"Guilty," said the red-haired judge as she slammed the wooden gavel down, quieting the soft murmurs from the crowd, her face emotionless as she scanned the courtroom for any reactions and there were more than plenty.

Everyone glad that such horrid Man will never see the light of day.

To accompany the victorious side of the courtroom, there was the silence from the Man himself, who was curled up in either confusion or self-hate, I couldn’t tell, he was staring ahead not even bothering to give me a last glance.

I look down, my thin hands reaching to touch something, as I could only see the outline of the papers sprawled across the old wooden desk. The papers contained the evidence needed to win Mr. Green’s case, well, my case. I feel a small squeeze on my shoulder, it’s Mr. Green. I could almost envision the smooth smile that was tugging his lips, he radiated in his confidence and self- accomplishment.

He’s talking to me in hushed tones, scared to break my silent trance, as he informed me about all of the paperwork that was awaiting the both of us. He assured me to not worry, that it was a time for celebration, but the very thought of that made my insides turn. I nodded, sighing when I couldn't feel his presence next to me anymore. I searched for Mother only to find her staring back at me, a worn out face speaking a million words. Her hollow eyes spelled out how our relationship was going to be from now on.  

Mother’s eyes tracked the Mans movement, and her lips quivered as she tried to contain the waves of tears that would arrive once she was in the comfort of her home; far away from me. She held her breath as she took cautious steps towards me, drawing attention from the news reporters, who were crazy-eyed, and hungry for a story. She felt them watching and sped up to reach me in time, her face illuminating the obvious question. What did you just do?

There was no real answer, no exact moment in my life where I could say that this is what it was going to lead to. But wouldn't that be a lie? I didn’t expect anything different, a young girl with a bruised cheek, smelling like old liquor while calling the police on midnight must have raised suspicion. What could I tell my Mother?

She had heard it all before, she heard it every time she saw that Man as a criminal on the TV screens. She already knew the argument, she experienced them while watching, with dread, the jury staring at him with hate, some nauseous as he held his head high, trying to keep his shreds of dignity intact to the very end. I was in no denial to any of this, but maybe Mother was, maybe that’s why she gripped her purse tightly, thinning her lips as she stormed out furiously.

Not being able to control the emotions surging through her body, slowly consuming her like an everlasting fire. Anger was merciless, gripping its victim like a snake, sinking its venom greedily, never holding back.

The snake had finally caught up to her.

The Man was now ready to go, being held by two police officers, who were taking him to his hell-hole. This was his fate, whether I forgave him or not, this was his final destination. Reporters around me talked loudly, pointing in excitement claiming that only God could forgive him.

Whose God? Theirs? Mine? His? They wouldn’t. I wouldn’t. He wouldn’t.  

God's reaction would be useless to him when he was being shackled like a serial killer, thrown to the corridor of shame, well, his shame. The long hallway would be the beginning of his end. His end, my beginning to a normal life, but with the reporters shifting their attention from him to me, normal seemed too far away.

Mr. Green was gone, probably calling his wife, assuring her he would be home at a reasonable time, but would probably never show up at her door. I wonder if his wife ever felt like she was kept in the dark, although I doubt it, she must have known about his extraneous activities, everyone did. Did she feel guilty for indulging into his lies as a way to protect herself?

Was the truth too unbearable? Did she use me as an example so she could stop herself from exposing his lies, destroying her whole family while doing it?

Maybe she didn’t want to hold the burden of that guilt on her shoulders. The same guilt that could overpower you, leaving a numb residue when it’s all over, it could exploit your deepest desires, destroying whoever got in its way, including me.

I walk out of the courtroom feeling heavy, smiling curtly to bystanders, ignoring the frantic reporters who weren't allowed inside the courtroom, they were desperate for a story. I apologized, I didn’t want to be a story anymore.

I was old enough to pull out my keys and drive home, my fingers curling towards the

steering wheel, scared of the heaviness, frightened of everything else. My shared house was empty when I arrived so I decided that my first task was to sleep.

Unsurprisingly, sleep never came insomnia becoming another problem I would have to face. The TV on my room was turned on and my face flashed through the screen, a bright smile with crinkled eyes plastered on my face, the Man being cropped out. That picture was taken the night before the accident, before I became a punching bag, a defiled victim.

The blonde reporter, welled up in tears as she called me a 'hero', a role-model for victims all over the world. My stomach churned painfully as she spoke, my hand immediately grabbing the remote to shut it off.

What did I just do? I still didn’t have an answer.

I shivered, still feeling his strong grip as I was thrown around the room, then thrown down and... I shake my head. I began to think of my old room, the room I slept in before the incident, where Mother was probably in, staring at old photos of all of us. Mother would place her finger on top of his face, thinking she could communicate her prayers to him, her love, wherever he was.

I closed my eyes for a brief second, reminding myself that it was going to be fine. Life will move on, and Mother will be able to look at me in the eye one day, soon I will be able to visit my father's grave without remorse.

I opened my eyes, the moment of bliss disappearing, as darkness seeped in from every crevice, closing in on me. All the air was sucked out of me, and a breathless feeling washed over my body. The tiredness returned and through gripped sheets, I let everything go.

So just like Mother would do, I sent a “prayer” to my brother before sleep finally overtook me, the guilt too far away to bother me, for now.