Elsa stared at the ceiling of the living room, a sleeping Miza laying her head on Elsa's lap. Her fingers played with Miza's hair, silk like strands splayed out on the couch.
"What are you going to do if he's found innocent?" Anna mumbled from her perch on the edge of the couch where her blank expression clued her boredom.
"I don't know, go on with life."
"How?" Anna turned the TV off and curled into a blanket.
"I made it this far." Elsa's throat closed with the intense struggle to breathe while Anna did not dare say another word, she simply snuggled into the couch cushion and tried to sleep. Eventually her breath slowed leaving Elsa alone in a room full of people, staring at the ceiling. She focused on her breath, her lungs expanding and closing again, but the breaths were empty-dead- no life came with the hollow and fill of her ribs.
She closed her eyes tight, no more tears. She would whisper to herself in the darkness. "No more tears, please." And teeth dug into perfect pink lips, drawing iron tasting scarlet, blood dripped down her chin and filling her mouth.
Elsa lifted the sleeping child's head off her lap, skillfully slipping out and laying a pillow beneath Miza to support her fragile neck. She shuffled her way across the floor to the dining room were she pulled out a chair quietly and let herself slowly fall back. The three bodies silhouetting Jack, Anna and Miza lay still exempt a breath every few seconds.
She pulled her sweater off, the room's heat creating a line of condensation at her hairline. The tank top did not fail to reveal her perfect white skin. Perfectly flawed by scars and sadness. She turned to the window, the night sky filling with stars, the ones that did not gleam hardly as bright as her eyes rimmed with tears. She played with loose string on the fabric that was not nearly as soft as her touch. She fell asleep crying with her head pressed into the table and her wrists bare of cloth.
For the first time in months, Elsa fell asleep.
.:*:.
When she walks down the streets, you'd never see the eyes of a rape victim. You'd see a girl with high top converse and a beanie. Your friends would call her emo and laugh as she walked by. You'd never see a girl who missed her best friend, her first love... You'd see a girl who never speaks unless she has to, you'd see dark makeup and bleach white hair. Maybe your cousins would roll their eyes or bump her shoulder on purpose. You'd never see a girl with imperfect cuts on her wrists, shed pull down her sweater sleeves, not knowing she pulled on it too much and rounded white shoulders would pop out. You'd probably narrow your eyes and hiss 'whore' under a cough. Because you never knew the whole story, you never read her book. Despite her appearance that may seem juvenile, the nose piercing that would appear gothic or over the top isn't just a fad or an attention crisis. But I wouldn't blame you if when the sun hit her translucent skin you breathed 'Hey paper-white.'. After all, you thought she was just a pretty girl with long sleeves.
.:*:.
Sweat created a thin barrier between Elsa's hand and the pew of the courtroom, her heart pounded in her head as the twelve juror to decide Hans's fate made their way into the courtroom. The foreman stood, clearing his throat.
Her other hand was occupied by Jack's, his grip was almost as intense as hers. She gripped his palm so hard her knuckled hurt, of she had not bitten off her fingernails due to the nerves she would have drawn blood on Jack's skin. She was pressed into his side, bracing herself for the worst.
"We the jury... find Hans Valencia guilty of murder in the first degree and of multiple charges of sexual assault."
Elsa buried her head into Jack's sleeves, her tears soaking the fabric, her whimpers muffled by his soothing touch. For once, something went right. She felt a single thread make the first stitch in mending her broken soul.
"I hereby sentence Hans to 95 years in prison with no chance of parole."
.:*:.