Status: Not done writing this? But like, you know, some things happen. Maynever be finished. ;d
Still Life.
Chapter Six: One Way Ticket To Hell.
Hell did sound nice right about then. The court room I sat in smelt of old, dusty moth balls and sweat. My guessing was the judge was a large, plump old guy with a Santa-Clause beard, but I was dead wrong. The judge’s name was Judge Merez, and she was pretty. She had to have least been in her late twenties, early thirties. It was driving me nuts, she had the same shaped face that Clarissa had, and the same eye color. Did God want me to be tortured? If so, he was doing a whole hell of a good job. That wasn’t really what was on my mind, what was on my mind was the plan. The escape plan. Now don't get me wrong, I'd rather stay in CCJF, but, I'd much rather get more brutal and take on another attempt to kill that skinny little bitch. Clarissa, her with her perfect body. Her curves, oh how I envy her curves. And all of her friends, acquaintances. Anything and everything, I wanted it-- All of it.
“Sentencing of Rebecca J. Anderson, your honor.” Spoke the bailiff. He was stocky, and plump- with pink cheeks. Hell, if this prick had a beard and a bald head he’d look just like Jolly ol’ Saint Nicholas. Sighing, I rolled my eyes as I was ordered to stand up by Santa.
"Do you have any comments you'd like to make, Rebecca?" He added after I cracked my neck.
"Not at all, San- Sir." I smirked, licking my dry cheeks.
"Then let the sentencing progress." He replied.
"Rebecca Jordan Anderson, you are being sentenced for the attempted murder of Clarissa Winston, and will be placed back into the county’s juvenile facility for a maximum of- Two years, then when eighteen, you’ll get a trial in ‘adult’ court, where you’d be sentenced more. Your fate rests in your own hands, seeing as though you will keep up not acting out, no punching the guards, nurses, etcetera, etcetera, etcetera, and if you act like a good little girl.” Said the judge. Nodding, I took in what I needed.
“Thank you, your honor.” I said, bowing. I hadn’t gotten the smirk off of my face yet. “Your bailiff may take you away now.” He motioned to the door. The bailiff, Santa Clause, took my arm and lead me out of the small room. I inhaled, held the breath in, then exhaled. This was going to be interesting.
“Sentencing of Rebecca J. Anderson, your honor.” Spoke the bailiff. He was stocky, and plump- with pink cheeks. Hell, if this prick had a beard and a bald head he’d look just like Jolly ol’ Saint Nicholas. Sighing, I rolled my eyes as I was ordered to stand up by Santa.
"Do you have any comments you'd like to make, Rebecca?" He added after I cracked my neck.
"Not at all, San- Sir." I smirked, licking my dry cheeks.
"Then let the sentencing progress." He replied.
"Rebecca Jordan Anderson, you are being sentenced for the attempted murder of Clarissa Winston, and will be placed back into the county’s juvenile facility for a maximum of- Two years, then when eighteen, you’ll get a trial in ‘adult’ court, where you’d be sentenced more. Your fate rests in your own hands, seeing as though you will keep up not acting out, no punching the guards, nurses, etcetera, etcetera, etcetera, and if you act like a good little girl.” Said the judge. Nodding, I took in what I needed.
“Thank you, your honor.” I said, bowing. I hadn’t gotten the smirk off of my face yet. “Your bailiff may take you away now.” He motioned to the door. The bailiff, Santa Clause, took my arm and lead me out of the small room. I inhaled, held the breath in, then exhaled. This was going to be interesting.