I'm so sorry for the late update! I have two excuses: Fallout 4 XD and that I've been thinking a lot about whether or not write this part on the story. You're probably not gonna like it but it's seemed like the 'real' thing to do. I'm sorry u.u
Disclaimer: I do not own Attack on Titan.
EIGHTY-EIGHT
-"He's… dead?"- I could barely hear my voice.
Wait… why're you surprised? Didn't you want him dead in the first place? Come on, cheer up, you killed him! Now he won't hurt you or Marco anymore!
Did I... really killed him? -"W-w-wait… is he really dead?"- And my voice was even shaky. I couldn't believe this. I just… come on, I wanted him dead but not dead, dead. That was just, um… a whim, or just a sudden impulse… nothing serious…
You're not making any sense.
But come on, it really couldn't have been me. I didn't really snap his neck… right? I'm not that strong -or crazy, at that. I'm not capable. Yeah, this must be some kind of bluff to scare me.
The nurse just nodded, gazing down and avoiding looking at me. She's not telling us something and to be honest, I wanted it to stay like that. I don't want to keep talking about this. It puts me on edge. It scares me of… myself.
No one said a thing for the following minutes. Marco was stunned. He didn't look at me, he tried not to but why? Do I have something in my face or what? The bruises have healed so what's the matter?
I started to notice that no one wanted to look at me until Celine sighed and stepped up, -"How… did he perished?"
The nurse gulped and gaped her mouth just barely, -"His neck was um, delicate and crippled. When the boy woke up and tried to stand up, he… forced it and… snapped it."
A huge wave of relief washed me as I settled cozily on the bed, brushing any concern I had of this issue, -"He killed himself then."- I stated. What an idiot.
-"Technically…"- Murmured Celine, a hand on her chin, thoughtful.
-"No, not technically,"- Zackly barged in, already aware of the news, -"You are a murderer, Kirshtein. It is a fact."
My heart skipped many beats and I sat back up abruptly, -"No way, old man! Didn't you hear the news correctly? He snapped his neck when he forced himself up! That's a fact!"- God, I want this to end. I hate this conversation and I don't like where it's leading to.
Zackly scoffed and looked down to me like I was pleb and had no idea what I was talking about, -"Are you implying that you had nothing to do with it? Who, do so remind me, left him on that particular state in the first place, hm? Because I myself examined that wound and it was clearly intended to kill. In all my years as a doctor, I have never seen such a severe wound."
I froze. I literally froze as his words echoed in my head.
Intended to kill…
No, no, no… that's impossible. I would never do something like that! Me? Kill? No way! That's… that's inhumane!
Don't deny it, Jean. You wanted him dead and you killed him.
Unwantedly, I stared to remember the fight and how… wrathful I was. I started to remember the truth. I did want him dead. I did want him to pay with his life for everything that he has done and deep within me, I regret nothing. In the pits of my heart, I was satisfied and glad when I heard the news, I was-
Oh no… no no no no…
-"It seems your dear lover agrees with me."- Spoke Zackly out of the blue, with a proud grin, as I mulled over my thoughts.
Marco gasped suddenly and shook his head vigorously, -"N-no, I didn't say that!"
-"You did not had to."- Replied Zackly.
I looked at Marco and watched his expression. He wants to support me but I saw fear there. He thinks Zackly was right, that I'm a murderer, that I killed Frank because I wanted to. He was there. He experienced the whole incident firsthand. I know him and I know he was trying to avoid my gaze… for that very same reason, -"Y-you're wrong, doctor."- But he insisted, lying to all of us and himself to defend me.
-"Spare me the lies, boy,"- Said the old man, turning to Celine next, -"You know what must be done."
Celine's eye widened.
Fear shook me off of staring at Marco's devastated expression, -"Wh-what is it? What are you going to do to me?"
Zackly gazed at me with intensity, -"He is dangerous, volatile and boisterous. I hope you do the right thing before he snaps everyone he abhors' neck."
The old man left after that even though I called out to him several times, asking what the hell he was talking about. I turned my attention to Celine next but she just looked away and paced around. I want answers. Now, -"What was he talking about? Tell me!"
Marco was quiet. He had an idea of what was on question here but he didn't word it out. He didn't want to.
But the more I yelled and got madder, I realized what the old man was talking about and it terrified me: prison. He was talking about taking me to prison because I committed a crime, -"Jean, I need you to stay calm, alright?"
My dad was awfully quiet too. Too quiet, too frozen. He had a dreadful expression, like he couldn't believe or accept what was going on, like he wanted to bail out and forget everything discussed here. He hadn't known me and Marco had leaked out to school and he hadn't known about Frank's appearance there or my latest hits against the racists. He hadn't known the fights I've gotten into, overall, and he certainly hadn't known I'd go as far as breaking people's noses and necks to defend myself and Marco. He hadn't known I was so violent because, for starters, I wasn't. Back when I was a kid, I was bullied too and I often tried to defend myself but I ended up giving so Dad believed I had given up before all this. He's currently processing it all –or trying to.
-"You want me to calm down?"- I raised my voice, too shaken up and scared of… whatever will happen to me. Zackly was doing something out there and I had no idea of what! He might be reporting me to the police or something! -"Fuck, he's out there doing God-knows-what to me and you want me to calm down?!"- I've never spoken to Celine like this. Marco was shaking beside me.
-"He's not going to do anything, Jean! I will!"- Celine yelled, snapping all of us out of our trance, even Dad.
-"Celine, please…,"- Dad was shaking his head, -"There has to be another way…"
-"There is no other way…"
-"For fucks sake, what is it?"- I snapped, unable to stand the secrecy even when I'm standing right in front of them. It was obvious, really, but I didn't want to accept any of it. I just ignored it.
-"We've no doubt you'll be put on trial, Jean."
Frank's father is going to demand me.
I'm boned.
The odds weren't in my favor. They never are.
My own doctor wants to imprison me. He's on Frank's father and his pals' side, believing I was a murderer on the loose. He completely ignores what that man's son did to us, though, and it infuriates me. On the other hand, there's Marco, his mom, my dad and my friends supporting me, believing I was defending myself. Dad said mom was supporting me too but she's in a grave, not here in the court with us in front of a very pissed and bitter group of judges –which were all looking at me like I was some kind of monster, glaring at me to death. They all hated me and wished to see me rotting in prison. Their faces said it all but none of those beats Francis', Frank's dad. He was oh so close to the judge and had this unique expression that stood out most from his pals'. It was intense, worse than Levi's, and it was rife with hate. It sent cold, dreadful shivers run down my spine and it made me shrink back on where I was standing. I swear, he's about to pull out a gun from his ass and shoot me square in the head any time now.
I don't know what to believe. I don't know what I was doing then -both, maybe. I wanted to believe I was solely defending myself but I knew better and yet I still deny it like a coward. I didn't know that Jean and it scared me.
The tall guy beside me had this fucking strong perfume that just burned my nose as I tried to sidestep away from him but, unfortunately, he was my lawyer and he had to be beside me whether I like it or not. A guy who didn't even knew me was going to defend me, great. Everyone prattled on as we waited for the judges and I heard someone psst me. I looked over my shoulder and saw Celine leaning close to me, -"How are you feeling?"- She asked, probably noticing how nervous and terrified I was. I want to go home, I want to be with Marco and forget all this. The uncertainty of what will happen to me here today was killing me.
-"My throat's sore."- I whined. I haven't healed fully but Francis didn't care. I still had the hospital's robe, believe it or not, but at least I had pants on.
-"It's… going to alright, Jean. We're with you on this, okay?"- She spoke, her voice lapsing, doubtful.
I just looked past her, -"Is… Marco okay?"
Celine sighed deeply, her expression falling, -"He's… very worried."
A bitter and yet warm sensation shaped my lips into a very rueful, thin and small smile, -"Tell him I… I love him."
Celine nodded and gaped her mouth to speak but the judge coughed, cueing the commence of this… whole thing. I was told not speak unless I was ordered to, that whatever I say will be used against me. I gulped and nodded, my mouth flat. The second it began, my stomach churned, making me wince and wish for this to be just one heck of a nightmare and wishing for this to be over when I open my eyes, but no. Instead, it was painfully taking a long time. I heard the exchanges between my lawyer and the judge, I heard each of them spit on my name, saying I was a criminal and that I should be rotting in a cell for the rest of my life. I knew my own lawyer agreed with them and Celine was mad at him for the horrible work he was doing. Each of my friends were asked to stand up and say something and some of them… well, lied a bit. The only one who spoke genuinely was Levi, saying that I often resorted to violence to defend myself and Marco, especially since my aggressors resorted to violence as well. He said that it was only natural that I responded like that but none of the judges bought that. None of them.
Then came my only alibi… Marco. The only one who was with me during the whole incident. He stood up at the mention of his name and the judge asked him if I've always been so… out of control. Marco breathed deeply.
Don't lie, Marco… or this isn't going to end well for us.
-"No, sir."- He replied, firmly on place with his hands on his back.
Shit. He's dead-set on defending me, at all cost, even… even if it drags him to prison too. It made my chest ache because he's the last person I wanted to see in prison. I want to see him in his home, safe and healthy. You don't deserve a sentence in prison, Marco. I do.
-"Is that so?"- The judge quirked an eyebrow and asked my father next about my behavior. Dad admitted he spent little time with me when I was a kid, that I was under the care of my mother most of time. Since she's dead, Marco's lie was secured –and it wasn't a total lie either. I mean, I wasn't so crazy when kid… right? Sure, forget the time you broke a little boy's nose when he molested Marco, -"Tell me, young one, did he murdered this man's son?"- The judge gestured towards Francis.
Marco went stiff as he stared at Francis. I bet the guy unnerved him but even so, he didn't shrank back like I did, -"He was defending-"
-"Spare me the common excuse,"- The judge interrupted him, lifting one hand, -"Did he killed him, yes or no?"
Marco stood quiet for a moment, his expression faltering for a second until he gulped and looked straight at the judge, -"No… sir."
The judge fumbled his desk and pulled several x-ray plates of a… seriously fucked up neck. It was like it was burst open from the inside and I could see the fracture perfectly. It was ungracefully and nastily crooked upwards. It was… Frank's neck. The wound. I… I did that? My body froze as I tried to pull my eyes off the picture but they were carved. You did that, Jean. You're a killer.
-"Observe this,"- With a pen, the judge pointed at the plate, -"This wound was meant to murder and he did it. He killed this boy."- He pointed at me next.
-"But he died afterwards in the hospital. It's not-"- Marco was rising his voice bit by bit.
-"What happened afterwards does not matter. What happened before and what, or who, caused it matters. You cannot use that excuse to atone this murderer,"- The judge didn't liked Marco's increase of his tone, -"And who caused it? He did. No matter how you see it, he is responsible. The boy's blood is in his hands and he needs to be punished!"
My eyes widened slowly as I started to concede her point, reluctantly. I didn't want to but I did and it scared me. My big mouth gaped in defense anyway, trying to tell myself that I wasn't a murderer, that it wasn't my fault, that… another human's blood is in my hands, -"We were defending ourselves! You weren't there, you don't understand us!"- I snapped. I couldn't take it anymore; I couldn't hear them anymore. I'm shaking, I'm literally shaking and I can't stop my mouth. I ignored those who tried to warn me, -"He… he had a gun! He was going to kill us and he shot him! What was I supposed to do, huh? Tell me!"
The judge stayed quiet for a moment and Francis suddenly leaned in close to him, whispering something to his ear. I gasped, realizing that he was pulling the strings here. He was manipulating this court to his favor. The judge nodded and coughed, -"Violence breeds violence, Kirshtein. You do not solve an issue with death. Your response was uncalled for. You are part of the problem."
-"Are you serious? He started everything and you blame me?!"- Just… stop, Jean. Face it. You did it. It's your fault. You're going to prison. Yelling will just make it worse.
-"No, you started everything, cutthroat,"- Francis finally spoke to me, standing up and all, -"Since the moment you decided to play hero-hood and pretend you care about others. You caused havoc in Trost's high school and wasted essential time for teachers. You picked fights whether you could and you… killed my son. You are going to pay. I will make sure of that."
My friends started to argue back. My Dad was frozen. Marco was holding back tears and Celine was trying to comfort him. This… this doesn't look good.
Francis caught my tongue. He was serious, far more serious than Frank was. I was too struck to notice them chattering among themselves, agreeing on something, too stuck on Francis glare, and it wasn't until the judge slammed the little hammer on the table that I snapped awake and his next words just… well, let's just say I rather be dead and saluting Frank than being here, -"I have come to a decision,"- He cleared his throat as he looked down to me with disdain, -"Jean Kirshtein, you are hereby sentence to prison… for five months."
No… no… no… no…
-"No!"- Marco yelled, his eyes already swelled with tears, -"That's unfair! You can't do this to him!"- Celine struggled to calm him.
I don't want to… I don't want to go to prison…
Francis argued with the judge, saying that I deserved more than five months… a lifetime. The judge, miraculously, pitied me enough to deny his wish. I was too frantic to say anything, though. I wanted to run. I wanted to get out of here, I wanted to run away and hide forever, I wanted-
A pair of strong hands held my arms back the second the court ended, though, preventing me to move even an inch. I looked over my shoulder and spotted two police men holding me firmly, tying my hands with handcuffs and pulling me away from the area. I heard my friends and family arguing but among those, I heard Marco crying and calling my name in desperation, -"Jean!"- He yelled, struggling to run towards me within the mass crowd around me, -"Stop, please!"- But he was pulled away, held back by someone.
-"M-Marco!"- I yelled back, trying to wriggle out of the polices' grip, to no avail. I… I have to see Marco. I have to see him before… before it's too late! -"Hey, let me go! I wanna see my boyfriend!"
One of the police men scoffed, -"You're not seeing anyone until you get to prison, pal."
-"Please, I beg you!"- That was pathetic but I was desperate and scared as we neared the police car. I kept looking over my shoulder, ignoring the slight pain, but I didn't saw Marco. I heard him crying but I couldn't see him. Then, the men holding me pushed my head inside the car with the rest of my body with force, slamming the door close and riding off. I starting crying. I couldn't help it, -"I don't deserve this, fuck! I can't go to prison! Let me go!"
The police were laughing at my tantrum at first, saying I was nothing but a kid despite my infamous recognition, but then I started to annoy them. They yelled at me to shut up or else, but I couldn't. I kept whining like a baby during the whole ride until I earned a smack on my leg with one of their batons. I kept at it until they literally smacked me shut. I was hurting all over and I eventually wore out, even my eyes. There weren't enough tears to drip out anymore. My throat stung. I couldn't even cry.
A huge and ominous building suddenly shadowed the car. Slowly and painfully, I gazed out the window and saw the prison, my sentence, where I'll spent the next five months crying like a baby. It was huge and dark, with a gloomy atmosphere around it. The sky above was grey, totally adding the dark mood to the area. There were high fences around it with spikes all around, definitely to prevent anyone from escaping –I even saw drops of blood on a few of those.
-"Yeah, I got a special one today and I can't wait to drop him."- One of the police spoke to the man guarding the gate and entrance of the prison.
-"Why's that?"
The police grunted, rubbing his temples, -"He wouldn't stop crying, man. I swear I lost count of how many times I've hit him!"
The gate guard loomed close to the window and peeked at me, -"He's tamable. They all are. They just need a little, you know, pressure."
-"Yeah, but I think he's gonna need it… a lot."- They laughed while I stared absentmindedly through the window, thinking about how this will end for me… if it'll ever end. God, I don't want to go in there. This is like living a nightmare. My stomach churns and I felt nauseous. I want to cry more but I can't. There's no more tears left. Do I… do I really deserve this?
After the car parked, I was heaved out of it by force and pushed towards the entrance with my hands tightly tied. Some man wrote something on a clipboard and gestured us in. I was then greeted by a group of people definitely waiting for me, -"Well, well, well, the new guy's here. Welcome to hell, pup."
-"Hey, isn't he the one who's been causing trouble in Trost's high?"- One of them squinted his eyes at me.
-"Yeah, he's the infamous Trost's number one troublemaker."
-"Well, it doesn't matter. I don't care who he is. He won't cause us any trouble, right, boy?"- A bulky and tall policeman with scars on his face stepped close to me, glaring down on me, obligating me to say yes. He held his baton firmly, ready to smack the fuck out of me if otherwise.
And I did, nodding very slowly. I was shaking. I was scared. I don't want to be here. The looks these guys were giving me terrified me. They already showed that they were ruthless, relentless and brutal.
-"Good. You're scared and that's how I like it. It makes my job easier,"- He scoffed, grinning down on me proudly and satisfied. His expression made my… my inner demon stir and wish to fight back. My fear overwhelmed it, though, -"Clean him up and then I'll take him on a tour to his cell."- The man spoke to someone else and then winked at me, making his coworkers laugh.
The policemen took me to wide room with a shower on the far end. Without warning, two men in white gown started stripping me, -"Hey, hey, hey, w-wait!"- I exclaimed, trying to get loose of the policemen holding me.
-"Shut up, pal. Don't start crying again or else."
I gulped and before I knew it, I was completely naked before total strangers. The ones who stripped me in the first place stared at me for a while and one of them even whistled, -"Isn't this one healthy, eh?"
-"Very healthy…"- The other one said, not even bothering dissimulating ogling me while licking his lips from top to bottom –specially my bottom part.
I felt nauseous just by standing here, gulping nonstop. My body shook as their eyes whipped me whole. Perverts. Being looked by Marco felt good and I enjoyed his expressions as he narrowed me… but these guys? They got those odd look old men have when checking girls out –or guys, doesn't matter- and I felt uncomfortable, disgusted and unpleasant. It felt too different. I swear, they must be thinking about sucking my dick because their looks busted them.
-"Why do you always do this? Just get him clean, you fucking perverts."- Said one of the policemen, avoiding looking at my ass.
-"Fine, geez."- Exclaimed one of them as they pulled their washings tools and scrubbed my body and whenever they worked south, they'd snicker and toy with me. I bit my lips and closed my eyes shut. God, I don't like this. Make them stop because I can't do shit! When they finished, they even dressed me with those famous –or infamous- orange bodysuits all prisoners wear in movies, -"Hey, don't forget about us, hotshot. We got arms –and legs- open for you anytime."- Jibed one of the guys, snickering with pal and making me cringe. I won't be surprised if they actually meant that.
I was pushed out of the room afterwards and led throat an enormous area of three floors or levels or… whatever. Each level had a ton of cells and I swear I can't see the end of them. It runs all across and in the middle was a square area with tables and chairs all lined up. It looked like the dining area. Currently, it was empty and as I passed the cells, I saw prisoners in them, all gloomy and bitter and others were… totally crazy and bizarre. They screamed and yelled obscenities to us, others kept jamming the cell door or trying to get through it. Then there were the… observant type, quietly resting on their beds or the wall while observing whomever passes by with intensity. I bet those are planning an escape or something –and yeah, there's the pervy type of prisoners who made risqué comments of everyone that passes by.
When we reached my cell on the highest level, I was literally thrown in after they untied my hands and quickly shut the door, -"Get comfortable, new guy. You're gonna be here for a long time."
-"W-wait,"- I spoke before he could turn away, taking hold of the thin and cold metal -"Will I be able to communicate with my family and friends? Can I see them?"
The prisoner near my cell started laughing out loud and the policemen scoffed, trying to hold his laugh, -"Aw, of course you will, kid…,"- Then suddenly, he smashed his hands against cell and leaned his face close to mines. Startled, I leapt back and yelped, -"No, you won't! And you never will! In this place, you're alone and you got no friends, pal! It's just how it and you better deal with it!"
I shook and slowly stepped back until I collided with the wall. I gulped and held back tears. The man grinned, noticing my struggle, and left, leaving me alone to rot in this cell. I slid down the wall and started crying silently, hurting my neck while I was at it. I looked up and just… cried.
I'm such a baby.
I'm so cruel, aren't I? (T - T) but like I said, it seemed like the real thing to do. I bet you noticed how quickly I wrote it because I'm just bad at that stuff and I read about it but it's just confusing and I needed to upload this chapter asap. Things are definitely looking grim BUT THE PROMISE STILL STANDS!
Also, my heart is with those people who lost someone important at the Orlando Shooting. It's unfair how people treat gays and shooting all of them because of hate is just wrong. I really, really dislike how bad they're judged because of their sexual preferences. It's unfair and wrong.