Not guilty.
How can that be? I don’t understand, the words jumbled in my mind, mocking at my sanity. But I saw his grin, a wink of his eye and I just sat there and watched, watched him seize his new found freedom with both hands. Watched him celebrate, his face all lit up at the chance he had been given, the chance to wring freedom with both hands before stamping his size twelves all over it, like he’d done before.
He smiled. I shivered.
I should have spoken louder, not the pathetic whimper of a coward.
Too late now as his hand was on my shoulder, his grip like a vice.
“Time to go home babe,” he said.
I looked to his shattered victim, too dazed to even shed a tear. Too numb to feel. Her freedom gone.
My freedom all but a dream as he squeezed my hand.
Home. I couldn’t believe he was found not guilty. I wanted freedom, a new life from him, suitcase already packed. But a guilty verdict escaped common sense and justice today. And he’d see the suitcase. See my betrayal. And I, I would see the blur of his size twelve.
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Written for Thursday Threads over at The Weird, The Wild and the Wicked. This week's prompt; just sat there and watched.
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