There's always something I've wondered about people. I've wondered it ever since I lost my voice six years ago, and the question remained, boggling me even more after I gained it back and had the opportunity for my voice to be heard.
Why do people feel so entitled and self-righteous that they would rather scream over others instead of waiting for their turn to speak?
The very thought passes through my mind as I hear the chatter of those in the courtroom. Voices clash, one person always trying to one-up the other, as if what they have to say is more important, when they're all really saying the same thing.
"Order!" The head judge yells, banging her gavel, effectively silencing everyone in the room. "Order in the court! Ladies and gentlemen, we have heard both sides of the case. Horace Bailey stands accused of committing war crimes against the town of Little Rook under the regime of Sigrid Hakkinen.
"As a member of the Exmoore Militia, I'd like to thank the citizens of Little Rook for inviting me to sever on this trial's judicial panel. We are always happy to provide council to our allies. The judges will now retire to consider our verdict. Thank you."
As soon as she finishes speaking, the chatter starts up again, and I bring up a hand to rub my temples, my face probably mirroring the annoyed one Janine wore three days ago when I screamed at Milo in her office. My hand never gets to reach its destination, stopping short when my elbow jabs Tom in the side.
He fidgets, sending me a look. I didn't hurt him, but we've been bumped and knocked into so many times today, I can understand why he looks at me with such annoyance.
"Sorry," I say quickly, and he nods.
"It's alright." He looks around, his eyes simmering at all the people talking to each other, unable to stay still and causing a ripple effect that ends up with us getting brushed up against and poked by strangers. "This courtroom is more crowded than a London commute."
"Yeah. It reminds me of the time my coach forced me and all the other girls on the Varsity volleyball team into a minivan to drive to our game. She had everyone in there, subs and the ball bag included. Felt like a clown car."
That gets a smile out of him, blue eyes shifting at the mental image. "Still, it's a nice change from fighting V-Types and Riders, eh?"
"This trial is just as important," Kefilwe says from beside Tom. She's only a person away and yet I can barely hear her over everyone else. "The country must heal the wounds of Sigrid's rule. We must not descend into mob mentality and rough justice. If anything, this is more vital than any single victory. That is why Janine gave us leave to testify. Even with all we've done, even after you recused all those patients from the recuperation center, Five, Abel must still prove we are not the enemy."
A growl rumbles in my chest, but I silence it. Nothing we ever do is enough. Abel has literally taken down three of the biggest threats to humanity, and yet people still see us as untrustworthy. We've not asking for much! We're not asking to be worshipped or praised like Sigrid did! We just want people to listen. Is that too much to ask?
From some of the looks I get from those in the crowd, apparently.
"The fact this trial hasn't descended into chaos is a victory," Tom says. He peers over at the man closest to us, whose face disguised by large wire frame glasses and an unconvincing comb-over. "Bailey doesn't look like much, does he?"
I open my mouth to reply, mostly because that's not something you should say when the person you're speaking about it maybe four feet away from you, even with how loud this room is. Kefilwe reaches around Tom and grabs my arm, blunt nails digging into my skin painfully as she jerks me towards her. I slam into Tom, and he grabs my shoulders to keep me from tripping.
YOU ARE READING
To Be A Warrior
Mystery / ThrillerBook 7 in the To Be A Runner series New allies, V-Type zombies, rising anarchists, and a country that can't seem to find stable ground. Yep, that seems about right. It's been six weeks since Sigrid was taken down, and in those times, things have gon...