"Will the bailiff please read the charges?"

"The People v. Smith Case—Miss Tabatha Smith is under conviction of the murder of Lucinda Edmunds that took place the evening of January 16th at the Overlook in front of Lone Isle Forest."

I bit my lip and squeezed it until I tasted blood. My sweaty hands fiddled with the hem of my black dress. I felt like I was going to vomit. How could this have happened? What did I do wrong?

The memory was still a bit fuzzy.

My eyelids peeked open, only to be greeted by a blinding, fluorescent white light, to which I immediately shut them tight again. Seconds later, they fluttered open once more, adjusting a bit, but still aching.

I turned, but that's when I realized my whole body was aching. Arms, legs, everything felt beaten and painful. I moaned softly.

"My Lord, I think she's waking up."

I knew that shrill voice.

"Really? Is she okay?"

I knew that familiar one as well.

"Calm down, she's coming to. Let her adjust."

That welcoming voice I knew anywhere.

But out of all these familiar voices I heard, the one I wanted to hear the most—the sweet, soft and beautiful one—never came.

I used all my strength to sit up and look around. Pain shot through every inch of my body, and I moaned once more.

"Oh my stars, Tabatha, are you alright?"

Miss Hannah, a woman who had been working at the orphanage since before I was born, ran over to the edge of the little white bed I was laying in. Looking around, I realized I was in a hospital. Panic surged through me as I tried to find my words.

Miss Jennie was there as well. She approached the bed and laid a soft gaze upon me, then looking over at Miss Hannah. "Of course she's not alright, Hannah, she tumbled off a cliff!"

A cliff. That's right, I fell off of a cliff.

Renee rushed over to hug me, delivering more pain in the process. As I groaned, she backed away and said, "Sorry. I was so scared, is all. I thought I lost you in the fire."

The fire? Oh, that's right. There was a huge fire and-

I clutched a hand to my heart as the memories from that night flooded back to me. The fire, the smoke, the terror, and Luce.

I turned toward the three. "W-What happened?"

They all glanced at each other a moment. Miss Hannah began.

"There was a huge fire in Lone Isle Forest," she said. "All we know is that you tumbled over the edge of the cliff and was found lying there."

"We thought you were dead!" Renee choked up.

"Renee, sweetie. Will you and Hannah step outside for a moment so I can talk to Tabatha alone?" Miss Jennie asked with a smile.

Renee nodded and walked outside the room along with Miss Hannah. Miss Jennie approached me, her smile quickly fading.

"I'm not going to lie to you, Tabatha," she said, taking a seat on the edge of the bed. "The police thought this was a suicide mission."

"Suicide…" I choked. "Suicide mission? But that would imply that I was trying to complete a task or something."

"I know." She cleared her throat. "You were with a friend, yes?"

I nodded rapidly, which brought on a small headache.

"Do you need some water or anything?" She was beating around the bush.

"Miss Jennie." My eyes narrowed. "What happened to Luce?"

She sighed and looked me square in the eye. "I'm sorry, Tabatha, she…she's dead. She was burned alive by the fire."

My eyes widened and I became overwhelmed with uncontrollable tears. "N-no…No!"

"I'm sorry, sweetie." She leaned over and stroked my hair slowly, trying to calm me down. "But there's something else you need to know."

"W-what?" I choked on my tears.

"There's…no easy way to say this, hun, but…they think that you were the one who killed her." Miss Jennie sighed once more. "They're pressing charges. Luce's family and just about entire fucking neighborhood want you arrested and put in jail."

"Wh-what!" I nearly shouted, tears still streaming down my face. It's weird, but now that I think about it, that was the first time I ever heard Miss Jennie—a calm, sweet young woman—curse. "But I didn't do anything! I didn't-"

Just then, the door flung open. Men and women with cameras and recorders flooded in the room, swarming around me, spouting question after question about the incident.

"Tabatha, did you really kill Miss Edmunds?"

"Tabatha! Were you holding a grudge of some sort against Lucinda?"

"Miss Smith, could you please tell us your motivation behind the murder of Lucinda Edmunds?"

A woman with bright red lipstick and way too much mascara on her eyes to be considered legal got up in my face, slapping a card in my hand and saying, "Tabby—can I call you Tabby?—I'm Regina Spalding, professional attorney. I trust you'd like to take this case to court, yes? Please take my card."

Flashes of bright light everywhere stung my eyes as people scrambled to take my picture. I could hear Miss Hannah, Jennie, and Renee screaming at everyone to get the hell out. But I was just staring intently at my hands, not daring to think about anything else but Luce. Not daring to let the memory of her, the picture of her face, fade away. Hot tears kept dripping down my face, no matter how much I tried to stop them. The word "murderer" kept playing through my mind as I clenched my fist.

No. No, I did not murder Luce. I wouldn't—couldn't—do anything of the sort. She was such a beautiful, young, bright girl. She had so much to live for. And now she's gone. And I let her go. Maybe…it was my fault…for not saving her.

I looked up, and noticed everyone was out of the room, except for two men in police uniforms. And I had a feeling they weren't here to protect me from the crazy reporters and lawyers.

"Miss Smith, may we speak to you?" one officer with a nametag reading "Jones" on it asked.

I didn't respond, just set my gaze on the floor and letting tears and snot drip from my face.

The other officer, fat and bald with a large mustache and a nametag reading "Hughes" handed me a box of tissues that was sitting on the bedside table. I grab a few and wiped off my face, though tears still kept pouring out.

Officer Jones sat down with a pen and paper. "Now, Tabatha—"

I shot him a look that could kill. "Who gave you permission to call me by my first name?" I sneered.

He cleared his throat. "Miss Smith—"

"Diablo," I found myself saying. I didn't know why, though.

"Pardon?"

"My last name. It isn't Smith, it's Diablo."

"Is that so?" He asked glancing at the paperwork in front of him. "My records here say that you were left on the doorstep of the Vasquezville Orphanage seventeen years ago and only your first name—Tabatha—was scrawled on a piece of paper."

I said nothing, just glared at him. He shifted uncomfortably and picked up his pen and paper again.

"Miss Smith, do you know Lucinda Edmunds?"

"Of course I do," I sneered. "That's why we were up together at the Overlook."

He nodded, scribbling on a pad of paper as if he were my therapist.

"And can you tell how exactly you met her?"

I groaned and fell back onto the bed. This was going to be a long interview.

The gavel slammed down with full force as the judge spoke. "We're going to take a short recess. When we get back, Miss Smith, I want you on the stand."

I gulped nervously, feeling my tears on the brink of falling down my face. Regina Spalding, who ended up being my lawyer in this case after all, looked over and saw the nervousness on my face. She leaned down.

"Hey, Tabby," she said with a smile more fake than a Barbie doll. "It's going to be okay. You're going to be fine."

I glared at her. "I told you in the beginning, I hate being called that."

"Yes, yes," she waved the thought away as if it were an annoying fly and turned to look through some papers. I really hated that woman.

Still, I felt like I needed to cry again. My eyes burned and my throat was parched and sore from lack of water. I still just couldn't believe that I actually lost Luce. I couldn't believe she was actually gone. This all felt like some endless nightmare and I just wanted to wake up.

My thoughts spun and whirled around in my head until the judge was back and slamming her gavel down once more. "Miss Smith. To the stand please. We're going to continue the trial."

I gulped once more, and shakily stood up from my chair. The walk, though only a mere few feet away, seemed endless. Once I finally got there and sat down, I looked up at Mrs. Spalding. She gave me her split-faced, fake smile again and mouthed to me, "Relax."

I tried to do so, but ended up failing miserably. I couldn't stop thinking about Luce. Every time she crossed my mind, my heart rate sped up and I felt like bursting into tears once more. I tried to contain myself, but accidentally let a tear fall. Quickly wiping it away and swallowing, I picked up my head to look at the attorney questioning me, Mr. Armstrong, his name was.

"Miss Smith." I was getting sick of being called that. "Could you please describe to me where you were the evening of January 16th?"

I cleared my throat and spoke softly into the microphone sitting in front of me. "I was at the Overlook in front of Lone Isle Forest."

"And who were you with?"

"…Luce."

"Could you please tell the jury your relationship with Miss Lucinda Edmunds?"

"We're just…friends."

"Now could you please describe to me the events of said evening?"

I coughed a bit and looked down at the floor. "I-I asked to meet Luce at the Overlook-"

"Let the record show that Miss Smith was, indeed, the one who insisted upon going to the Overlook with Miss Edmunds," Mr. Armstrong said.

Mrs. Spalding stood up. "I'm sure the record will show that just fine without your interruption, Mr. Armstrong!"

I heard the bang of the gavel once more. I was getting sick of it. "Calm down, you two, and let the girl finish."

I coughed once more and continued. "I asked her to meet up with me to return to her an expensive necklace that she got me for my birthday last month. It was really pricey and I just couldn't accept something like that." I looked up to see Mr. Armstrong beckoning me to go on. "We…were talking and…" I decided it would be best to leave out the part about us kissing. "Then this huge fire came. We didn't notice it at first, and it started spreading. When we finally did notice, the fire was huge and there was no way out and-"

Armstrong cut me off again. "Miss Smith. Do you really expect us to believe that you didn't notice a fire spreading? I think that's pretty close to impossible. You are under oath you kn-"

"Objection!" It was Spalding. "I'm sure there must have been some logical reason as to why they didn't notice the fire spreading."

"Alright, alright," Armstrong said. "Miss Smith, was there anything going on during the fire to distract you from noticing it spread?"

I paused. My only bet was the truth. Sighing, I spoke even quieter into the microphone. "I guess we were distracting from the fire because I…"

"Miss Smith you need to speak up," The judge said. "I'm right over here and I can barely hear you at all."

I took a deep breath and closed my eyes. "I…I kissed her."

I heard loud gasps coming from the audience and opened my eyes to see Mr. And Mrs. Edmunds glaring at me with full force. People began to chatter, which the judge had to settle by slamming down that horrid gavel.

Armstrong cleared his throat and continued. "So you were lying when you said that you two were just friends?"

"I-"

"And whose to say that doesn't mean you aren't lying about killing Lucinda?"

"I didn't kill her!" I stood up shouting. "I'd never kill her! I couldn't! I wouldn't! I lo-" I bit my tongue.

"You what?"

I sighed and looked him square in the eye. "I loved her."

"I see," Armstrong replied. "Love can drive a person to do crazy things, don't you think?"

I growled.

"You know what I think?" Armstrong said with a crooked smile. "I think that you asked Lucinda to meet you at the Overlook so you could confess your love for her. Once you did, she turned you down. You got mad. You loved her, and you didn't know what to do with your feelings. So you did the only thing you could. You killed her."

I grit my teeth, not knowing how to defend myself. Armstrong continued.

"We found a liter in your bag, Miss Smith. Want to explain to us why it was in there?"

This was looking bad, and I didn't know how I was going to defend myself. I carried around a liter simply because I could. That wouldn't even suffice as an explanation. "A lot of people carry liters around with them. I have no idea how the fire started and that's the truth!"

Armstrong smirked. "No further questions, your honor."

"Alright, then," The judge said. "If there's nothing else, will the jury please discuss and present a verdict?"

It only took about five minutes before my life began spiraling downward even more. A man with a goatee stepped forward and said, "We, the jury, find Miss Tabatha guilty of all charges.

No…

"And the sentence?" Armstrong asked. Spalding shot him a glare.

"Well," the judge said. "Since this was an arson committed by a 17-year-old girl, the sentence will be to get her help. Tomorrow morning, officials from the Vasquezville Asylum will stop by the orphanage to collect her in the morning. Until then, we expect her to be kept in complete isolation."

No!

I couldn't believe what I was hearing. The tears came pouring down my face once more as the word kept ringing over and over again in my head.

Guilty.

Thanks for reading!

Before I go, you should know that I probably got a lot about court cases wrong here considering all my knowledge comes from Law and Order…and Judge Judy…and The Good Wife. (I watch a lot of lawyer shows…)

~Nikki