katiekitten
The Compromise
Warning: The title has nothing to do with the story. Just couldn't think of anything. XD
Yep, this is the story I spent my whole weekend on. I consider it good until I come to the explantions, for this story was actually a huge metaphor for the carbon cycle. Don't ask. XD
I also finished this at five in the morning, which didn't help the explantions... In other words, everything is good IMO, except a certain part which I will spoil. Read it if you want, but trust me, its rubbish.
Anyway, enough of my babbling! Here is the story...
Warning: My oneshots rarely have a plot. They are just small scenes that I randomly thought up. XD
The fervent mutter of many voices echoed throughout the courtroom, bouncing off its pristine white walls to slip through the thin air and dance around the prison hold. The captive, a tall figure in his early twenties, grimaced as their whispered words twirled around him, taunting him, infuriating him.
“…five times! He’s a danger to society…”
Who are they to judge me? What do they know? Nothing. Nothing at all. Nothing but the lies they have been spoon fed over these last couple of years.
He clenched his fists, snarling.
“What a monster! He should be executed, the mere thought of him running around makes me shudder…”
I am no monster! I am one who does what I was created to do. They think they have ‘free will’, they think they control their lives. How wrong they are. For everyday they go along the path already laid out for them in life. As do I. We lived in harmony for so long, a perfect balance that enabled peace between us. Yet when I prospered, they blamed the faults of their own on me!
He growled, eyes burning with rage.
Will they shudder when they realise that their death lurks amongst their ranks? That the enemy comes from the inside? Will they look back upon this day with sorrow, knowing that an innocent died proclaiming the truth? For they blame the effect, not the cause.
Fools.
He got to his feet, knuckles showing white through his skin. Anger tore through his veins, screaming, writhing, protesting. How dare they blame me! How dare they charge me with a crime I did not commit! Eyes flashing, he charged at the door and attacked it, taking out his fury on the only barrier between him and freedom. His fists throbbed, splinters digging themselves into his tender skin as he vented his anger, his pain.
Let me go!
Again and again he let out his war cry, kicking at the door when he couldn’t bear the pain of his hands any longer. The door creaked under the ferocity, but still stood strong, only a series of scratches and dents to show for his efforts. Seething with frustration, he threw himself back on to the bench and nursed his hands. Small droplets of blood leaked out of the scratches and grazes he had acquired, falling in a crimson rain. Taking a deep breath, he stared at the ground and once more considered what was going to happen to him. A shiver ran down his spine, rippling through his slim frame. The future looked bleak.
Humiliation, shortly followed by death. Even though I am innocent, the so called ‘evidence’ weighs heavily in their favour.
Raising his head, he looked up at the small, barred window a couple feet away. Sunlight poured through, twinkling and dancing across the dusty floor. Bird calls trumpeted as larks bathed in the sun’s early morning rays, flitting past the window and towards the weeping willows that draped themselves near his cell. He smiled wryly. How appropriate. He turned away, tears pricking at his eyes. He doubted that, after today, he would ever see the sun again.
A knocking sound made him look up, blue eyes wide with fear. They were coming for him. No, no, NO! He wasn’t ready, he needed more time! His breathing began to quicken, his eyes darting around like a cornered fox when the dogs were closing in. No… He groaned. His time was up; it was time to pay the price for his actions. It didn’t matter that it was accident, it didn’t matter that he was doing what he had to do. His pulse raced, running at a frenzied beat as the door began to open. His hands fell from his lap and to the seat, gripping it with all their might.
NO!
The larks song rang around him, once beautiful it now taunted him, laughed at him, mocked him as the door opened fully. The cold flash of electric lighting speared inside, silhouetting those who came to fetch him. His eyes smarted, but he dared not loosen his grasp. The guards marched quickly up to him and grabbed his arms, heaving him away from the bench. He cried out, fighting them, reaching desperately for anything to help him get away. The guard on the right cursed under his breath, attempting to pin the prisoner’s flailing arms. Kneeling down, he muttered into the captive’s ear.
“Do you know how easy it would be for me to shoot you, right here and now? You know as well as I do that people will believe my claim of self defence, and what would it matter? You would be long dead.”
He smirked, the intense smell of cheap cologne wafting out from him in waves.
“So if I were you, I’d stop this little tirade right now before I got a slug lodged in my skull.”
His harsh words hit home. The captive gave up the fight and slumped forward, proud head drooping.
The trial is better than death, for at least it holds some chance of freedom…
No matter how small it is.
The guard got up and nodded to the other. Grabbing the prisoner’s arms once more, they began to lead him forward, dragging his resisting feet out of his cell and up a small flight of stairs. Tears began to run down his dirty cheeks, dripping off his chin and pattering softly on the floor.
No matter how unrealistic it is.
A soft murmur above informed him that they were nearly there. He took a deep breath, wiping his tears on his shoulder. If he was going to die today, he wanted to die proudly, standing firm with his beliefs.
No matter how childish it is.
The dim corridor began to widen, sloping up as they neared their destination. His breathing quickened, sweat glistening on his forehead. He was afraid, so afraid. Fear over-rid everything, locking bone and muscle as it coursed through him.
All I did was exist, nothing more. How can you blame me for that?
He started to panic, again struggling to break free. He didn’t mean to, it was a mistake! An accident! It wasn’t him, no, no, no! It was them!
I’m innocent! He screamed mentally. Let me go!
The guards ignored him, only tightened their grips as they neared the unforgiving door. One of them snickered as they kicked it open, entering the courthouse.
“Take a good look around you, filth, for the next time you see this place will be when they cart your body to the morgue.”
Both guards laughed, sending chills down the captive’s spine before brutally shoving him up the last flight of stairs.
He emerged into the courtroom, gazing around at the many faces who had come to see his demise. A hushed silence fell as he stumbled past the tiered seats, broken only by hissed insults as he made his way to the front.
“Murderer…”
“Slaughterer…”
He did his best to ignore them, his temper kept in check by the cold horror that settled as he fully came to terms with what was happening to him. Guards surrounded him at every angle, ruling out any possible thought of escape. It was all he could do to prevent himself from collapsing on that long, long walk. People glared at him from all angles, their piercing stares causing the hairs at the back of his neck to prick up. Reaching his row he walked gratefully down the almost empty row to his seat. A guard stepped up and cuffed one of his hands to the back of the wooden bench, before leaving him in the care of his defence lawyer. She stood to the left of him, kitted out in her courtroom garb; an elegant black dress which complimented her physique. She smiled at him comfortingly over her oval glasses, her grey eyes affectionate. He tried to smile back, watching her out of the corner of his eye. Her brown hair swayed in a silky curtain as she turned back to the front and looked at the judge’s bench intently. She appeared as nervous as he felt, he could see her shaking slightly, gripping the bar in front of her as if it were the only thing preventing her from toppling over the edge. I probably look the same, he thought. Taking a deep, shaky breath, he ran his free hand through his matted black hair. This was it.
“You may be seated.” The order came from the clerk as the judge, tall and imposing, sat in her pulpit. She glared through narrowed eyes at everyone in the room, her pinched face crumpled in a frown. She locked eyes briefly with him, and he felt yet another shiver run down his spine. Those eyes, those stern, green eyes, eyes that were supposed to remain neutral and objective, were filled with a single emotion which barely escaped from being shown on her features. Hate. Pure, unrelenting hatred.
Soon the moment was gone as she continued her sweep. He sank down onto his seat, panic rearing its ugly head once more. He had no chance, no hope. For if even the judge was against him, everyone was.
Except Verona. He turned his head a little. She was sitting comfortably with her legs crossed, searching through her papers. She believed him, she would fight his case. He smiled shakily, looking once more to the front as the Clerk walked up to the judge.
“Case 3973, your honour.” He murmured, passing her some papers. She thanked him and began to flick through them, before nodding with satisfaction and turning to the prosecutor, a thin, weedy man in his late thirties.
“You may begin.”
He nodded, glancing quickly down at his papers and clearing his throat. The sound reverberated around the room as he got up from his seat and walked towards the jury.
“Ladies and gentleman of the jury,” He started, his voice surprisingly deep and thoughtful. “Look with me, if you will, at the defendant. Look closely, examine his face, his clothes, his posture. He looks like he could be anyone of us, doesn’t he? But don’t let that fool you. He, ladies and gentleman, may wear the guise of a law abiding civilian, may even have a good defence attorney, Oh yes, one of the best, but that does not make him one of us. She has a duty to fight this case, and will use everything in her power to persuade you to look the other way, just this once. But is that justice? Is that what we should allow? Yes, you will hear many things today; many twisted truths, confusing testimonies and professional opinions. But in the end, the whole story will be revealed. And it will be up to you to make a choice. The choice. And, hopefully, the right choice.”
He paused, taking this moment to look every single jury member in the eyes before giving them a small bow. “Thank you.”
The accused sank farther into his seat with a small groan, covering his face with his free hand. Despair accosted him, dancing mockingly around his head. He had no chance, none at all. They would try him and find him guilty, no matter what he said. Verona reached over and patted him comfortingly on the shoulder, persuading him to look into her eyes.
“Don’t give up yet!” She murmured, smiling. “This is only the beginning, there is a lot more to go.”
He nodded weakly, sitting himself back up and attempting to compose himself. She gave him another smile before standing and also walking towards the jury.
“Ladies and gentlemen. What we have here today is not a trial of who did what. Oh no. It runs much deeper than that. No, today we are trying to decide whether the act of existing is a crime. What has the defendant done? Has he willingly gone out and murdered someone? No. Has he consciously ?”
She paused, casually brushing her hair out of her face.
“Is the act of existing a crime? That is the question you must ask yourselves. Today will be hard. You will hear opinions, speculations, but eventually you will find the truth. I trust your decision.” She smiled broadly once more, before returning to her seat. The Judge nodded at her retreating back, and turned to the prosecution.
“Mr Carbone is accused of murder in the first degree, a crime punishable by death. You may begin.”
He nodded, stepping forward. “The prosecution would like to call our first witness.”
The judge nodded her approval. Turning to the back of the room, the prosecutor nodded to the security guards posted at the back doors. One slipped out, then re-emerged, opening the doors wide. A woman began to walk steadily up between the seats, heading towards the front. Her lilac spring dress seemed to float around her with each careful step, her golden hair swinging in its braid that reached to her waist. Her sandaled feet made barely any sound on the red carpet of the courtroom. Smiling prettily, she glided up the final step and settled gracefully in the witness stand, batting her eyelashes imploringly as she looked towards the prosecutor. He smiled as she raised a delicate hand and placed the other on a worn copy of the bible.
“Do you promise to say the truth, the whole truth and nothing but the truth?” Intoned the clerk, clearly bored. She smiled, displaying a set of pearly white teeth before replying.
“I do.” Her voice was as pretty as she was, light and soft in a way that made you think of a lazy summer afternoon. The prisoner stared at her in horror, recognizing her all too well. Until a year ago, they had been ‘partners’. Not anymore.
“Would you state your name, please?” The prosecutor was pacing slowly in front of her, keeping his eyes fixed on her face the whole time. She shifted slightly, crossing one leg over the other and parting her lips in a smile once more.
“Lileth Ossigeno,” she informed him, casting a sly glance in the accused’s direction. He scowled back, a feeling of betrayal igniting his anger. How dare she?!? After everything I did for her! He opened his mouth to protest, but a quick look from Verona closed it again. He grumbled softly but said nothing, limiting himself instead to throwing filthy glances in her direction. A flicker of amusement entered Lileth’s eyes as she saw this, and her smile grew even wider.
“Ms Ossigeno has agreed to give testimony, despite being a part of this herself. In return we have agreed that her sentence be reduced to two years.” The Prosecution was speaking again, pausing in his tracks to look at the judge. She nodded her approval, and motioned for him to continue. He nodded back, and started to pace again.
“Ms Ossigeno, can you tell us, in your own words, about your relationship with the defendant?”
Her smile faltered, fading as she assumed a thoughtful expression. The captive watched her with growing dismay and anger as she began to weave a blanket of lies that were bound to capture the audience. He knew her all to well.
“I guess my story must begin, oh, so many years ago. I still remember the day. It was the fifth of April, the day we first met. He was such a charmer.” She sighed and fell into a brief reverie. “All smiles and intimate dinners, thoughtful presents and roses. He captured my imagination. I was in love.” Then, sitting up somewhat abruptly she looked at the defendant. “It was after about a year that I began to become concerned with something…” she paused and looked at the jury “…there was something odd about his lifestyle. He didn’t seem to work; I had noticed that early on. Yet he was able to afford what ever he wanted, with seemingly endless wealth. At first his spending primarily involved jewellery for me, but soon it evolved into houses. Then streets of houses! He bought and bought these houses and never sold or rented them out. Needless to say, I was curious. I questioned him about his fortune with increasing frequency, where it came from, whether he had inherited it or earned it before we met. He would always answer with that secret smile of his and tell me that I’d find out soon enough. And sure enough, I did."
He looked up. In the time he had been musing, Lileth had moved onto that delicate, delicate subject. The murders.
It had never been his fault. All he did was continue what he had always done: ferrying energy to the companies. Except that, when he grew richer, the money he made was money that had been taken from others. Sometimes forcefully. How was he to know that the power companies were doing this, and framing him for it? There were five separate accounts, all of people he had never met before, yet somehow his prints had ended up all over them. It wasn’t his fault. The problem was, his only alibi was that he had been spending time with Lileth. The person who was currently telling her cleverly woven lies to the eager Jury. Yes, he could hear snippets of what she was saying, describing how he had once returned with blood on his hands, LIE! And how she had found a bloodstained dagger in his coat pocket, A rusty pocket knife. Please.
He wanted to scream in frustration, to leap from his seat and yell out the truth, loud and clear. But he couldn’t. He was fastened to this chair, unable to move more than a foot away without excruciating pain.. No, he had to stay, wait, listen to the words that slid out of her mouth.
All of her deceptions, betrayals, they spun around him in a great whirlwind of pain as the trial drew on, with witness after witness proclaiming his guilt. The defence battled well, but it was an already lost war. Finally, it was time for the Jury’s verdict. They stood as one, a solemn row, looking around gravely. The accused sat stock still in his seat, staring at the ones who would decide whether he was to live or die. Time seemed to slow as the speaker, stepping forward, wringed his hands nervously. He was a chubby, middle aged man, uncomfortable in a suit and tie. Coughing nervously into his hand, he piped up in his squeak of a voice and delivered the sentence.
“Guilty as charged, so say we all.”
Yep, this is the story I spent my whole weekend on. I consider it good until I come to the explantions, for this story was actually a huge metaphor for the carbon cycle. Don't ask. XD
I also finished this at five in the morning, which didn't help the explantions... In other words, everything is good IMO, except a certain part which I will spoil. Read it if you want, but trust me, its rubbish.
Anyway, enough of my babbling! Here is the story...
Warning: My oneshots rarely have a plot. They are just small scenes that I randomly thought up. XD
The fervent mutter of many voices echoed throughout the courtroom, bouncing off its pristine white walls to slip through the thin air and dance around the prison hold. The captive, a tall figure in his early twenties, grimaced as their whispered words twirled around him, taunting him, infuriating him.
“…five times! He’s a danger to society…”
Who are they to judge me? What do they know? Nothing. Nothing at all. Nothing but the lies they have been spoon fed over these last couple of years.
He clenched his fists, snarling.
“What a monster! He should be executed, the mere thought of him running around makes me shudder…”
I am no monster! I am one who does what I was created to do. They think they have ‘free will’, they think they control their lives. How wrong they are. For everyday they go along the path already laid out for them in life. As do I. We lived in harmony for so long, a perfect balance that enabled peace between us. Yet when I prospered, they blamed the faults of their own on me!
He growled, eyes burning with rage.
Will they shudder when they realise that their death lurks amongst their ranks? That the enemy comes from the inside? Will they look back upon this day with sorrow, knowing that an innocent died proclaiming the truth? For they blame the effect, not the cause.
Fools.
He got to his feet, knuckles showing white through his skin. Anger tore through his veins, screaming, writhing, protesting. How dare they blame me! How dare they charge me with a crime I did not commit! Eyes flashing, he charged at the door and attacked it, taking out his fury on the only barrier between him and freedom. His fists throbbed, splinters digging themselves into his tender skin as he vented his anger, his pain.
Let me go!
Again and again he let out his war cry, kicking at the door when he couldn’t bear the pain of his hands any longer. The door creaked under the ferocity, but still stood strong, only a series of scratches and dents to show for his efforts. Seething with frustration, he threw himself back on to the bench and nursed his hands. Small droplets of blood leaked out of the scratches and grazes he had acquired, falling in a crimson rain. Taking a deep breath, he stared at the ground and once more considered what was going to happen to him. A shiver ran down his spine, rippling through his slim frame. The future looked bleak.
Humiliation, shortly followed by death. Even though I am innocent, the so called ‘evidence’ weighs heavily in their favour.
Raising his head, he looked up at the small, barred window a couple feet away. Sunlight poured through, twinkling and dancing across the dusty floor. Bird calls trumpeted as larks bathed in the sun’s early morning rays, flitting past the window and towards the weeping willows that draped themselves near his cell. He smiled wryly. How appropriate. He turned away, tears pricking at his eyes. He doubted that, after today, he would ever see the sun again.
A knocking sound made him look up, blue eyes wide with fear. They were coming for him. No, no, NO! He wasn’t ready, he needed more time! His breathing began to quicken, his eyes darting around like a cornered fox when the dogs were closing in. No… He groaned. His time was up; it was time to pay the price for his actions. It didn’t matter that it was accident, it didn’t matter that he was doing what he had to do. His pulse raced, running at a frenzied beat as the door began to open. His hands fell from his lap and to the seat, gripping it with all their might.
NO!
The larks song rang around him, once beautiful it now taunted him, laughed at him, mocked him as the door opened fully. The cold flash of electric lighting speared inside, silhouetting those who came to fetch him. His eyes smarted, but he dared not loosen his grasp. The guards marched quickly up to him and grabbed his arms, heaving him away from the bench. He cried out, fighting them, reaching desperately for anything to help him get away. The guard on the right cursed under his breath, attempting to pin the prisoner’s flailing arms. Kneeling down, he muttered into the captive’s ear.
“Do you know how easy it would be for me to shoot you, right here and now? You know as well as I do that people will believe my claim of self defence, and what would it matter? You would be long dead.”
He smirked, the intense smell of cheap cologne wafting out from him in waves.
“So if I were you, I’d stop this little tirade right now before I got a slug lodged in my skull.”
His harsh words hit home. The captive gave up the fight and slumped forward, proud head drooping.
The trial is better than death, for at least it holds some chance of freedom…
No matter how small it is.
The guard got up and nodded to the other. Grabbing the prisoner’s arms once more, they began to lead him forward, dragging his resisting feet out of his cell and up a small flight of stairs. Tears began to run down his dirty cheeks, dripping off his chin and pattering softly on the floor.
No matter how unrealistic it is.
A soft murmur above informed him that they were nearly there. He took a deep breath, wiping his tears on his shoulder. If he was going to die today, he wanted to die proudly, standing firm with his beliefs.
No matter how childish it is.
The dim corridor began to widen, sloping up as they neared their destination. His breathing quickened, sweat glistening on his forehead. He was afraid, so afraid. Fear over-rid everything, locking bone and muscle as it coursed through him.
All I did was exist, nothing more. How can you blame me for that?
He started to panic, again struggling to break free. He didn’t mean to, it was a mistake! An accident! It wasn’t him, no, no, no! It was them!
I’m innocent! He screamed mentally. Let me go!
The guards ignored him, only tightened their grips as they neared the unforgiving door. One of them snickered as they kicked it open, entering the courthouse.
“Take a good look around you, filth, for the next time you see this place will be when they cart your body to the morgue.”
Both guards laughed, sending chills down the captive’s spine before brutally shoving him up the last flight of stairs.
He emerged into the courtroom, gazing around at the many faces who had come to see his demise. A hushed silence fell as he stumbled past the tiered seats, broken only by hissed insults as he made his way to the front.
“Murderer…”
“Slaughterer…”
He did his best to ignore them, his temper kept in check by the cold horror that settled as he fully came to terms with what was happening to him. Guards surrounded him at every angle, ruling out any possible thought of escape. It was all he could do to prevent himself from collapsing on that long, long walk. People glared at him from all angles, their piercing stares causing the hairs at the back of his neck to prick up. Reaching his row he walked gratefully down the almost empty row to his seat. A guard stepped up and cuffed one of his hands to the back of the wooden bench, before leaving him in the care of his defence lawyer. She stood to the left of him, kitted out in her courtroom garb; an elegant black dress which complimented her physique. She smiled at him comfortingly over her oval glasses, her grey eyes affectionate. He tried to smile back, watching her out of the corner of his eye. Her brown hair swayed in a silky curtain as she turned back to the front and looked at the judge’s bench intently. She appeared as nervous as he felt, he could see her shaking slightly, gripping the bar in front of her as if it were the only thing preventing her from toppling over the edge. I probably look the same, he thought. Taking a deep, shaky breath, he ran his free hand through his matted black hair. This was it.
“You may be seated.” The order came from the clerk as the judge, tall and imposing, sat in her pulpit. She glared through narrowed eyes at everyone in the room, her pinched face crumpled in a frown. She locked eyes briefly with him, and he felt yet another shiver run down his spine. Those eyes, those stern, green eyes, eyes that were supposed to remain neutral and objective, were filled with a single emotion which barely escaped from being shown on her features. Hate. Pure, unrelenting hatred.
Soon the moment was gone as she continued her sweep. He sank down onto his seat, panic rearing its ugly head once more. He had no chance, no hope. For if even the judge was against him, everyone was.
Except Verona. He turned his head a little. She was sitting comfortably with her legs crossed, searching through her papers. She believed him, she would fight his case. He smiled shakily, looking once more to the front as the Clerk walked up to the judge.
“Case 3973, your honour.” He murmured, passing her some papers. She thanked him and began to flick through them, before nodding with satisfaction and turning to the prosecutor, a thin, weedy man in his late thirties.
“You may begin.”
He nodded, glancing quickly down at his papers and clearing his throat. The sound reverberated around the room as he got up from his seat and walked towards the jury.
“Ladies and gentleman of the jury,” He started, his voice surprisingly deep and thoughtful. “Look with me, if you will, at the defendant. Look closely, examine his face, his clothes, his posture. He looks like he could be anyone of us, doesn’t he? But don’t let that fool you. He, ladies and gentleman, may wear the guise of a law abiding civilian, may even have a good defence attorney, Oh yes, one of the best, but that does not make him one of us. She has a duty to fight this case, and will use everything in her power to persuade you to look the other way, just this once. But is that justice? Is that what we should allow? Yes, you will hear many things today; many twisted truths, confusing testimonies and professional opinions. But in the end, the whole story will be revealed. And it will be up to you to make a choice. The choice. And, hopefully, the right choice.”
He paused, taking this moment to look every single jury member in the eyes before giving them a small bow. “Thank you.”
The accused sank farther into his seat with a small groan, covering his face with his free hand. Despair accosted him, dancing mockingly around his head. He had no chance, none at all. They would try him and find him guilty, no matter what he said. Verona reached over and patted him comfortingly on the shoulder, persuading him to look into her eyes.
“Don’t give up yet!” She murmured, smiling. “This is only the beginning, there is a lot more to go.”
He nodded weakly, sitting himself back up and attempting to compose himself. She gave him another smile before standing and also walking towards the jury.
“Ladies and gentlemen. What we have here today is not a trial of who did what. Oh no. It runs much deeper than that. No, today we are trying to decide whether the act of existing is a crime. What has the defendant done? Has he willingly gone out and murdered someone? No. Has he consciously ?”
She paused, casually brushing her hair out of her face.
“Is the act of existing a crime? That is the question you must ask yourselves. Today will be hard. You will hear opinions, speculations, but eventually you will find the truth. I trust your decision.” She smiled broadly once more, before returning to her seat. The Judge nodded at her retreating back, and turned to the prosecution.
“Mr Carbone is accused of murder in the first degree, a crime punishable by death. You may begin.”
He nodded, stepping forward. “The prosecution would like to call our first witness.”
The judge nodded her approval. Turning to the back of the room, the prosecutor nodded to the security guards posted at the back doors. One slipped out, then re-emerged, opening the doors wide. A woman began to walk steadily up between the seats, heading towards the front. Her lilac spring dress seemed to float around her with each careful step, her golden hair swinging in its braid that reached to her waist. Her sandaled feet made barely any sound on the red carpet of the courtroom. Smiling prettily, she glided up the final step and settled gracefully in the witness stand, batting her eyelashes imploringly as she looked towards the prosecutor. He smiled as she raised a delicate hand and placed the other on a worn copy of the bible.
“Do you promise to say the truth, the whole truth and nothing but the truth?” Intoned the clerk, clearly bored. She smiled, displaying a set of pearly white teeth before replying.
“I do.” Her voice was as pretty as she was, light and soft in a way that made you think of a lazy summer afternoon. The prisoner stared at her in horror, recognizing her all too well. Until a year ago, they had been ‘partners’. Not anymore.
“Would you state your name, please?” The prosecutor was pacing slowly in front of her, keeping his eyes fixed on her face the whole time. She shifted slightly, crossing one leg over the other and parting her lips in a smile once more.
“Lileth Ossigeno,” she informed him, casting a sly glance in the accused’s direction. He scowled back, a feeling of betrayal igniting his anger. How dare she?!? After everything I did for her! He opened his mouth to protest, but a quick look from Verona closed it again. He grumbled softly but said nothing, limiting himself instead to throwing filthy glances in her direction. A flicker of amusement entered Lileth’s eyes as she saw this, and her smile grew even wider.
“Ms Ossigeno has agreed to give testimony, despite being a part of this herself. In return we have agreed that her sentence be reduced to two years.” The Prosecution was speaking again, pausing in his tracks to look at the judge. She nodded her approval, and motioned for him to continue. He nodded back, and started to pace again.
“Ms Ossigeno, can you tell us, in your own words, about your relationship with the defendant?”
Her smile faltered, fading as she assumed a thoughtful expression. The captive watched her with growing dismay and anger as she began to weave a blanket of lies that were bound to capture the audience. He knew her all to well.
“I guess my story must begin, oh, so many years ago. I still remember the day. It was the fifth of April, the day we first met. He was such a charmer.” She sighed and fell into a brief reverie. “All smiles and intimate dinners, thoughtful presents and roses. He captured my imagination. I was in love.” Then, sitting up somewhat abruptly she looked at the defendant. “It was after about a year that I began to become concerned with something…” she paused and looked at the jury “…there was something odd about his lifestyle. He didn’t seem to work; I had noticed that early on. Yet he was able to afford what ever he wanted, with seemingly endless wealth. At first his spending primarily involved jewellery for me, but soon it evolved into houses. Then streets of houses! He bought and bought these houses and never sold or rented them out. Needless to say, I was curious. I questioned him about his fortune with increasing frequency, where it came from, whether he had inherited it or earned it before we met. He would always answer with that secret smile of his and tell me that I’d find out soon enough. And sure enough, I did."
He was running an energy business; he would acquire the supplies of energy shipped in everyday by the Sun express and sell it to various companies; Water Plants ‘R’ us, Trees and Co, and many others. But recently, he had been selling enormous amounts of energy to the so called ‘power companies‘, an influential cartel that put profit above all else.”
There was a gasp from the audience as the spectators exclaimed their shock; they had not been expecting such a revelation. The suspect growled angrily, infuriated by her lies. No, no, no! That was not how it went! I never had a business, I never had a choice. I inherited an almost endless number of contractual obligations as a courier. I transferred the energy. Yes I was paid well but I never got to say: ‘no, I don’t want to do this anymore.’ I was forced by these companies, and, like a machine, I supplied them with what they wanted. Most companies would release me when they stopped trading, but there was always the next. And then the next. Sometimes one company would merge with another, and I would still be bound by my contract. I had no choice in the matter, I was the middle man. And they were all happy with it, until the humans began dabbling. Some companies become dormant, yet still I was still bound to them. This is where the greed lies, but not from me. Every person in this courtroom has dealt with these dormant companies. The problem is, they never go bankrupt. The money was just pouring in. And she isn’t entirely innocent, she was the one who spent most of it! That is, until the murders…
There was a gasp from the audience as the spectators exclaimed their shock; they had not been expecting such a revelation. The suspect growled angrily, infuriated by her lies. No, no, no! That was not how it went! I never had a business, I never had a choice. I inherited an almost endless number of contractual obligations as a courier. I transferred the energy. Yes I was paid well but I never got to say: ‘no, I don’t want to do this anymore.’ I was forced by these companies, and, like a machine, I supplied them with what they wanted. Most companies would release me when they stopped trading, but there was always the next. And then the next. Sometimes one company would merge with another, and I would still be bound by my contract. I had no choice in the matter, I was the middle man. And they were all happy with it, until the humans began dabbling. Some companies become dormant, yet still I was still bound to them. This is where the greed lies, but not from me. Every person in this courtroom has dealt with these dormant companies. The problem is, they never go bankrupt. The money was just pouring in. And she isn’t entirely innocent, she was the one who spent most of it! That is, until the murders…
He looked up. In the time he had been musing, Lileth had moved onto that delicate, delicate subject. The murders.
It had never been his fault. All he did was continue what he had always done: ferrying energy to the companies. Except that, when he grew richer, the money he made was money that had been taken from others. Sometimes forcefully. How was he to know that the power companies were doing this, and framing him for it? There were five separate accounts, all of people he had never met before, yet somehow his prints had ended up all over them. It wasn’t his fault. The problem was, his only alibi was that he had been spending time with Lileth. The person who was currently telling her cleverly woven lies to the eager Jury. Yes, he could hear snippets of what she was saying, describing how he had once returned with blood on his hands, LIE! And how she had found a bloodstained dagger in his coat pocket, A rusty pocket knife. Please.
He wanted to scream in frustration, to leap from his seat and yell out the truth, loud and clear. But he couldn’t. He was fastened to this chair, unable to move more than a foot away without excruciating pain.. No, he had to stay, wait, listen to the words that slid out of her mouth.
All of her deceptions, betrayals, they spun around him in a great whirlwind of pain as the trial drew on, with witness after witness proclaiming his guilt. The defence battled well, but it was an already lost war. Finally, it was time for the Jury’s verdict. They stood as one, a solemn row, looking around gravely. The accused sat stock still in his seat, staring at the ones who would decide whether he was to live or die. Time seemed to slow as the speaker, stepping forward, wringed his hands nervously. He was a chubby, middle aged man, uncomfortable in a suit and tie. Coughing nervously into his hand, he piped up in his squeak of a voice and delivered the sentence.
“Guilty as charged, so say we all.”
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