The group stood outside of the courtroom that would soon hold the person Maelle least wanted to see.
"You're fine, JP," Maelle heard a woman saying behind her, setting off alarm bells in her head. It seemed she wouldn't have to wait to go inside after all.
She turned to see a woman, two teenaged girls and a teenage boy all surrounding a man with grey hair, who she presumed was Jean-Paul - or JP - the man who had killed her mother.
She scowled as she heard them conversing as one big happy family, not thinking of the family he had torn apart with his own two hands.
"Maelle!" A familiar voice exclaimed from the doors.
"Hi, Max," She said, smiling slightly for the first time since she came in.
He came towards her, pulling her into his arms. Even though she didn't reciprocate, it was nice for her to be held again.
Once he let go, she was able to fully examine him. He was dressed up about as much as a college kid could be on short notice, matching Paul in his attire. The blouse, pencil skirt and blazer that Coralie had given her fit surprisingly well, given the fact that Coralie had no way of knowing her size. Coralie, herself, wore a flattering black dress.
Paul placed a hand on Maelle's shoulder, "Are you ready to go inside?" He asked her gently.
Yet, she shook her head, no. This would be one of the few choices she would be allowed to make during the next few hours, so she decided to take advantage.
+
The entirety of the trial was a blur for Maelle, who felt it was more of a nightmare.
Forced to relive the incident over and over again, Maelle found comfort in the inside of her head. She remained in a dazed state during the nightmare she was living. Every once and a while, Max or Paul - the two people she was sitting between - would rest a hand on her shoulder, pulling her back to reality.
Nonetheless, she felt both Paul and Max tense beside her when video footage was brought up on the screen in front of the courtroom.
Her heart stopped in her chest when she saw the familiar figure of the woman she loved the most. Her mother was on the sidewalk, grocery bags in hand.
Maelle knew it was her mother, but, still, it looked like someone she had never met. Her posture was rigid, unlike the relaxed, hippie look that her mother always sported. Her face was set in a stony scowl. Maelle had trouble believing that this footage was mere minutes after she had last seen her mother.
It was a different woman, entirely. Maelle would even go as far to believe that her mother had a twin. Anything to prove that the scowling woman about to be hit by a dump truck was not her mother.
Though, contrary to what Maelle had previously believed, it was not the dump truck that hit her mother, Arthémise Boulanger, but it was her mother that hit the dump truck.
Maelle gasped as she watched her mother, on replay, jump in front of a dump truck coming at full speed, her arms full of groceries.
The young girl let out a loud sob, staring at the driver of the dump truck, JP, who was staring back at her. Maelle moved her gaze to the young teenagers, who also stared at her, sympathy lacing their features.
Maelle appreciated their looks of sympathy, but it wasn't enough. She needed to get out. She needed her father. Most of all, she needed her mother.
She pushed past Max, who had the aisle seat - which, looking back on it, wasn't the wisest move - and opened the double doors of the courtroom.
As soon as she got out, she felt as if air could finally reach her lungs. That is, until she broke down into another round of sobs.
It was as if she was reliving her mother's death all over again. Only now, she had much more information than she had bargained for.
She was certain that in the future, she would be glad to have all the possible information, but, still, she couldn't help but wish she had never known. After all, ignorance is bliss.
The knowledge of her mother's evident suicide was enough to throw Maelle over the edge. Her road to recovery was set back to zero. She blamed herself, now, instead of the dump truck driver.
How could she not have known? She couldn't remember any instances where her mother seemed anything but happy-go-lucky. Maelle wished that her naivety hadn't costed her mother her life. It was because Maelle didn't know her mother well enough that she couldn't save her.
The blame suddenly fell onto Maelle's shoulders, instead of Jean-Paul Allard and, boy, was it heavy.
+
a/n: hey guys!!! welcome to part 2!!!
i dont think i ever mentioned maelles moms name before now??? oh well, it's arthemise boulanger!!! sorry about all the very french names!!!
-danz
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Adopted by Stromae
Fanfiction-this story is written in english- Maëlle Vaillancourt, left parentless by an accident that claimed the life of her mother and a drug addiction that claimed the liberty of her father, had no other options. In hands and under the protection of social...
