Punk meets Pastel || ☑

13 Court (final)

Okay soo, i saw on my last page that someone commented and corrected me on suing laws and shit like that

Well one of my friends was not happy about that and she called out the person

Now, i just want to state that I'm fine with ppl correcting me, cus any good writer knows what is helpful and what is hate

So, two things to the person who correct me, thank you and fuck you

Thank you for the helpful info, and I'll use it for future stories to make them better

Fuck you cus this is my book and story logic is story logic and i can write whatever the hell i want, weather its ture or illogical

But thanks again, that was very helpful

Also, i have NO fucking clue what I'm doing, i have very little knowledge on court, and am just using what I've seen im ID shows

slíghtlч єdítєd

They sat nervously as they clammy air suffocated both of them.

They woman Mark used to call mother was now sitting behind the table, a cast on her wrist. "Now, Mrs. Fishbach, what happened that day?" The lady asked, glasses high and snobbish looking.

"I was just returning from my anniversary vacation with my husband. When we walked into the house we heard the TV in my son's room. We went upstairs to check on him, and saw him with that punk. We told him we didn't like him hanging around with this delinquent and that's when the kid attacked us. He broke my wrist and knocked out my husband. That's when he took off with my betraying son." The act was clearly fake to the teens, but the rules don't aply to everyone. The lady nods, a scowl leaving Sean. "Defense calls Mark to the stand." The jury claims.

Mark swallowed hard, shaking standing and making his way to the table to face everyone.

He nervously has a staring contest with the same lady before. "Mark Fishbach, is it ture you were with this punk?" She asks.

Mark takes a deeo breath, "yes." "And is it ture you watched this kid beat up your parents?" The lady questions again. "Yes." Mark answer's again.

"And is it ture you fled the scene with him after the damage was done?" She was close to him, but not to close to be suspicious.

"Yes but--" "no more further questions." The lady cuts Mark abutly from speaking any further.

He seats himself back at his original seat, almost in tears. "J-jack we're ganna lose." His whispers. "It's ganna be okay." His Irish boyfriend whispers back, holding him close as he glares at the jury.

➿➿➿➿➿

"We have made are decision." The last member of the jury announced, standing straight, and holding a paper in hand.

"We find the client, Mark Fishbach, guilty of all charge--" a loud slam of the huge wooden door's snatched everyone's attention. Some gasped, and others gave confused looks.

At the end of the large corridor, was the faded purple teen, a serious look plasterd on his stern face. "Ace?" The two teens say in a link. The youngest there approaches the judge.

"What is the meaning of this!?" The judge declares, demanding and explanation.

"Lynn, Ace Lynn. Nice t' see you again Justin. And, might i add, how ironic you're name is." Ace said, arm's crossed. "What do you think your doing here?" The judge questions.

"I'm here to close the case." He say, taking 15 tapes out of his hoodie pocket.

"What are these?" The man in black asks. "Tapes, from just a few days with those so called 'parents'." Ace said, snapping his fingers and a TV appearing out of no where. No one questioned it as Ace played the tapes.