It wasn’t me. I didn’t do it. I’m innocent.

It was him.

But how could they know that? I had never told anyone about him.

As the lawyers went back and forth, spouting half-truths meant to blind and prejudice the jury, I retreated into my mind. He was there, waiting on me.

Hey, what are you doing? he asked.

“Do you see what you did?” I asked.

What I did? he laughed. I did nothing. I merely gave voice to the anger inside you.

“You killed a man!” I shouted.

I did nothing. You’re the one who stabbed him. You didn’t have to listen to me.

“Why can’t you just go away?” I sobbed.

I think I’ll be here for awhile. he said.

The judge brought his gavel down, the bangs reverberating throughout the courtroom.

“What has the jury decided?” he asked, his voice booming in my ears.

“The jury has found the defendant guilty.”

Guilty. I can’t blame them. After all, they don’t know about him. This was all his fault. I’m still innocent.