and wood crackling in the fireplace. But dreams were useless here.

He lay in the dark and cupped the base of his neck with the right palm of his hand and let himself relive the blood and guts and smell of spent shells. Torture. He could still see the battered bodies lying there. He and his two associates, Ricardo and Phillie had stealthily broken into the house in the middle of the night. He remembered thinking that the house was huge and very elegant even in the darkness of night. In the gloominess of night, the moonlight reflected on it as it beamed of rustic yet medieval beauty with its large marble pillars and arched ceiling. Quietly, they started packing items-portraits, ornaments, and jewellery into large knapsacks they brought with them, guided by a tiny, dim flashlight. They had calculated beforehand that they should be out of there within ten minutes or less but they hadn’t anticipated the child that was stumbling down the stairs. In the dimness, he looked to be about eight or nine years old and they froze when he questioned the darkness with a whimsical, Mummy?

Fuck! He heard his partner Phillie mutter and the other guy, Ricardo froze. Someone turned off the flashlight. There they were, standing in complete darkness, too rattled to even breathe. David felt his chest tighten and he held his breath and hoped the kid would just turn around and return to his room or just vanish for goodness’ sake so they could be on their way but he didn’t. He could hear the child’s loud breathing in the darkness. It was a wheezing sound. He winced and fumbled in the darkness to feel his partner. His eyes took a few minutes to adjust to the utter darkness in the room and when they did, he discerned Phillie. He looked in his direction and saw him put a finger on his lips. One of the bags with the loot hung dismissively against his hip. Time stood still and the air felt tense and dense. David couldn’t breathe. He felt as if he were having a panic attack. Dammit, kid! Get into your damn room before I make you, he thought nervously.

He heard the whelp of the child before he knew what was happening. It all happened so instantaneously, so morbidly quickly that it sent a chill down his spine. He saw the glimmer of light refract off the blade of a knife as Phillie held the edge of the knife perilously against the young boy’s neck while his other hand cupped his mouth, muffling his cries. There was a whimper, then deathly silence. With the child forcibly huddled tightly against his partner, they stealthily treaded, careful not to put too much weight on either foot. They were nearly done with this job and they could make it...

Who’s there? A loud proclamation suddenly rang out intrusively in the silence. David closed his eyes painfully. He knew this was the end. Lights switched on, a sharp intrusion upon the darkness that their eyes hadn’t gotten used to. Each man winced involuntarily partly from shock and partly from that sensation of temporary blindness. They turned and looked at each other, confused and uncertain. Ricardo, the leader was six foot four, a giant of a man that towered over the rest of them. David saw Ricardo’s hand fumble in his pocket and froze. He knew Ricardo was the only one who carried a gun. He braced himself against a wall and waited for the drama to unfold...The scene dissolved into chaos. He trembled as Ricardo cocked the gun and everything descended into calamity.

He didn’t want to hear the pleas anymore. How they pleaded for their lives with bruised and bloodied faces...how they whimpered and cried pathetically...how they begged to give away their possessions in exchange for their lives but with Ricardo, it was not enough. It was never enough! Nothing was ever enough for Ricardo. It would be all or nothing. David heard himself shouting at Ricardo.

That’s enough, man! He yelled but both men were intent on some misguided type of revenge. He almost didn’t recognize their sweat drenched faces as they snared at the dead man with a sinister look on their faces as he lay on the ground, covered in his own blood. His now pale hand hung limply around his son who lay next to him, crying in despair and drenched in his father’s still warm blood. His wife lay a short distance away, freshly dead as Phillie had joked afterward.

A few minutes earlier, Ricardo had shot the woman. The bullet had grazed the right side of her cheek then travelled down to her chest where it had lodged in her heart. Blood had started flowing profusely from her chest as her husband had watched in absolute horror. The grieving husband had forgotten he was outnumbered and had rushed over to his wife cradling her in his arms as she gasped loudly before closing her eyes and stiffening on the ground. It was a ghastly scene but David accepted it as a necessary evil and a means to an end. The scene then again unfolded into chaos before his eyes as this time Ricardo shot the man, grazing his leg. Bleeding, he had tried to wrestle the gun out of Ricardo’s hand but he was quickly overpowered by Ricardo and Phillie and slapped in his face several times. He swore at Ricardo and David could see the despair in his eyes. It was a desperation to live or be killed. He was as a hunted and haunted prey because he had just witnessed the murder of his wife and didn’t know if he would fare the same fate. He pleaded, Please spare my kid man. C’mon, please! That’s all I ask. I don’t care what you do to me but please let my son go. His mouth opened wide and David could see that his lips were white and his eyes were reddened from crying.

You...you killed my wife man! I don’t have anything to live for...but, my son! Please, man, please! He’s only eleven! He started sobbing uncontrollably.

Ricardo looked unmoved. He countered, Well if you hadn’t been so nosy and left your room this wouldn’t have happened so stop with the rhetorics. I’m not going back to prison so you’re sure as hell going to die tonight!

The man sniffed sadly and wiped his eyes. Then I guess I have no choice but to accept my fate, he said weeping and shaking his head. He turned towards his son and David could see his entire body trembling.

I love you Robby boy! He said. Be a good boy okay? They won’t harm you, he said glancing at Phillie then turning to Ricardo, he looked him in the eyes and said, I hope you believe in God because you’re gonna answer to Him one day...

Those were his last words before Ricardo shot him dead.

Heaviness filled the room. Or maybe the heaviness enveloped his mind. David’s thoughts were heavy and mournful and he saw everyone zoom in and out and move past him, like shadows in the corner of his eye. He felt as if he were in some sort of zombie-like trance. Everyone and everything seemed to dart in and out of his view in slow motion as if time stood still. Even his very breath and heart seemed to momentarily stop as if frozen by an external force. Guilt and regret bombarded his psyche. He, David was a murderer, he thought uncomfortably- not because he had pulled the trigger but because, though an unwilling participant, he hadn’t tried to stop any of it. He felt he was as heartless and cold as the two other men were and equally greedy. His hands started to tremble uncontrollably. He hid it under his coat. He saw Ricardo high five Phillie gleefully and both men laughed lustily. He heard Ricardo say, We did it, bro. We did it!

Phillie had wiped his sweaty face and nodded in agreement and grinned. Yeah we did it, man, he said then they proceeded to ransack the rest of the mansion, searching for cash and anything else of value. There were no signs of remorse or conviction on either man’s face. No one took heed to the little figure whose blond hair was drenched in the blood of his father and who lay on his dead father’s chest rocking his body to and fro, eyes tightly shut. No one, except David. David couldn’t tear his eyes away from the tragic scene nor could he move. His limbs were frozen as if implanted in the ground. Suddenly, he felt Ricardo’s arms around him. He inhaled sharply as the older man held him in a chokehold. David could feel Ricardo’s hot breath against his ear.

You and I both knew how this shit would go down, he whispered fiercely, loosening the chokehold so David could breathe. All of this could have been avoided if they had just stayed upstairs and not come down to investigate so... He paused and looked at David menacingly.

You know I love you like a bother bro, but if you open your mouth and start blabbing to anyone, this may not end well for you. I strongly suggest that you’d better get out of your feelings real quick and keep your mouth shut! Or else...! Ricardo cocked the gun in his hand threateningly then grinned and put it back in his pocket. His entire disposition looked menacing and David looked at his face and felt terror even though he tried desperately not to show it. Even though he had known Ricardo ten years, his eyes and demeanour told him he was very serious and wouldn’t think twice about executing him in similar fashion if he ever double-crossed him. Ricardo’s glare then broke into laughter and he slapped David across the back and high fived him like he did Phillie. Laughing, he said, Come on man, loosen up! We’re like three hundred thousand dollars richer and it’s all tax-free!

Phillie and Ricardo both laughed at the ill-timed joke. David shaped his lips into a forced smile. The men then began collecting their loot and started to leave. Suddenly, Phillie placed a hand on Ricardo’s arm and asked,

What about the boy, Ricardo? He stared intently at the hapless child. Ricardo hesitated a bit then turned back to look at the sobbing child. David held his breath, waiting on his response.

Ricardo shook his head. Let him be, he said almost too calmly. He’s already traumatized as is and besides, he’s a kid. Ain’t no way he’s ever going to be able to ID us. Besides, I ain’t killing no kid. I’m already tired as is and we need to get up out of here before day breaks.

David felt a huge sense of relief and hurriedly started collecting the bags with loot. Ricardo and Phillie were already fifteen feet ahead of him. He hesitated and turned back to look at the child. The boy’s slender body lay shuddering in his dead father’s slightly stiffened arms, covered in blood. His face was white perhaps from shock and his eyes were closed shut.

David whispered, Hey kid! He gasped as the child’s eyes suddenly opened and his small face turned to look at him. For an ominous moment they both locked eyes. David’s green eyes stared into his blue ones which looked bloodshot from crying. Dried tears streaked his face. His blue eyes looked frightened but beneath the fear David could see another emotion lurking...it was anger or hate. David couldn’t decipher. He hesitated. Kid...I... He stammered because he wasn’t sure what words to say that could ever validate his position or make the situation any better. He never forgot what happened next and this would haunt him for a long time.

The child’s cold blue eyes seemed to penetrate his soul and he wiped a tear with his little hand. You killed my parents and they didn’t do anything wrong, he whispered. You killed my parents and... His voice trailed and he couldn’t finish because he burst into tears. David felt a stab at his heart then watched helplessly as the child mournfully returned to his father’s arms and lay there, rocking back and forth in the darkness...

CHAPTER TWO

He woke up as if from a trance. His head ached and there was a dull, throbbing pain from lying on the bare, cold mattress. He wished he’d woken up from a dream but it was rather his own thoughts, thoughts of the past that haunted him, consumed him. When the past collided with the present reality, it formed a painful reminder of where and why he was here in this tiny, smelly cell with a bunk partner who snored loudly and tossed in his sleep.

He had been here for five years but it felt like an eternity, one he was forced to remember he helped create for himself. The three of them- He, Ricardo, and Phillie had all been found guilty, he an accomplice to murder since he wasn’t the one who pulled the trigger. Ricardo had been found guilty of murder by two counts and Phillie guilty of manslaughter. They had all been placed in separate rooms where detectives had manipulated and tricked them into ratting on each other, determined that they would all go down. The investigators had even retrieved the stolen items which they used as evidence in court. When it was his turn to face the judge, the judge had looked at him contemptuously while his public defender fidgeted awkwardly by his side.

Mr. Foussler, for being an accessory to murder, I’m sentencing you to seventeen years in the State Penitentiary, the judge had ordered. When his public defender meekly asked if he would be eligible for parole, the judge gave him a withering look.

Your client will be eligible for parole after ten years, he had said then banged his gavel.

Ricardo was sentenced to life without the possibility of parole for his role in the killings and Phillie got twenty years, eligible for parole after twelve. Both Phillie and Ricardo were transferred to the Maximum Security at a Penitentiary fifteen miles away. When the sentences were read, David could feel Ricardo’s eyes on him as he stood, chained to his right but David stared straight ahead, careful to not make any eye contact with him or anyone for that matter.

He was inwardly ashamed of himself and no one but him understood the abyss of misery he felt. But to the world, he was a fiend, a criminal who deserved perpetual judgement and deserved to go to hell. He never quite figured out how detectives traced them to the crime but he knew they had been quite intent on taking all three men down especially since the murdered couple had been wealthy and well known in their community. David often wondered how they had figured out the crime. After all, the three of them had all worn gloves...

The following day after the murders, they had all met in an abandoned building where they counted the money and split it amongst themselves. They had then burned the clothes they had worn the night of the murder and drove fifty miles to a lake where they disposed of the gun. Later in the afternoon, they drove to a local bar where they downed shots and drank glasses of scotch with lemon, smoked cigars and played pool till the wee hours of the morning. After they had parted ways, all pledging an oath of secrecy. Ricardo had returned to his hometown in Savannah and Phillie moved forty miles up North.

David had stumbled home drunk at 4 am the next morning with urine-stained jeans and drenched in sweat. He had fallen asleep with his head on the toilet seat. Almost immediately, he started having nightmares. The little boy’s blue eyes would be staring into his, unmoving as if frozen and David would be unable to look away as the child’s eyes penetrated his soul. Almost immediately after, he would feel his eyes being set on fire by the child’s piercing stare and he would start screaming in pain. He would wake up, cold sweating and shivering. This started to become a recurring dream that he would dream for weeks at a time...

Even now, shivering in his cell on his cold mattress, he had started to feel the semblances of depression. Maybe he had slept too long, he thought glumly. He got up and sat at the edge of his bed with one foot outstretched while the other knee was tucked under his chin. He heard rustling above his head.

Hey, you up? His roommate, Christopher’s loud voice yelled from above.

Yup, David muttered.

How’d you sleep? I heard you hollering a bit. Were you having nightmares again? Christopher or Chris as he liked to be called, jumped down from his bunk and stared at David as he sat languidly at the bed’s edge. Chris’ long blond hair looked unkempt and hung over his eyes like lampshades. He had to constantly tuck them behind his ears.

Jeez! I guess I’m gonna have to cut this hair off soon. It’s becoming a bother. He glared at some random strands of his hair that he held in his dirty hands. David could see crusts of dirt wedged beneath his fingernails.

So...did you have the nightmares again, David? He asked curiously.

David nodded. Yeah I did, he said. I had those damn nightmares again. He sighed and rubbed his face in frustration.

He almost regretted confiding this to Chris but then, he thought, who else was he to confide in when his home was a prison and his only friends were prisoners? He knew Chris often heard him tossing and shouting in the night so it wasn’t much of a secret. Besides, he liked Chris. Even though he didn’t practice the best hygiene, Chris was a pleasant, down to earth guy. Tall, thin with dangly legs and enormous blue eyes that looked like saucers in his thin face, he wasn’t the worst cell companion to have. He wasn’t the best either but David had to concur that he was pleasantly entertaining with his silly jokes and sense of humour. He loved to reminisce on stories of his life growing up in the countryside with his folks and two German shepherds, always having a hilarious anecdote to tell. Chris did help make the days go by faster and there was never a dull moment with him even though increasingly more and more, David wished sometimes he could be alone to his thoughts, dark as they might be. Or, maybe he was spiraling into a depression...

He saw Chris’s slender wrists waving a homemade joint he had made from tightly wrapped toilet paper.

Want a puff? Chris asked waving the joint in his face enticingly. David sighed then reached for it and took a smoke. It was strangely pungent and he wheezed unexpectedly. Chris took back the joint, took two long whiffs then quickly put it out and tucked it under his mattress.

Ahhhh. That was good! Chris said closing his eyes as he savoured the feeling of being high. The two men then used an old newspaper and started fanning the room vigorously. It would only take a minute or two for the smell to circulate through the block and no one wanted to chance getting sent to isolation or the hole as everyone referred to it. After, Chris stooped at the side of the bunk, staring into space. There was considerable silence. David imagined Chris was still savouring the after-effects of the drug. After a few minutes, Chris’s voice broke the silence.

So you were telling me about the dream. What happened? Chris asked, turning to look at David. David lowered his voice.

The dreams keep returning...those nightmares that I used to have. It’s messing with my head, he said, shrugging helplessly then buried his face in the palm of his hands. Screw it! He muttered. Chris was studying him.

Did you see the boy again? The one you keep seeing in your dreams, Chris asked, frowning.

Yeah... I did. His eyes are always piercing right through me as if he can see my soul...then boom! My eyes light up on fire and I’m yelling and screaming in pain. David passed his hands through his hair in frustration and looked dejectedly at Chris. I dunno, man. I don’t understand what all this means. Why do I keep dreaming this every night? He complained.

In a way, he did understand the meaning behind the dream but its significance only compounded his anguish and inner turmoil. He was a prisoner not only within the confines of these walls but was also a prisoner to his past which haunted him, like a ghost. He lay on his back and glanced at Chris who was now sitting at the edge of his bed eating a snack of some sort.

"Have you ever done something...well let me rephrase...it’s like you started off doing something for the sheer adrenaline rush of it but then you screw up so badly that you wish you’d never gone through with it. Then you start to wish you could erase