99

I was sitting in that uncomfortable chair for more than four straight hours, during which the people around me kept chattering at the top of their lungs.

I squirmed in my seat, trying my best not to fall asleep in that trial. I listened to Arthur Jerome's public defender across the room, while the judges and jury listened attentively to his arguments, while my father remained in his place, head down, with absolutely nothing to say.

He didn't even spare me a glance, which I greatly appreciated because it indicated that he was finally beginning to feel remorse for what had happened.

That dreadful man had managed to continue his life as he had done so far after months of rest and absolute relaxation.

The lawyer Black beside me, a friendly man who was nearing his forties, jumped to his feet to refute something to his counterpart, forcing the judge to silence them to avoid an unnecessary commotion in the courtroom.

I scratched my head anxiously, hoping that this torture would end once and