AccusationA Story by BeaIt wasn’t me. That’s all I can think about as I walk up to the stand, the sea of faces blending into one before me. I don’t feel anything as I stand there, it’s like the world is behind a sheet of thick, translucent glass. Completely dissociated. That’s all I am these days, separated. Isolated, even. But separate from the world. Not by my own choosing, of course. But by his. It’s all his fault. It was him, I know that. You know that, right? But no one else does. No one even knows that there’s me and him, both of us in here. They think it’s just me. But it’s not, there’s him too, it’s him that did it. I’m innocent, I swear it. I never laid a finger on her, let alone what he did. It was all him. It was always him. I ain’t never touched nobody. But to them we’re the same person. Not two sharing. I stand and I wait, wait for their judgement. Wait to be sentenced. They all think I’m guilty. Who wouldn’t, with a crime like that levied against me? The whole world thinks I’m guilty, every last one of them. Wouldn’t be surprised if there’s a public outrage after this, claiming that I’ haven’t been given a harsh enough punishment. They’ll want my blood, they will. Won’t be satisfied with me behind bars. They’ll want me dead. Always do, cases like this. Want to bring hanging back, or that chair jobby they have over in the states. F**k this. All this waiting and standing is making me anxious. Could they just get this s****y talking and talking over with and tell me I’m to be locked up for his crimes? I couldn’t give a damn about this legal jargon, I just want to get this over with. Guilty. Knew it. © 2013 BeaAuthor's Note
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Added on January 26, 2013 Last Updated on January 26, 2013 Author |