Silent Voices

That day is a day that will reign in infamy. It started differently than any other day. I sat in the chair with my hands bound behind the chair. Sweat gleamed down my forehead as chills crawled up my spine. I could faintly hear water dripping nearby. The hose they used to spray me with must leak. I'm usually waiting; something will happen by now. I wasn't greeted with a beating from the stern-voiced woman. I didn't have to be used by the masked males this evening. The morning didn't have anything eventful. I breathed a sigh of fresh air. I needed a break. I was close to my breaking point with nothing to show for it. I had spent so much time crying and pleading for The Deadman to come to save me. I never thought about what I needed to do to break out. I mean, did I even want to break out? What of the world could I return to? I feel like I belong here to some extent. What happened that day was my fault. I was fighting with someone, and then the quake occurred. I was blowing everything within a certain radius to smithereens. I crack a smile from that word, "smithereens."

Such weird tones the English dialect has, doesn't it. I've gotten off task. My next mission should be escaping from this...

The sound of mechanical locks unhinging startles me. The doors somewhere in front of me open. The sound of boots hitting the pavement makes my body feel on edge. They inch closer and closer, and a new voice rang.

"Pick him up and take him with us."

That's all the words I got before being strapped to a table and taken down a corridor. We took many different turns, and gates opened and closed behind us. A sick feeling rose in my stomach as we ventured further and further into this building. I tried recollecting our route in my mind. Turn left and take four steps down, then right. After taking that right, walk forward for about 2 minutes then a door will open. Behind that door is a big area judging by the echo of their feet. Go up an elevator, then take a right into another elevator. Ride the elevator for three floors; then we are here. Where even are we? I ask myself as we continue forward. I hear murmuring and chatter as we walk down an aisle. My blindfold is snatched off my face, and I'm presented in front of a crowd. Cameras flash as I'm released from the table and sit in a chair. I have a hard time adjusting to the light. Being blinded for days on end will do that to you. I try to raise my hands to block the shine, but the two guards grab my hands immediately. I looked at them quickly to make sure I hadn't done anything rash, and the following gasps and noises from the crown let me know I must be careful. They are afraid of me. They must not understand I'm just like them, fearful and worried about what could happen. I want to go home. The sound of a loud voice draws my attention. A woman sitting atop a podium slams a gavel down.

"ORDER ORDER!! We have here the fabled child of the massacre a week ago."

It's only been a week. Wait, did she say massacre.

"I didn't kill anyone there!" I say

A group of armed men followed by someone wearing an all-black suit walks in. They are dressed from head to toe in all black and have a certain color to them. Every movement they make casts a shadow that lingers there for a moment and then dissipates. One could easily tell they are from a militarized group and mean business. They might be a part of the Extinction Force I head about. The man with the briefcase walks up to the table opposing mine and clicks open the case. He takes out multiple weapons and papers to follow. He speaks.

"We have video evidence of that faithful day where you were not only in the center of the disarray; you fell straight into the stadium, which was the most destroyed place after the explosion. Not only this, but the quaking blew buildings from over 100 miles away. This, at that time and being in a highly-populated city, shows signs of this being a terrorist-planned attack. You and your friends not only were in the stadium, but eyewitnesses stated they saw your friends immediately running to save you. Why would lowly harmless children not go to protect themselves or try their best to run to safety? Not to mention there were firearms found on the dead bodies of the children. You were the only survivor of this terrorist group, and the proof is in the pudding."

There is a nerve-racking silence in the room. All these eyes watching me, waiting for a response, all I could do was stutter.

"We searched through your phone, young man. You were a member of multiple pro-Deadman groups, were you not?" The lawyer asked.

"I am."

"Precisely, that same group attacked this very building we are in and tried their hardest to come to save that villain of yours. You fanatics have been so blindsided by your praised overlord that you've harmed countless innocent lives. Advocating that this is his will, and although that group failed not only the day before, you, angry that they failed, grabbed young members like yourself to cause as much damage as possible, and by God, you succeeded!"

The lawyer slams his hand into the witness's stance. He takes off his glasses and rubs his temple. His eyes dart up to me, but no other body part moves. He stares into my eyes while still cleaning his glasses. His head tilts up, and he whispers lightly, yet everyone can hear it.

"You were the one who killed your friends, Deadman."

The crowd before me leans forward as if anticipating some reaction from me. I tried to hold back my tears. Honestly, I did. I've heard those words from somewhere, and I can't remember why. I remember having those words yelled at me by someone, but I can't remember who. I lean on the table, placing my elbows as I look down. It's been a while, and the judge expects a response. My eyes are filled with tears as I look up at the judge.

"I... I didn't kill anyone. It was the other guy that did those things. I tried to stop him. I'm innocent of everything... Please, you have to understand."

I lean my head back down. The crowd will understand my pain. Surely they will. The judge speaks up next.

"I'm not going to lie to you, kid. I want to believe you, but..."

"But he can't because not only is the evidence against you; there's video proof. Play the clip!" The lawyer said.

As the video plays, I can't think of all the events happening to me. I'm being accused of killing too many people for it to be accurate. Not only that, but also killing my friends and the deaths of a whole attack that didn't involve me. The prosecution has pointed everything at me, and things fell into place for them like butter. I'm ruined. I look up at the video with teary eyes. It's a clip from someone's phone videotaping me yelling at someone on a balcony. The video plays precisely how I remembered it. Until I in the video shake hands with the guy, and the explosion happens. The camera cuts off, and the persecution steps forward and speaks.

"We can see, although shortly, that he shook hands with the man that performed the explosion. After this explosion, he was found on the basketball court in a giant hole. The only explanation is that he was siding with the one who performed the explosion. This brings me to the first witness I call... To the stance."

Another prisoner comes in, scarred and blindfolded. His outfit is a different color than mine, and his hair is longer than mine. It brandishes a white color at the tips and is entirely brown at the roots. He has scars all over his face, and if you look hard enough, you can see his hands are messed up. They walk him to the witness stand and remove his blindfold. He recoils like he's never seen the light before and frantically searches the room. His eyes lock on me, and a name flashes into my head. Char.....

" Keep him away from me, that menace, Chris. He's the reason all my friends are dead. He did it all."

He's leaning back, trying to gather as much distance from me as possible—the crowd murmurs and whispers amongst themselves. All hope has been lost, and my face begins to show it. The whispers get louder and louder until the judge speaks.

"ORDER ORDER IN MY COURT!! Listen here, son. I tried my best to plea to your side as much as possible, but the undeniable evidence is unavoidable. Perhaps in another life, you won't be at the wrong place at the wrong time." She slams down her gavel.

"I hereby sentence you to execution on the 12th of May."

With the sound of the last slam, the guards holding my hands grab my body to take me back to the table. I resist. I must resist. I scream at the judge, trying to plead my innocence. But no words escape as I froth in agony. Time move slowly as I look at the crowd. All the bystanders put on masks depicting animals. The members of The Extinction Force are the only ones still showing their faces, and I swear I could hear them whispering something. My body refuses to give up, and I fight the guards. They end up having to send more people, but I continue to struggle. Until I couldn't any longer. I grew tired, so tired, and they saw this, and dog piles me—one on top of the other, grabbing a part of my body and holding me down. Their numbers seem to become endless as more jump in. Spectators before now hurling themselves to restrain me. One kneels on my arm, another on my leg. A big burly man knees my neck, preventing me from breathing.

I struggle for air, fighting not for safety but simply to breathe. We take for granted the air in our lungs until we lose it. My eyes roll back as I lose consciousness. I don't want to be lifeless again.

"I want to move. I want to feel free again. I want my mother; I want my FATHER; I WANT MY BROTHER. I... WANT THE DEADMAN!"

I scream with my last dying breath. There was no voice this time. He didn't speak back to me. I can't feel any longer. My heart stops beating my mind stops breathing. I am dead...