Misfortune

Chapter 57

The bumpy ride to the courthouse only lasts about twenty minutes before we're pulling next to the side of the road, where police are blocking reporters that are waiting for us. As the van stops, reporters try getting to the van as close as possible. I take in a deep breath as both of the officers open the doors and escort me out.

"Why'd you help a murderer?" Yells one of the reporters as they try reaching their microphone toward me. Instead of answering him, I choose to keep quiet while silently praying for my hearing to go well.

The officers guarding me practically drag me up the stairs to the courthouse as more and more people surround us.

"Is it true that you were held captive by James London?"

"Did you take part in any of the crimes?"

"Rot in hell!"

I ignore everyone yelling at me by looking down and focusing on my squeezing my fists so tight that my skin breaks. I focus on the pain as best as I can until I'm disrupted by one man who seemed to yell at me as if he were right next to me. I finally look up only to find a strange man wearing a black hoodie come at me with full speed. Somehow the officer who was supposed to be covering my right managed to get block in by the crowd, completely unaware of the danger I was in. Before the other officers could react to this man coming at me, it's too late. I'm hurling my stomach in as I grab onto it, trying to take in a painful breath. The man coming at me takes his best shot with his metal rings on his fingers and lands a fist straight into my gut. Lights flash at me as I stumble down. The officer to my left grabs my arm and drags me up the rest of the stairs, without even caring about my injury. Once we're in the courthouse, the doors automatically lock.

The people standing in the main hall all look at us as the officer keeps dragging me through the building. "We're already late to this damn hearing and I'm not getting shitted on over this so pick up the pace."

Once we reach two large double doors, the officer is quick to barge in. Everyone in the room turns to look at the two of us, causing me to lower my gaze to the ground. "August?" a hectic voice sounds through the chatty room, recognizing this voice I look up only to see a familiar old face, my father. I can feel my feet sort of plant themselves as I stare into his puffy teary eyes," What happened to my son August?" he says, narrowing his brows at me as if I was some kind of stranger. The officer handling me annoyingly pushes me forward, causing me to slowly walk again. Instead of looking down, I decide to keep looking through the crowd in hopes of seeing her, my mother.

Knowing the type of woman she is, I already know that I'm not going to see her face. But I keep looking up. Even just for the little bit of hope, I pray for me to see my mother. Now that I think about it really, it's funny to say that I think that I've always just been looking for my mother's love. The love that I wasn't given growing up which led me to be this pathetic follower of Satan. I can't completely blame anything on her though, it's not her fault she was pregnant at thirteen by a boy who didn't even love her. It's not her fault that her parents threw her out when her boyfriend stopped paying for the rent her parent's charged her. It's not her fault that a man who did love her later on, ended up hating her child, which also led her to not loving him. It's not her fault she fell in love and had another baby who she'd mentally replace as her first child. Maybe it's not her fault that she could never love me. I guess it's mine.

As I keep looking through the crowd for her face, I give up. The only people I see are strangers, maybe the families of James's victims. The officer handling me urges me to the closest seat right by the judges' seat. Seeing as this was the final hearing of the case, I guess everything I say leads to the end of our story.

I sit down and take a look up at all the people in the courtroom, finally noticing the man who's been staring at me nonstop. James leans forward in his chair with his hand propping up his chin as if he was bored by everything. Though he looked bored, he just kept staring at me. The worst thing about his stare was the small smirk that appeared on his lips as he noticed my glare.