Schizoid

:.Bad.:

Play the song in the media. It's The 1975 by The 1975. It's just over a minute long, so when it ends, play it again. 

Eight months to the day after the murders, the trial begins.

There are five minutes until court goes into session. I stare at Jenna in disgust from my position standing near the door. She's sitting a little too close to Tyler, their knees touching. Her outfit is too tight; her breasts are peeking out of her jacket and the alabaster skin of her lower thighs are showing. It's really pissing me off... does she not realize this is court? And that she's about to participate in a trial? I look over at Tyler, who is clad in his orange jumpsuit. He should have asked for dress pants or something because he looks ridiculous. I lower my eyes to my own outfit, which happens to be my trademark tank top and jeans. I roll my eyes. We look a mess.

"How are you feeling?" Jenna asks Tyler.

"Nervous," he replies quickly. After a moment's hesitation, he adds, "Kinda bad."

"Why 'bad'?"

He shrugs, picking at his nails and looking towards his feet. "I don't know. It's just that nagging feeling... half of me feels like I don't deserve to win after what I did."

"Awh, honey," the blonde coos. I should have kept a tally of how many times she's said that fricking word over the past five months. She doesn't say anything of substance, just rubs his knee. After the silence has been going on for a while, Tyler looks up at me. I assume that he's trying to ask me how I'm doing. Even if he's not, I don't pass up the chance to voice my irritation.

"We're going to court and I'm underdressed. How long does it frickin' take for you to imagine me up a suit and tie?"

"It's not that easy," Tyler says, my anger obviously funny to him. Jenna moves her hand off of his knee, suddenly becoming very interested in her ugly heels. Now that we're allies, Tyler talks to me more in her presence. True to my word, I have helped profoundly with the case, using my intellect and experience with Tyler to provide Jenna with angles that she hadn't even thought of. She grows more uncomfortable with me every time she's reminded of my presence, though. It's a perplexing mix of fear, annoyance, and guilt that crosses her facial features every time Tyler mentions me. Half of me thinks that she feels stupid for acknowledging my existence. The other half, though, thinks she's jealous.

"Whatever," I reply, "but maybe you could tell Jenna to grab a change of clothes or a sweater or something. Can't you get kicked out of court for indecency?"

Tyler's eyes widen dramatically. He bites his bottom lip to keep himself from laughing. A small part of me likes to see him like this - smiling - although I would never admit it. I've undoubtedly begun to hate him slightly less, which makes me worry about my purpose, but not too much. My negativity has yet to ebb, and I figure that as long as that's not going anywhere, I should be fine. Even so, I'm feeling... something... there are words pouring out of my mouth before I can stop them.

"I've made you do some pretty bad things, man. And... I shouldn't have. But that was my fault. Blame that on me, put that on me, 'cause that's what I'm here for. You deserve to win." I realize that the feeling is regret, with a splash of... I feel apologetic. While I could never bring myself to say the words, I recognize this to be as close to an apology as I've ever been.

Before Tyler can respond, a guard is at the door, telling us that it's time for us to enter the courtroom. He grabs Tyler's cuffed wrist and Jenna and I follow behind them.

"I still hate you, though," I tell her, laughing to myself as the oblivious woman walks confidently into the courtroom.

Tyler is led to his table at the front of the room and is told to sit. He and Jenna oblige, and I stand behind them. The room is absolutely packed, and I start to feel uncomfortable. There are hundreds of pairs of eyes on Tyler, and a small piece of me feels like they're staring me down. Guilt washes through me like a torrential storm. It should be me in that chair, not Tyler. My breaths are shallow, but I inhale deeper to try to regulate their timing. As my panic finally begins to ebb, the bailiff enters the courtroom.

"All rise. State of Ohio versus Tyler Robert Joseph, docket number 2189. The Honorable Lyndsey Gunnulfsen presiding."

And everyone stands.

And I turn, facing the front of the room.

And suddenly, there's no place I'd rather be.

My God, she's gorgeous, easily putting Jenna to shame. The latter shivers in the 60 degree temperature of the courtroom. Lyndsey looks a little young to be a judge, probably somewhere between 25 and 30. I stand directly in front of her, watching beautiful expressions flit across her face. After court has been in session for over an hour and a half, she runs a hand through her already mussed hair, listening intently to the case that's being presented right before her.

"Does the defense have another witness?" she asks. My heart stutters when her gaze locks directly into mine. She can't see me of course, in fact, she's looking right through me, but that doesn't stop my heart from skipping a beat, loving what my eyes are taking in.

"Yes, Your Honor," Jenna says. "The defense would like to call Dr. Mark Eshleman to the stand."

Lyndsey looks down now, so I reluctantly shift my gaze to the attorney and her witness. Jenna looks unreasonably tense as Mark moves to the stand. They exchange a nearly heated look at each other, before Mark places his hand on the Bible.

"Do you swear to tell the truth (the whole truth), and nothing but the truth, so help you God?" the bailiff asks.

Mark's glare shoots daggers into Jenna as he replies icily, "I do."

Oh, God. Here we go.

I understand that she's a lesbian, but as far as looks are concerned, I ship Josh and Lynn so hard. They would be such an aesthetic couple.