Where Did You Sleep Last Night? || Kurt Cobain

14. Blood Stain On The Stage

Hedi

Thanks for coming with us June." I told the blonde as she and Stacey held my hands, leading me into the court room. "Did you tell Krist where you were going?" I asked with notable hesitation.

"He won't say anything to Kurt if that's what you're worried about." June shrugged off my concern and casually took her seat. "Just try not to think about that night, okay Hedi?" She told me as if to convince herself as well.

"Hey thanks for giving him the bail money for me. I don't know if I could face him after our little spat." I let out a heavy sigh and rested my head on June's shoulder. "He wasn't too upset was he?"

"See you do care about him!" Stacey chirped in. "Just admit y'all are in love."

"Shut up Stacey." I said grumpily and elbowed my best friend.

"He's.. he's fine now." June gave a hesitant smile. I could tell by the nervous manner she was presenting that Kurt was far from fine. I understand her reason for throwing the truth out the window though, it's already an emotional day and she didn't want to make me even more upset.

The most crucial lesson a person learns throughout their adolensce is not to trust a wolf in sheep's clothing. Even the devil was once an angel they'll say. Things aren't always what they seem they'll say. In my years of living I have been subject to countless people that you'd never guess were some form of sexual predator--- but guess what. They were just that.

This whole lesson shoved down our throats like a huge dick in a bondage porn scene is the reason I find myself not trusting courts or the law in general.

There's an automatic bias when it comes to a suspects chances of being the one who committed the crime. Some people just have the look of innocence and nobody will ever beileve how bad of a person they really are. That notive right there is responsible for so many parents unable to comprehend the idea of their sweet son or daughter being some sort of psychopath. It makes me sick.

Take my mother for example. Many around town look at her as a victim-- a poor battered woman who should receive nothing but sympathy or some other sometimes dehumanizing tactic disguzed as emotinal support.

To some degree, they are right about my mother being a victim. She lost my father when she was pregnant, and has suffered unthinkable abuse from disgusting men who take advantage of her.

She went bonkers though-- she'd take it out on Erin, on me on anyone who would try to help her. It's the classic court case now where nobody is the protagonist. We're all so phoney and I want this never ending drama to be over.

I didn't want to testify today. I'd rip my mother to shreds and that wouldn't help Erin get out of foster care. And I'm sure you'll get in some sort of trouble for cursing in court. I have a trash mouth. Not just during sex. So instead, I sit in the audience between my two best friends hoping that this would turn out in her best interest.

There were alot of people in attendance that I didn't recognize. In fact, my mother was the only familiar face there besides Erin, who was sitting on her seat trembling from all the pressure on her.

"I sure wish you could smoke in here." I grumpily said, my nails teasing the paper of the cigerette resting in my pocket.

"Should have brought chewing tobbacoo." Stacey observed with a slight shrug.

"What am I a redneck truck driver?" I joked with a giggle, my moment of escaping my anxiety was abruptly cut short with the Judge's gavel making its existence well known throughout the courtroom. I took a deep exhale as he began to speak. This part, I was familiar with.