I'll Never Be The Same

After Michael's funeral. everything pretty much went to shit. None of my friends wanted to see me, and my parents still refused to talk to me. I felt alone. My court hearing was the following day. I wasn't scared, or even remotely sad at the fact that I was going to prison. I knew what I had done, and I had to pay for that. It seemed like no one cared all that much anyway.

The fact that I still didn't feel anything for my brother's death was scaring me. Was I just a heartless monster incapable of feeling?



Wednesday; the day I went to court. I wasn't nervous when I walked into the nearly empty court room. I honestly can't say how I was feeling, as I really didn't know. A part of me was having second thoughts about the whole thing, and another was completely numb to the fact that I was going to prison for a long time.

My aunt insisted that I get a lawyer. I didn't need one; I knew I was pleading guilty. And yet there he stood, a grim look covering his handsome features. I walked to the table and sat beside him, staring down at the shiny wood. He went to say something to me, but was interrupted by the bailiff,

"All rise."

To this day, I still wonder what he wanted to say to me. I'm sure it would have been better than what I heard next.