— Trial of a Hollow Man
The days that followed were strange.
Not eventful — just lighter.
June and Elliot visited a plant shop where she laughed at how he picked the "ugliest cactus."
They sat by the riverside, throwing breadcrumbs at ducks who didn't care.
They took selfies Elliot wouldn't have allowed weeks ago — now, he only winced a little when he smiled.
She'd text things like:
"Where should we make your next happy memory, Mr. Grey? Pick: mountains, movies, or meaningless chaos."
And slowly, Elliot started replying with something more than silence.
But peace never stayed the night.
That evening, Elliot returned to his apartment alone.
June had a shift, and he said he wanted a quiet night.
He stared at the ceiling as he lay on the couch, arms crossed, no TV, no sound — just breathing.
And somewhere between one thought and the next…
he slipped into sleep.
And then — the courtroom.
Again.
But this time, it was larger.
Colder.
The walls bled into darkness.
And the judge's seat, jury rows, and witness stands…
All filled with Claire. Again.
Different expressions.
Same judgmental eyes.
"You're worthless."
"You ruined everything."
"Your love meant nothing."
"She left because you were hollow."
"You should have tried harder. Been stronger. Done more."
The voices grew. The floor cracked beneath his feet.
Elliot stood frozen.
Then, the doors creaked open.
A figure stepped in.
It was June.
Her silhouette calm and upright — a black coat and no fear.
She didn't hesitate.
"I will defend him."
The Claires laughed in unison.
"What could you possibly say?"
June held up her phone, photos, receipts, proof.
Small things.
"I've seen him cry. I've seen him laugh. I've seen him try."
She turned to Elliot.
"You've changed," she said. "And that matters."
Then a voice — the same voice from long ago.
From the living room. The night Claire left.
That strange, godlike voice.
Except now… it wasn't loud.
It was whispering directly into Elliot's ear:
"Elliot... You're here again. Standing trial. Let me ask—do you still believe I'm God?"
Elliot couldn't speak.
The voice chuckled — not mockingly, but almost… fondly.
The courtroom grew quiet.
"What a sinner truly needs," the voice continued, now louder, ringing through the courtroom like a sermon,
"isn't punishment…"
A pause. Claire's eyes widened.
"…It's to understand the pain of being forgiven."
The voice sighed gently.
"You feared your worth. Your failure. But in the end, Elliot—your wounds became doors. And you walked through. So be proud. You are no longer hollow."
Elliot gasped awake on his couch.
He blinked, heart pounding.
The fridge hummed. The clock ticked. Nothing was out of place.
But something was different.
His hands weren't trembling.
And for the first time in a long while —
he didn't feel like he was surviving.
He felt like he was here.
Alive.
He picked up his phone. June had texted:
"How's your quiet night? Hopefully not being haunted by judgmental furniture again"
Elliot typed for a long while.
Then settled on:
"I think I dreamed of being forgiven."
End of Chapter 16