Framed

C O U R T ~

I was interrogated for hours, but I had only told them the straight up truth, and they didn't believe me.

I replay the moment unwillingly again and again in my head, the moment where I stood in court and they had told me I was guilty for the murder of Charlotte Denbar and that I would spend the next 25-30 years locked up in a prison cell.

At first it was okay, then it began to get psychotic. I shared a cell with myself and I felt my sanity slowly drift away from me as every second passed. The moment I was "moved" in with John was what I thought thrilling. They never told me where I was going or what was happening - then they shoved me in a cell again, but with one added inmate.

I slid myself down in the corner. I needed someone to talk to, the silence was deafening and I was petrified. I was stuck in a room with a potential murderer. He was laid down on the bed facing the wall. He wasn't awake but I knew he sensed me.

He knew I was there.

When he awoke, still no word was uttered. He had a strongly built figure, that of a body builder and a arm filled with violent and explicit tattoos. I dared not speak, as only I could imagine the words that would come out of my mouth, never mind his.

The clothes on his body were ripped, and i could see that it had been sewen several times from the black thread. He stared right at me, I could only dread what was going to happen next. My mouth remained speechless, petrified to utter even a measly cough and my hands began to shake uncontrollably. He spotted this, staring right at my hands with his piercing eyes. "Crap...", I thought.