"I can see it now... the true criminal is--!"
A noise.
The world turns into black and white, shades of gray, barely differentiable from the others, and everything freezes into a snapshot that everyone wishes would burn, burn, burn.
Maya Fey stands, her face slightly turned, lips parted with dark hair still flying in the air; her eyes shine with tears that he knows will soon come. The foreboding, familiar atmosphere is something even he can feel; and she, having experienced even more death than he, will have sensed its presence only too well. He can see the silent fear that lurks within her eyes, and he wishes he could pull her away from the scene, because she has already experienced far too much.
The judge's eyes are open wide, his mouth in the shape of an O, not having yet comprehended what had occurred in front of him. He is sure the old man would blink, were the scene not so still, cold. Mild surprise is the emotion - but it will soon turn into downright sorrow, he is sure. With this, he wonders, even with all the cases on murders the Judge has taken, whether this is the first he has personally witnessed in his many years.
And he stands still, having already processed the event in the back of his head and peering out from behind gray bangs as the silent horror settled to pounce on him. His monochrome eyes look at the scene, and he finds himself feeling old, much older than he actually is, perhaps as old as his regular hair and eye color make him look.
They all stare from different places, but he is sure they all saw every moment, and that it will burn into their minds forevermore, whatever the result of the event would be. They would all remember his bold eyes and outstretched finger; the former widening for a single instant before his body fell backwards to hit the wall, then crumpled to fall below the table.
The world became color again, and yet the vibrant colors only made it more real, more of a nightmare; because now all that can be seen by the girl in the defense's area, the man clothed in robes and holding a gavel, and all that can be seen by the statuesque young man in the prosecutor's chair is a blood stain on the wall, as a sort of sick testimony to what they just witnessed.
The world is color again, but there is still no sound; until her eyes shrink in horror, her lip trembles, tears form quickly, and the universe dissolves into a single scream that makes everyone present want to sob and cry for her. He feels the same.
For the world has now truly gone to hell.
End
I'm sorry? D: I dunno how well this came out.. made me rather sad writing it, though...