Queen of Asgard (NaNoWriMo2018, Completed!)

46: Moving Forward

The next morning went by in a blur. I was dimly aware of everything from, the sleek white pantsuit the stylist offered me to wear, to the painful, pinching heels on my feet. I could feel the heat as they wrapped my long hair around curling irons and the bitter reek of hairspray they sprayed across my head to hold the look together. I could feel the sticky lipstick they applied as well, but when I saw it all come together in the mirror, I didn't recognize myself. And unlike before, I didn't fell like a queen, I felt like a doll with a string in her back. Designed only to look pretty and only to say programmed responses.

"You ready?" Sif asked, placing a hand on my shoulder.

I shook my head. "No." I shifted my shoulders, the jacket too tight to offer the freedom of movement I was used to. "But let's get going."

"Atta girl." I grabbed her arm and the next second my feet touched down on a polished marble floor. "You have your notes?"

I touched the pocket where I'd stored them. Sif and I had written my statement the night before; all I had to do was stand at the podium and deliver it. "Got 'em."

"Just remember to speak clearly, if it helps picture the audience naked." She sighed as we approached the courtroom. "It'll be over soon."

"Not soon enough," I mumbled as Iet go and the doors opened. I was aware that jurors and other members of the court were staring at me, but I didn't see their faces. All I could see was the face of Talia; the person I could never get justice for.

I took my first step towards the podium.

***

In the shining silver of the mirror, I raised the tissue to my lips. The white paper came away red as I rubbed away the makeup. Several sheets later, my lips were chafed, but the dull pink I was used to. I looked at the heavy fringe of fake lashes around my eyes and pulled them away, wincing at the pressure but thankful they were gone as I tossed them into the trash. There was no help for my puffy hair though, not unless I hit the showers and right now I didn't have the strength as the trial replayed over and over in my head.

I couldn't remember what was said, nor the speech I gave as I detailed my verdict. Getting them out had been easy, a response I'd rehearsed and knew well. I'd been a good little doll. I'd let them dress me up, said everything they wanted and played the role well. I wish Sif could've warned me that doing that would've left me feeling so empty. Sighing, I flipped the overhead lights off and left the bathroom. I'd shower tomorrow, I didn't have the strength to do anything more today.

I sat on my bed, heavy with grief and unable to let it go. I'd done what I had to do but there was no justice in it. There was only a bad choice that let a killer go and a worse one that put even more innocents in danger. I knew I'd do it again if and when I was required to do so, but also knew I'd never be able to escape the way I felt now. My breaths came in heavy gasps as I looked around my little room and my eyes fell onto the picture I had of my family. Our last family picture.

I reached for it with robotic limbs, my focus zeroing in on my father's face. His eyes-my eyes, brown and crinkled around the edges from his smile. The slight gap between this two front teeth that he used to whistle out of when he called me from the backyard as a child. The scar through his right eyebrow that he'd always blamed Uncle Enemi for and the latter always denied it. He was forty hen we took this picture and had no idea that he'd never see forty-one. As I looked at his face, I couldn't help but wonder if he would hate me for what I did today.

"I'm sorry," I croaked as tears washed down my face and fell onto the glass. "Dad, I'm sorry." I held the frame to my chest, wishing for the millionth time that I could hug him rather than his picture.