The walls were cold.
The baggy jumpsuit was uncomfortable and itchy.
And the cuffs of strong metal ached at the wrists.
Steve hit the back of his head against the concrete hold of his prison cell. He didn't pay any mind to the slowly growing headache that peaked at the back of his very skull. No thoughts ran through the dulled mind as he simply sat on the metal bed, knees bent towards the ceiling, and hands in the little curve of his form.
Eyes blank, he watched guards go back and forth along with the other inmates on his floor. Few tried to start an argument due to Steve's blank gaze.
He didn't mean to do it.
He just wasn't thinking straight.
A buzzing sound occurred at his gateway of a door as it pulled back from the latches that kept it tightly secured to the paint chipped concrete blocks of a doorway.
"Inmate St-c418, lets go. Get up."
Called a guard. Steve did as he was told and shuffled from his position. With rather large height Steve leaned forward a hair so that he wouldn't bump his head any more than he already did back in his cell. Whilst two guards took hold of either of Steve's triceps another closed the heavy gate door back into position as Steve was lead to the courthouse for his trial.
He didn't hate him.
It was a simple accident.
Throughout the trial Steve sat silent until it was the prosecutors turn for speaking, the lawyer calling him up to the witness stand for his side of the story. About what happened that evening.
"Mr. Notch, correct?"
"Call me Steve. Mr. Notch is my father."
The lawyer nods with a blank face. It almost seemed as if he were as bored as Steve's expression was. Yet his lidded eyes were for stern appearance and intimidation.
Steve was just bored.
"Can you recall anything that had happened on the evening of June 1st? Or where you were at the time."
Steve gave his speech. He gave his information and maintained his gaze of boredom through it. That was until the lawyer hit a chord inside.
"On any account, might I ask, did you have any harsh feelings towards the victim? Did you mean to murder him to hide something? Or was he murdered so he could be out of the way?"
With that statement Steve slammed his large hands down onto the wooden podium as he rises to his feet, yelling towards the smaller built male in anger. His face contorted towards an expression of fury like rage.
"How the hell do you have any right to think that bullshit!? I didn't hate him or anything like that fucking shit! Don't you even fucking think that damn shit for a second you motherfucker!"
It was an accident.
He didn't mean to do it.
It was an accident.
It was an accident.
It was a fucking accident.
"The jury hereby states that Steve Alexander Notch is guilty of the first degree murder of Mr. (Name) (Last)."
Right?
