Noxious

49 | happiest pain

Charly 

I had little time to recover. 

From facing a death experience, to being back in the city I had run away from, and knowing I couldn't see my brothers; I was struggling. I was haunted and unable to function properly. I just kept reliving horrific events in my head. 

Every time I blinked, I saw blood. 

I had begged Officer Glauser to tell me how Rowan was. She only told me that he was alright, and he was recovering. It wasn't enough. It would never be enough. I needed to see him myself but I had been told we were all placed under an Emergency Protective Order. 

Apparently, the criminal investigation that rose from the state in which the officers found us, was proving to have difficulties. It was never good to poke a gang of violent people, who would kill kids for fun. The officers handling my case, and my brothers, were concerned for our safety. 

I wasn't left alone for a single second.

Within four hours of my return to the city I hated, I faced trial first. 

I walked into the courtroom with inflamed eyes and red-stained cheeks because there wasn't a breath that I hadn't breathed in agonizing pain. My heart had shattered and those pieces were cutting me from the inside out. 

I sat down in that chair with my assigned lawyer and the tears never stopped. 

I didn't really understand the functions of a court. 

But I had dreamed of being here, just under different circumstances. Extremely different circumstances, and with a signed emancipation paper in my hands. 

Now, I just tried to do as I was told. I was told I was a defendant, and I had to swear an oath to speak nothing but the truth. My lawyer told me to plead guilty to anything but when I knew my foster parents were trying to frame me for an attempted murder I didn't commit, I wouldn't plead guilty to that. 

I knew I had some amount of rights. 

Still, what kid sat in court at sixteen years of age? 

I was a delinquent, and I was charged as one. 

However, I knew that juveniles didn't face the severity of adult charges, simply because they were underage. I hoped that it would work in my favor because if I was found guilty of something I didn't do, it would be a fucking mess. 

Still, I watched with blank eyes as my foster parents walked into the courtroom. 

I hadn't seen them since my foster dad had tried to kill me and something utterly furious curled in my stomach. If there was one place I could fight them, it was here. 

There were officers all around the courtroom, they were here for my safety. I wouldn't face the brunt of angry fists for opening my mouth and speaking the truth. 

That gave me a sliver of hope. 

A court trial seemed frivolous and exceedingly complicated to me. We had risen when the judge entered the room, and then my trial began. There was a lot of banter from my foster parent's side. So much so, it complicated things. 

There was much debate and argument that the prosecutor was forced to call in witnesses to provide enough evidence for the jury to make their decision; in compliance with the judge's verdict. 

I glanced over my shoulder and I saw faces I knew. 

Dr. Thandler walked into the courtroom, he wasn't in his usual hospital uniform but he had a navy suit on. Following him, my eyes widened at the sight of Dylan. I hadn't seen the damn kid since I had sent him away in that ambulance for fucking up my life.