❛ 𝐎𝐔𝐑 𝐁𝐋𝐎𝐎𝐃𝐘 𝐇𝐀𝐍𝐃𝐒 𝐇𝐎𝐋𝐃 𝐈𝐍 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐃𝐀𝐑𝐊 '𝐂𝐀𝐔𝐒𝐄 𝐖𝐄'𝐋𝐋 𝐍𝐄𝐕𝐄𝐑 𝐓𝐄𝐀𝐑 𝐄𝐀𝐂𝐇 𝐎𝐓𝐇𝐄𝐑 𝐀𝐏𝐀𝐑𝐓! ❜
⸻ when the enigmatic boy transforms
the redhead's quiet life into a dangerous
world of freedom, leading her t...
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JULY 26th, 1990
THAT WAS THE GREAT ROOM. The room where justice was going to be done.
The big room, with a high ceiling and meticulously crafted beige walls and elaborate neoclassical features, with tall windows on the left side that allowed the light of the morning sun to illuminate the room. Countless leather chairs and long, dark brown wooden tables filled the room.
At the back of the room, on the opposite side of the entrance door, was the pulpit, where the judge's illustrious table was located. To the left of the pulpit was the place for the jurors who would observe and assist in the trial.
The blue sky outside added color to the day. To a day that would be so dark and gloomy. Outside there was a strong cool breeze, as if warning of what was to come - a full gale.
Inside, she felt like she was on a black day, with dark clouds in the sky heralding a storm. The thunder of fear rumbled in her heart and the lightning of uncertainty burned within her.
It was Trial Day. A day longed for and feared by many.
Her presence was so silent that she seemed like a ghost. She sat on the benches in the hallway next to Steve Harrington. A black suit and white t-shirt covered her slender body. She wore some makeup to give a little more color and life to her frightened and pale face, as if she was dead inside.
As time went by, the corridor filled up and they were told by an employee that they could now enter the large room where everything would happen. It was ten in the morning.
As she walked, she felt her fragile stomach twist. Entering the room gave her goosebumps. Her destiny would be traced and defined in that room that morning.
She sat up front on the left wing and Steve did the same next to her. Although he barely spoke a word to her, he seemed calm and confident, as if everything was in his control.
It took a few minutes for the room to fill completely. A few journalists and photographers occupied the back of the room, eager and thirsty to see the bloodshed.
Max, of course, was anxious. Her hands were shaking, as were her legs, and she scratched her palms to relieve stress. But it wasn't just because of the trial. Her heart longed for something more. To see Lucas.
She still hadn't had a chance to see him or even talk to him since the accident. It had been two months.
And then, suddently, her wish came true.
He entered in handcuffs, accompanied by two prison guards and a blonde girl behind him. His entry caused some excitement and an attentive and observant silence on the part of the people who would attend his sentencing. They walked around the entire room until they reached the front, where they sat down and removed Lucas' handcuffs.
