As I sit in this courtroom with my eyes half closed and my mind halfway across the world, I wonder what reasons I have to exist. I could say it's for my family who loves me or my duty towards God's will for me to exist but none of these reasons seem strong enough to keep my feet grounded on this earth. It appears as if my consciousness has already said its goodbyes because only thoughts of afterlife crowds every lobes in my brain. Everything else seems so meaningless, without purpose.

'Would any one miss me?' I ask. The answer is yes, many will – the ones who love me and the ones who hate me. However, that answer is still not what I need to keep me from crossing the bridge to no return.

Life is too hard so why should I keep on suffering this calamity because of people who will eventually turn to dust like me. Living is just an illusion, an illusion we are forced to submit ourselves to for a sentence varying on the crimes we committed as unborn souls.

How I envy the little baby who die before inhaling his first breath. It's such a sweet victory to not have to walk this soiled ground and breathe this toxic air. Why couldn't it have been me? At least now, I wouldn't have to ponder on the reasons why I'm being punished.

I watch the Reel brothers come out in cuffs and orange jumpers. Darwin looks like he's been through hell and back. He has lost a tremendous amount of weight, his hair is messy and longer than usual, thin stubbles align his jaw and neck, and his eyes appear to be digging in his head.

A shudder runs through my body when he turns to me. His eyes seem so haunted, so dead. He's no longer the fun guy I used to know, this is a dead man walking. He sits on the chair with his shoulders hunched and his head lowered.

Steven, him, looks the picture of health and high maintenance. His beard shaven, his hair cut, and his eyes deadlier than ever. He barely looks at me but throws a kiss at my mother who's smiling like a puppy having his tummy rubbed. My mother sits on the opposite side of me, her black hair coming down her shoulders in long curls, her red lips complimenting her tight black dress and white ankle boots. He baby bump was stretching out in her outfit.

What a happy mother!

I stay silent, ignoring my lawyers' words of advice and highly aware of Jenny and my dad sitting behind me. None of them are speaking to me ever since yesterday. I got in at nightfall. Dad sat in front of TV, barely acknowledged my presence. This morning, Jenny came to my room to wake me up without opening her mouth.

I can feel their frustration rubbing on me but I can't say I'm sorry. I can't bring myself to apologize because I'm not sure if I'm truly sorry. I can't help myself for shutting the world out once more because none of them could stop the bleeding. I showed them my wound but none of them were capable of healing them. They just closed them with a pretty Band-Aid. Now, I'm ripping it off and covering it back with words.

"All rise," a man in uniform near the judge's seat says out loud.

I get to my feet like everyone and wait for someone to continue.

A large white man walked in covered from neck to toe by a long black robe with his bald head shining under the lights in the room. His black dress shoes peek out with every step. He settles on the judge stand and pushes his glasses up the bridge of his nose.

"Department One of the Superior Court is now in session," the same man continues. "Judge Cooper presiding. Please be seated."

My breathing shallows as the seconds tick back. My clammy hands

"Good morning, ladies and gentlemen," the judge's rough voice floods around the room in a bored tone. "Calling the case of Jackson vs. Reel. Are both sides ready?"

"Ready your honor." Mr. Rowland – Nina's dad – stands tall and confident side by side with the Reel brothers. He exchanges a secretive look with Steven before they both turn to me, pining me where I am.

"Ready your honor," my lawyer – Mr. Gibbens – repeats. He readjusts his dark brown suit over his slim body as he stands up with a file with my name on it. His cologne is assaulting my personal space.

"Will the clerk please swear in the jury?" The judge continues in a monotonous tone. He's done this a hundred times. I'm just another citizen accusing another one of violating a right – nothing new to him.

The man in uniform turns to the group of six people sitting to the benches next to me. They have no idea how much I want to peel off the sympathetic looks they're giving me. I don't want it, I don't want to freaking be pitied. I keep a frown on, warning away their smiles. Most of them have common sense enough to stay clear of me and keep their affection for someone who actually wants it.

They stand and repeat whatever the clerk is telling them to repeat before sitting back down. The old lady nearest to me smiles up at me, her eyes soft as if trying to comfort me.

"Don't be fooled, Rachel," Sarah's voice echoes in my mind. "She's patronizing you."

Without thinking, my middle finger goes up to the lady whose jaw drops. Mr. Gibbens quickly slams my hand back down.

"Are you trying to make us lose the case?" He growls at me. "These people are the ones we need to convince that your stepfather actually raped you. Have you..."

"Blah, blah, blah, can someone duct tape this dummy?" Kenny asks. "A man getting paid to defend a woman who has been raped by a man. Yeah, like we haven't lost that case before we reached the ground."

Sarah sighs. "Come on, Rae. Drop this charade."

The hair on my body straightens up upon hearing my nickname coming out of her mouth – or whatever she uses to irritate me to death. It sounds so vile and dirty coming from her unlike all of the times Brandon said it.

Speaking of Brandon, my eyes drift over the spectators sitting in the court room – no doubt rooting for Steven to win. There's not a single empty seat and all of the occupants shoot me the most disgusting glare they could muster as they watch me.

There's no Brandon.

"Rae, little sunshine, is going to cry." Sarah teases as Kenny doesn't even try to hide her snickers. "You should have known by now that boy will never have your back."

I return to my poise position with my body facing Mr. Gibbens as he tries to get the jury on our side.

"Ladies and gentlemen, it's our responsibility to do what's right, to take these men out of our streets. They practically broke a toddler just because they could. What lessons are we teaching our children if we let men like them walk freely? The evidences don't lie." He approaches me, eyes straight on me, and his jaw press tightly as if he's trying to scare me. He's trying to mold me into the broken little girl he's depicting me to be.

I roll my eyes, not even bother to hide my annoyance of being passed out as a shattered child. I hear someone gasp from the jury before Mr. Gibbens close his eyes briefly. The old lady closest to me is shaking her head disapprovingly.

"Your honor," Mr. Rowland starts. "I can say without a doubt that we all can see that this young lady" he points at me, "is just sending us all in a wild goose chase. If something like that happened, why wait until now to speak up? Why haven't anybody heard of it until now?"

"Objection," Mr. Gibbens raise his voice. "I believe the defendant should wait until I'm done making my case."

"Sustained," The judge brings his mallet down to make his point. "Mr. Rowland, please wait your turn."

"Hell, can I make an objection too?" Kenny snickers. "This seems like child play. Seriously Rachel, I have better things to do with my life."

Like I want to be here!

In the back of my mind, I have the sudden feeling of someone trying to pick my mind. Whoever it is, their stare is flaming my head. I fight against the urge to turn around, fearing who it might be. Deep down I know who it is but I'd rather not support my suspicions. Instead, I make another unsuccessful attempt at focusing on what Mr. Gibbens is saying.

"Rachel Jackson...broken...her protector...psychotic depression."

I only catch little bits and danm if they don't cut deep in my taped wounds. This isn't working. Why did I think it would? I don't want this shitty type of justice, where everyone knows my dirty laundry.

Darwin's eyes haven't left the ground ever since he got in. Meanwhile, his brother is exchanging pleasantries with his lawyer. He's confident he's not going to lose. Of course he won't, his money guarantees it.

"You wouldn't be hurting right now if you had kept your mouth shut and did as I told you." Sarah's spirit is bathing in the glorious perfume of I-told-you-so.

I can't blame her for anything. I can't blame either of them because they did tell me this will happen. I feel more naked sitting in this room than I've ever felt with my clothes actually off.

I turn around again, hoping to find someone who doesn't loathe me in the crowd but my gaze falls on my mother. She doesn't blink, just watching me with a slight smile teasing the corners of her lips. I almost want to smile with her.

My heart twists in my chest as we stay locked together. For the briefest second, my world is back to normal and all I see is a loving mother doing everything she can to hide me from the evil in the world.

The second ends and my eyes open up to find my mother as the scariest evil in my path. Her lips turn upside down as her soft gaze morphs into a disappointed glare.

I glance back at my dad, wanting to hide in his arms like I used to as a child. I want him to protect me like he has always tried to.

"Remember how effective his efforts have been?" Sarah's words come out as a sword tearing my fantasy apart to let reality slip in.

I feel a single tear sliding down my cheeks. I wipe it off before anyone can notice and start feeling sorry for me.

I don't need their sorry. I don't need it and I don't want it. I made it so far on my own and I will keep going without them. Nobody's going to tell me how I'm supposed to act. I've been the same way for ten years and it has always work out just fine for me. Why do I need to change?

Hell no, I'm going to get my own justice the way I've always got it – on my own.

I watch Mr. Rowland slide around the court room, strutting around like he owns the place.

If they think that's the best I got, they have a better thought coming.

"I like your train of thought," Kenny says approvingly.

I zone out for most of the entire hearing, only getting some words from Mr. Gibbens emphasizing how much Steven and Darwin's actions have broken me. While Mr. Rowland keeps countering with the exact same thought that probably half the people in here have – Rachel Jackson is a crazy child making up a story to get attention.

I knew I should have never let them send me in that mental hospital. It all comes down to that, I was already labelled as a nut case by the time I decided to speak up.

"Court adjourn," the judge hits the mallet to finalize his decision.

"Alright Rachel," Mr. Gibbens brings me to his attention once everyone starts to file out of the room. He moves us out of earshot and begins to whisper. "I think we can win the case but for the love of God please be a little less aggressive. I can't pass you off as the wounded little girl if you keep pissing everyone off."

"Then tell your people to start minding their own business," I retort.

"They can't mind their own business, Rachel." His milky brown eyes darken to the point of almost pure blackness. "It's their job. It's call judging, it's why we're here for."

"I don't like being judge."

"Too bad, get used to it." He picks up his black briefcase. "I'll let your father know what we need for next time."

I don't bother waiting for him to leave before I ram past him towards the door. I push some people off my way as I try to leave this suffocating place. It feels like it's trying to keep me trap here.

Someone from the crowd grabs me in a full body hug as soon as I get past the door. I recognize my mother's fragrance as soon as it hits me.

"This is fun, isn't it?" she whispers in my ear. "You and Steven creating some family drama, our lives were boring anyways."

"Get the hell away from me," I grit out.

She rubs my head as she used to do so many times to chase away my fears. "Rachel, darling, you have no idea how much trouble you're in. You have no idea how difficult I'm going to make your life and your father's after this little stunt of yours is over."

"You can't hurt me. I'm not scared of you."

People passing by dismiss us as a mother having a loving moment with her daughter. It's all a sweet family gesture to stay together during hard times.

"Keep thinking that and next time I'll shove you some place worse than that mental hospital."

"Henriette, what are you doing?" Dad questions from behind me.

Mom tightens her hold around me, making me wince. I can feel her swelled belly poke my stomach. Finally, she lets go off me.

"Get a leash on your daughter, Joshua." She glares at me before disappearing down within the crowd.

"Are you alright?" Jenny touches my arm.

I jerk myself away from her. "I'm fine. I'm freaking fantastic."

That's why I get for trying to do the right thing? Well screw it, I ain't about that life.