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After months of fighting what felt like a never-ending battle, she finally got the verdict that she wanted. At least that’s what she thought she wanted.
The cops had finally decided to do something about the charges she’d laid against her “friends”, the same ones who had assulted and broke her eight months earlier.
She had been attending the court case for the last three months, and for the majority of the time felt as though she was the one who had done something wrong. Constantly forced, by law to cancell appointments and postpone deadlines to watch as they stood in front of the magistrate and lied through thier teeth. It made her nervous to listen to thier testimony, like they would reviel something about her that would discredit everything that had brought her to this point in her life.
Each time(she was forced to appear in court) she would meditate silently in a corner she had come to know all too well. She felt confortable when she sat in her corner, because from there she could watch them, how they tried to hide thier fear with continuous giggles while the court was in session…it infuriated her and they knew it, but she just sat there and watched.
When her turn to take the stand finally came, she could hardly breath, and her heart felt as though it was going to jump right through her chest. She spoke too fast and was constantly repremanded by the magistrate to slow down…she tried, and tried…but couldn’t.
The fear and panic increased with every word that she spoke, although she told the truth about how it all happened. It felt as though everyone in the room was waiting for her to say something that would paint her as an unfit witness a.k.a the complainant…but she knew what she had to do. When the procecutor cross-examined her, she felt her knees buckle beneath her. She was glad that one could see her loosing her balance from behind the dock as she spoke.
On that last day/judgement day she walked into court A, for what felt like the millionth and first time, feeling more nervous than usual. It didn’t take long for the magistrate to call him up to the stand. There was only one left now, as the charges against his accomplice had been thrown out…
His mother sat by herself, looking straight ahead, at her son, with a particular look in her eye. She didn’t look scared nor did she look particularly arrogant…she just had a look.
As the judgement was being given, her heart creeped closer and closer to her throat. She eventually zoned out, in attempt to calm her nerves. Her vision started to blur and her ears started ringing, making it impossible for her to hear much of what was said…untill right at the end when she heard the words she’d been waiting for.
It had been almost seven months since the incident, the words seemed to roll off the magistrate’s toungue in slow motion, “GUILTY AS CHARGED!” he said.
When her heart started beating again, she didn’t know what to do. That was what she wanted, wasn’t it? A wave of relief washed over her instead and a little smile started to form arching her lips in an upward direction. “That’ll teach him a lesson” she thought.
As she walked out of court A for the millionth and last time, she turned to look at his mother still sitting there. She didn’t move, just stared at her son, who was now being led down a flight of stairs (that looked like a whole in the ground) to his cell. There he would remain untill all the necessary fines had been paid.
Still feeling victorious, her smile quickly turned into a frown as she looked at this woman, just sitting there. it made her sad, to know that it was because of her actions that this woman sat there, now just staring at the ground…
The law had run its course and the truth had prevailled, but she couldn’t shake the mixed emotions that suddenly overshadowed her victory. She had every reason to celebrate but couldn’t, all she could do was smile and that was the end of it. no more, no less. Just a smile.
For part one: go to Vuvuzela Portfolio and scroll down to article tittled Mesuring a life worth living
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