A pain so harrowing, a scream so blood-curdling loud from within that only silent tears seem to drown out.
And with that he dies.
Not physically, as his heart is still strong, beating. Inside, however, he has been dead for years. His body, a shadowbox showcasing the remains of a tortured soul. Hearing the jury - all twelve bodies - read out the not guilty . It's only two words, but God knows how much more has been destroyed with much less.
He watches his accuser smile and hug his lawyer, his family smiles as well.
The lawyer next him touches his shoulder, bringing him back. His stomach want to heave and the fight-or-flight response goes off and he wants to do is run.
Yet, he can't. He's dead.
10 months at trial. He gave this his soul and it came back in a coffin, ready for burial. So now, he must forget it happened. It's a fragment of his imagination now.
The jury and the judge brewed his executioner, the verdict of not guilty.
He went through the embarrassment, the names - queer, fairy, liar because they told him it would be worth it. But it wasn't, they were the liars. It was his fault, however.
He should have known a boy can't be raped.
"You just need to man up and let it go."
ESTÁS LEYENDO
end of an era
Cerita Pendeka series of short stories & one-shots. © two thousand sixteen. a.h. cover made by me.
