Have you ever watched the movie Chitty Chitty Bang Bang?

A gentle breeze from Hushabye Mountain

Softly blows o'er lullaby bay

It's a story about a father who loves his children more than his eyes, more than his lungs, more than his life.

It fills the sails of boats that are waiting

Waiting to sail your worries away

This movie was my only comfort after my mother passed. Do you remember the part when all of those deserted, hopeless children are sitting in the cave?

It isn't far to Hushabye Mountain

And your boat waits down by the key

I used to wish that I was one of those children.

The winds of night so softly are sighing

Soon they will fly your troubles to sea

I used to wish that a truly scrumptious damsel would sing to me.

So close your eyes on Hushabye Mountain

Wave goodbye to cares of the day

I used to wish that a father in shining armor would ride in on his white stallion and rescue me.

And watch your boat from Hushabye Mountain

Sail far away from lullaby bay

My wishes never came true.

"Hi, Santana, this is Melinda Yule, your defense lawyer. I know that it's been five weeks since we've spoken, but your trial was unfortunately delayed. The current set date for it is March 13th, two weeks from tomorrow. I'd like to discuss with you our strategy for winning this case, so if you could call me back as soon as possible, I'd greatly appreciate it." Beep.

I lowered my phone from my ear, sighing deeply. I just wanted this trial to be over.

I had been anxious and easily breakable for the past five weeks. Fears of the unknown swallowed me whole, keeping me safely in their ambiguous and indefinite stomachs. I didn't know what to expect. When I think about life in jail, my first instinct is to grab the nearest sharp object and thrust it through my lungs. It would be a quick death. I would simply drown in my blood. Much less painful than a tormenting life in prison, where I would have to deal with the queens of crime, the masterminds of felonies, the bullies of bullies.

On the other hand, I was hopeful. The People were on my side, after all. Or so they claimed. It was self-defense. It was all for the better. In their eyes, he was one less disgusting pedophile to wipe from the face of the earth.

But in my eyes, he was my daddy. Yes, I was angry. I was furious. I despised, detested, loathed him for what he did to me. For stealing the angelic purity of an innocent and fragile seven-year-old.

But he was my daddy. And there were times, before my mother passed, when he was happy. When he didn't feel the need to take out his despair on me. Times when he would take me to the park, play with me in the sand, enthusiastically push my swing. He was a different man back then. Abstinent of alcohol, drugs, and whatever else he began to use when she died. I remembered his wide, toothy smile, the adoration in his eyes when he looked at my mother. I remembered the way they would kiss, the way they would pull me in between them and crush me with their love.

There was only one to blame. This cancer. This wicked and immoral Death that claims so many lives. What would make cells just all of a sudden up and attack their own bodies? Who, in the heavens, thought to invent such a thing?

No one ever sat me down and explained to me exactly what cancer was. It wasn't until I enrolled in Biology in ninth grade that I learned the real definition of cancer. Until then, I would imagine it as tiny, deformed creatures that would flow through your veins. They would travel to the outside of your skull and, one by one, push your hairs out of their warm and comforting homes. Demented beings with crazed green eyes and plump, rosy cheeks. They infected my dreams and slaughtered my childhood.

I looked at my phone again. Melinda would ask me to relive the most terrifying moment of my life in front of a judge, a jury, and an audience. She would ask me to describe the rapes in detail. I sat helplessly on Rachel's bed, unwilling to push the "Call" button.

What if I asked Brittany to come with me? She always helped me when times were rough. She would get me through this.

I stood firmly and determinedly on my bony legs. Brittany was supposed to pick me up from Rachel's house at five. I would ask her to come with me, to help me to defeat my fears.

I looked at my watch. 4:13 P.M. I had half an hour to kill.

I left the room and walked down the wooden stairs. Rachel was sprawled out on her stomach on the living room carpet, her homework all around her. I looked at her appreciatively. She gave me my space. She knew that I needed time to be alone between four walls, just me and my own twisted thoughts.

She lifted her head and a warm smile spread across her face. "Hey."

"Hey," I replied as I sat down, cross-legged, on the floor next to her. I gazed at her, deep in thought. She deserved to know what was going on with the trial.

"I got a voicemail from my defense lawyer," I said plainly.

"Oh?" she lifted herself off of the carpet. "And?"

"And I have to go meet her to discuss the trial. She said that it'll start on March 13th."

Rachel nodded at me. "We'll be there," she said reassuringly.

I smiled gratefully at her. She was really the person that I was closest to besides Brittany.

"So…" I felt uncomfortable and wanted to change the subject. "Are you ready for the play?"

"I don't know. I'm so nervous. Aren't you?"

I glanced at her. She had no idea how absolutely petrified I was. Lima was a small town. Every single person in the audience would know that I'm an outlaw.

"I'm okay," I lied.

"You'll be great," she sensed the quaver in my words. "There's something about your voice...so strong, so raspy…it's amazing," she smiled at my embarrassingly crimson cheeks.

I looked down at my knees. I always wished that I wasn't so awkward around people. Why can't I just accept a simple compliment like normal people do?

"Thanks," I managed.

Brittany arrived at around 5:03. I waved goodbye to Rachel and allowed myself to be led down the sidewalk by Brittany's commanding hand.

"Britt?"

"Yeah?" she looked at me adoringly.

"My defense lawyer called me and told me that I need to go to her office to prepare for the trial."

"Okay." She paused. "Do you want me to come with you?"

I nodded earnestly.

"Well, call her, then. Let's go there right now."

"Right now?" I rolled my wrist uneasily.

"Don't you want to get this over with?"

I did want to get it over with. I wanted to get this whole trial over with.

"Okay, I'll call," I extracted my phone from my black purse, found Melinda's number, and pressed the green button.

The phone rang for so long that I almost gave up. Finally, a voice sounded from the other end of the line. "Hello?"

I looked nervously at Brittany. She nodded encouragingly.

"Melinda?" I asked quietly.

"Santana?" her voice softened. "Hi, did you get my message?"

"Yeah…" I pulled my shoulder blades back and cracked my back. "Can I come in right now?"

"Of course," she said kindly.

Brittany pointed at herself.

"Can I bring my girlfriend with me?"

"Your girlfriend?" She hesitated. "Um, sure."

I ended the call and Brittany guided me through the residential streets and into the diminutive metropolis.

Melinda's office was on the second floor of the court building. The structure seemed much more ominous at the early hours of the night.

We ascended two flights of marble stairs and looked for the door that had Melinda's name on it.

It was the seventh one on the left. I mustered up my courage and knocked lightly. There was some commotion inside as someone hurried to the doorway.

The door opened to reveal a baggy-eyed Melinda. Her short hair stood in disorganized spikes.

"Hi," she said as she moved aside to invite us in.

Dr. Pummle, the psychologist who evaluated me that day at the precinct, sat inside at an elongated table.

"Hi, Santana, how are you?" he asked gently.

"I'm okay," I replied coyly. I glanced at Brittany. "This is my girlfriend, Brittany. The one that I told you about."

He looked puzzled for a moment. He was probably just trying to recall our last conversation. Then a peculiar smile spread across his face.

"Oh, yes. Hello, Brittany," he said calmly.

"Hi," she returned a little smile.

"Okay, Santana, Brittany, why don't you guys sit down and we'll discuss this?" Melinda walked to the opposite side of the table and took a seat next to Dr. Pummle.

I pulled out a chair and sat down. Brittany followed.

"Alright…" Melinda looked through her papers. "So let me just explain to you the procedure of the trial first," she looked up at me for consent.

I nodded and took Brittany's hand. She stroked my fingers softly.

"The first part of a trial is selecting a jury," Melinda explained. "We've already done that. My job was to pick jury members who seemed like they wouldn't have any bias with the event in question. On March 13th, we'll begin the trial with opening statements. First Barbara's, and then mine. You don't have to do anything for this. Then the prosecution will present their witnesses, and Barbara will call Dr. Pummle and either Julia or Max to the stand. Dr. Pummle will explicate his assessment of you and the detective will recall what happened when he or she arrived at your house. Then I will have a chance to cross-examine them, so that they will be able to further clarify points that will benefit us. Next, I will bring in my witnesses. This is where you come in. I will ask you to describe the day of the event in detail. Once I'm done, Barbara will cross-examine you. Don't worry," she added as she observed the terrified expression on my face. "She's on your side. It won't be too bad. After this, Barbara will have her closing argument, followed by mine. Then the jury will leave to deliberate, and we'll find out whether you're found guilty or not."

I gripped onto Brittany's hand desperately and held my breath, trying to restrain my obnoxious fear. Melinda looked at me with pity.

"We're going to try to make this as least painful as possible for you," she said supportively. "It should be a very quick trial."

I blinked and exhaled slowly. I couldn't wait for this painlessly hurtful torture to be over.

"Alright. I'm going to ask you the questions that I will present during the trial. Just answer them completely honestly and with as much detail as possible," Melinda shifted her papers. She straightened her neck, gazed at me, and began.

"Where were you in the morning of Tuesday, January 24th?"

I glanced at her anxiously. "Just answer the question as truthfully as possible," she said soothingly.

Brittany squeezed my hand. "Um…I went to school."

"And what happened at school?"

"I, um, I found out that I got a role in the play."

"What was the complication with getting a role in the play?"

I gazed up at the ceiling. "We each had to pay fifty dollars to help raise funds for the performance."

"What did you do when you found that out?"

"I went home after school and…" My eyes darted around restlessly.

"And?"

I rubbed my right foot against my left. "I went to my daddy's room."

"Why did you go to your father's room?"

I scratched my head obsessively. "Because I wanted to take the money from his wallet."

"Why didn't you just ask him for it instead?"

"Because he would've never given it to me."

"What happened when you came into your father's room?"

I bit my lip. "He woke up."

"And?"

"And he grabbed my elbow and threw me to the wall."

"And then what happened?"

My nails were clawing at my arms. "He…" I paused.

"Just take your time, Santana," Dr. Pummle said serenely.

"He brought out his gun and put the bullets in," I said quickly without taking a breath.

"And then?"

"I don't know," I said quietly. "I think I blacked out."

"What is the next thing that you remember?"

I thought back to that horrifying night. "I remember being on the ground and hugging my knees. Then I looked up and saw him lying there."

"Was he dead?"

I whimpered silently. "Yes."

"And what did you do?"

"I left the room and called the police. They arrived five minutes later."

"Good," Melinda looked pleased. "From there, we will have the detectives' accounts. If you answer me like this during the trial, everything should roll along smoothly."

She set me free with an encouraging pat on the back. Dr. Pummle wished me and Brittany luck, still with that odd and dreamy voice.

We left the office and strolled out of the building.

We were walking down the sidewalk, past parked vehicles, when Brittany suddenly turned to me. "Let's go somewhere."

"Where? Britt, it's already dark."

"I know, but we're together, we'll be okay."

I rolled my shoulders uncomfortably. I guess she's right.

"Come on," she grabbed my hand and we ran down the streets, past the suburban area. We turned right and sprinted into pure and untamed wilderness.

We climbed up a small hill. When we got to its miniature peak, Brittany sat down and pulled me into her lap. I leaned back into her, felt the cool, relaxing breeze on my face, and forgot all of my worries.

"Can we stay here forever?" Brittany kissed my hair.

I wished that we could. Stay here forever, away from the troubles, away from the torture, away from the misery. Stay here forever, build a house from candy, have a big wedding, raise two wonderful, beautiful children. Stay here forever with the love, with the lullabies, with our very own little and modest Hushabye Mountain.