Ficly

Open Court

“What’s the charge?” My lawyer pounds the table. There’s no way this could be a real court. Nobody would arrest a twelve-year-old, let alone bring them to trial.

The judge reads the paper that is in front of him. “The defendant is charged with being wish fulfillment arrogantly, having a ridiculous name maliciously, and being raised by the wrong family purposefully.”

Mr. Hanceek pounds the table again. “My client cannot be held responsible for that! It’s all her mom’s fault!”

“We know that, Mr. Han-cheek,” the prosecutor pronounces the name wrong and smirks a little. “but if you can prove Renesme-Rosalie innocent we can change everything necessary to give her a normal life, emphasis on normal.”

The unspoken addition is that if they judge me guilty, I’ll die, and even my own mother will forget I ever existed.

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