Lightning without Thunder

The Hanged Man

It has been several months since the concert.

I am sitting in a small room inside the courthouse. In the centre of the room is a wooden table with six chairs. The wooden walls are decorated with paintings and other boring wall stuff. I notice some decorations have been removed. I wonder if they are still removing every magnetic object they can find before they let me in the room.

My court-appointed lawyer sits to my left. He's an older man with greying hair. He has done his best to defend me, but there is only so much he can do given the incriminating evidence against me.

My court-appointed guardian sits to the right of me. My mother refused to support me, so she and the judge decided that a foster parent would temporarily take over her parents' rights.

My foster mother has been nice, which is a big step up from my mother, but I don't think she truly believes me. She can't believe I used to have superpowers. It feels like she is just humouring me.

Having said that, I still don't know why my powers are still gone. I expected them to return, but nothing has happened so far. On the other hand, my hearing is still impaired. It appears that Ilost out on both fronts.

In front of me sits the prosecutor, a woman in her late twenties with long blond hair and blue eyes. She drops a large file on the table.

"Do you understand the terms of the deal?"

The lawyer responds. "I have discussed all of the details with Marissa. We both believe it is best to accept the terms of the agreement.

"Very well." She says. "If you can sign on each page, both you and your guardian, then we can proceed."

I grab the pen and look at the papers in front of me. "I am not crazy." I mutter.

The prosecutor looks up. "Did you say something?"

"Yeah," I say. "You all think I'm crazy. That is what this paper is about. To avoid going to prison, I agree to be locked up in a mental institution for an undetermined amount of time.

The lawyer grabs my hand and says, "Marissa, I doubt you'll get a better deal than this. That said, if you change your mind, I will respect your decision, as will the court. You do not have to sign if you do not want to. We can cancel this and get you a different deal."

I look over to my foster mother. "What do you think?"

She sighs. "Marissa, this is serious. I still believe you aren't a bad person; you simply need help. I'd hate to see you sent to prison."

I shake my head and push the stack of papers away. "No, I will not sign. I'd rather go to prison than be locked up in a loony bin like a crazy person."

The prosecutor looks at me. "Marissa, understand this. If you accept this deal, you might go free one day. While if we take this to court, you will get life in prison, and you will never set foot outside those walls again."

My lawyer interrupts. "My client made it clear that she does not want your deal. So give me a different deal, or we'll go to trial."

The prosecutor gathers her papers. "Very well."

They handcuff me and lead me back to my cell. My cell is small; it can barely fit a bed and a toilet.

The walls are white, and the bed sheets are orange, matching my outfit. I'm not allowed to decorate my cell, so the walls are boringly white. They don't even let me have a mirror.

The lock and bars on my doors used to be steel, but they were replaced by custom made titanium locks when I moved here. The entire facility has been retrofitted to keep me inside.