An Honest Murderer

Hate can turn the greatest people into the worst. Power corrupts.
'Hate will guide you' does contain, and will contain, some disturbing content. I won't cover it in the description, but if you are sensitive or have experienced abuse, I don't advise you to read this.
Christine is a victim who in turn, makes others her own victims as result.

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3. The Last Word

 

"Does the defendant have a last word?" The judge asked, and many heads turned towards Christine. Her eyes... They were so cold; filled with an unexplainable hate.

I hated her. I hated her. I hated her with everything in me - she was repulsing, truly and wholly. It took all of my will to stay sat, to watch her smirk as evidence was shown and witnesses accounts retold. To watch as she sighed and rolled her eyes. What right... What right does she have to detest us? As if it was our fault for her being present in court?
This was her trial; it was her. All of this - my sons death, it was her.
To hear he speak... I doubted I was prepared. I expected a hostile, distasteful tone. Something so disrespectful that it would crush my will and make me run at her, cup my hands around her throat and watch as the colour drained from her face-
"Yes. I do have something to say. A lot actually, so grab a seat if you aren't already sitting. I doubt you'd want to miss this."
Sweet. Sickly sweet, but ever so cold - I hadn't ever heard such a depressing tone. It was nothing as I'd expected. Christine's attorney looked wary, as if they were unaware of her plans. Christine stood, ignoring the apprehensive warnings from her attorney, and continued to make her way to the podium. As she did, she turned to look at us.
She smiled.
She smiled.
If it were not for my interest in what she was going to do next, I would have most likely landed myself my own murder trial, as I was sure the other family members of other victims sitting with me would also.
Christine looked around the courtroom for a while, before leaning towards the microphone. She spoke slowly, menacingly. "You've wrongly accused me of thirteen murders." Hah! Wrongly accused? The evidence was there. I was sure she was going to say something worth listening to. Why was I still here? She was probably enjoying watching her victims father going through hell- "I'm sad to say that I've been humouring everybody involved with this trial for a while. Well, because the honest truth is that thirteen just wouldn't be a significant number to me. Of course there would have to be more, so there is."
My seat held me no longer; I was free, and I was running. 

 

 

 

 

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