[ WP ] `` I 'm sorry , but you have to die now . ''

-- content warning -- 
 
 *And last but not least, I will now call to the stand, Ezra Holland. * 
 
 As I sat staring at the attorney who ungenerously returned my gaze with cold, careless eyes, I had started to become nervous. Upon entering the courtroom, I was fine. Hearing the objectionable comments and sighs of disgust trickling forward from the strangers behind me, I was fine. Even swallowing back as much fear as possible disguised in gulps of water, I was fine. It wasn ’ t until my name was called when I had realized where I was and what was happening. I should not be here. This was not my fault. The ever-so-smug, “ I ’ m going to rip you apart ” smirk I ’ d received from the attorney said otherwise. I sighed quietly to myself, keeping my eyes on my feet as I made my way to the stand. The pit in my stomach felt as deep as in the way it would plummet when waking in the middle of a falling dream. Coincidentally enough, I had never actually had one of those, a falling dream. As I tried to situate myself into the sleek, wooden chair as comfortably as one could while sitting in front of a grand jury, I could only think of how reminiscent falling from a cliff must be of this moment. 
 
 “ Raise your right hand, please. Do you solemnly swear that you will tell the truth, the whole truth, and nothing but the truth, so help you God? “ 
 
 I did as I was told. My hand was shaking slightly. Must show no fear. “ I do. ” 
 
 “ Please state your name for the court. ” 
 
 “ Ezra Holland. ” 
 
 “ ’ Holland ’ is quite a privileged name to have – wealthy…tied to money, nobility…low tempered, very in tact. Which is interesting, given your spotty background. Would you mind giving the court a brief recollection of your upbringing, Mr. Holland? ” 
 
 My eyes began traveling around the room. The only familiar faces I ’ d recognized were those of my own attorney, and my parents, who sat worriedly right behind her. I knew exactly how my background would portray me, and I knew I had little to no chance of getting out of this case. My eyes rested on my father ’ s, searching for just a small glimmer of hope, but there was nothing. I was on my own. 
 
 “ Well…I was born in Auckland, New Zealand on the 13th of October in 1990. I wasn ’ t born in a hospital…my mum decided to have a home birth. Um…I had a pretty all right childhood, I suppose. I didn ’ t starve, and I had a lot of toys to keep me busy. My parents were in fact very wealthy, but when they died, I didn ’ t see a single penny of any of that money. ” 
 
 “ So your parents are no longer with us, Mr. Holland, is that correct? How, and when is it that your parents died? ” 
 
 My gaze trailed from the inquisitive faces in the room, down to the fidgety fingers in my lap. It was the question that I had both faced and hated the most, but I had to act as if I didn ’ t care. I had to act as if it didn ’ t bother me. 
 
 “ Uh…well…it was the morning of my 5th birthday and birthdays were always kind of a ‘ thing ’ in my family…so I was excited to go downstairs and see a huge cake, and decorations, and presents everywhere. But... when I ’ d reached the top of the stairs, I was greeted with an entirely different scene. At the bottom stood my mother and my father, and…and t-they were facing each other, completely still, completely silent. There was a gun…inches away from my mother ’ s forehead, in the hands of my father. They were both expressionless. All I had time to say was, ‘ Mommy? ’ and then everything happened so fast. She turned her head just slightly to look at me, and the second that she had done so, my father put a bullet in her head…and then she dropped to the ground. Right after, my father turned to look at me, told me, ‘ Happy birthday, champ, ’ took a page out of his own book, then collapsed on top of my mother. ” 
 
 The entire room had fallen silent for what seemed like an eternity, though it only had to be around five seconds or so. The attorney who was questioning me had nodded a bit, looking down at the ground. It appeared as if he was pondering his next question, but you could tell the shock had resonated with him. My attorney had told me that though you could potentially hear the same gruesome story a million times, you never really get used to it. 
 
 “ Would you say that was kind of the beginning of your downfall? ” 
 
 `` Well I would n't necessarily call it a downfall -'' 
 
 “ I would. Your uncle who you did n't really care much for, was granted custody of you until you turned 18. You had to move alllll the way to Connecticut. You started seeing a psychiatrist at the age of 7. And remind me, what is it that you told the psychiatrist that you were having trouble coping with? Things that were keeping you up night… ” 
 
 I did n't hesitate before shooting my glance directly at the lawyer, and answering matter of factly, `` nightmares''. 
 
 “ No... these were more than nightmares. These were illusions. You staying up at night having conversations with your parents who you knew were dead, yet you thought that they were there. This was full-fledged psychosis. Schizophrenia, actually. That's what your psychiatrist diagnosed you with, because you told her you always saw your parents... heard them talking to you... on a daily basis, right? ” 
 
 I looked out into the room of faces. My mother brought a handkerchief to her eyes, yet still managed to give me a weak smile. 
 
 “ Mr. Holland? You seem distracted... are they here now? ” 
 
 `` No. I mean yes, I used to see them... but not now. It's been years since I've seen them.'' 
 
 “ Hm. Tell us about your social life. How did the kids treat you at school? Were you popular? Anti-social? ” 
 
 `` I was n't anti-social. I had a hard time making friends when I switched schools because I was the'new kid', in a new country....I was the kid with the funny accent. I was the kid who....talked to himself during recess.'' 
 
 “ But in actuality, you were really talking to your parents? ” 
 
 “ But you said you were better now, right? Not taking any medications for your schizophrenia? Not seeing your parents anymore? Everything is all better? ” 
 
 No. `` Yes.'' 
 
 “ And you are aware of where you are right now? ” 
 
 `` Yes.'' 
 
 “ And you know why you're here? ” 
 
 I swallowed. `` Yes. I'm on trial.'' 
 
 `` And why are you on trial, Mr. Holland…? ” 
 
 `` For the murder of my best friend.'' I was surprised with how easily the words spilled from my between my lips. They were words I'd been seeing floating around in my head for weeks, and now, here they came out. In front of everyone. Just like that. 
 
 “ Yes. For the murder of Amber Tu. Ms. Tu was found, slain, on the bedroom floor of her apartment, after she'd already passed out from a drug overdose. You two drank together from time to time... did you do drugs?'' 
 
 `` No! I knew drug dealers, but I had nothing to do with any drugs.'' 
 
 “ Is that so, Mr. Holland? We've had numerous witnesses take the stand already, who have said they saw you present at her residence, the evening of her murder. That there was a party going on, and from the second you entered through the door, you were belligerent, angry, and following Ms. Tu around all night. Five testimonies, Mr. Holland. Why on earth would five separate people lie about the same thing, while they're all under oath? ” 
 
 `` Because I did n't do it!'' I exclaimed somewhat loudly. `` Look, there was a party that night, yes. I had a couple of beers before I arrived at her place, yes, but I was nowhere near belligerent. I was *looking* for her because I had n't seen her in the hour that I'd been there. I was n't following her around. Everyone I'd spoken to said they saw her with this guy who matched the description of a fellow drug dealer, who I knew had a terrible history. I knew that I did n't want them together, because who knew what he would do to her? But by the time I found her, she was already passed out on the bathroom floor. I called the police... I do n't really remember much after that.'' 
 
 “ How did Ms. Tu end up in the bedroom? ” 
 
 `` I do n't know..I do n't remember.'' 
 
 “ Do you think maybe you blacked out and decided to take a knife to her body? Because you were drunk and jealous? ” 
 
 “ N-no! She was my best friend! I would never do that!'' 
 
 I parted my lips, trying to find the air that seemed to have escaped from within me. My heart was racing. My mouth was dry. The room was blurry. A tear fell from my eye and I wiped it away as quickly as possible. I was on the verge of having a panic attack. Never in my life had I ever been chastised and yelled at in such a manner that would put me in such a state. So much for trying to stay strong. 
 
 “ It seems as if you have a tendency to black out when something makes you upset. You lose control and turn to the voices. Must be easy when you're locked in a small white room, with nothing to listen to but the hundreds of whispers you hear all day long. These unknown voices would become your only friends. The only human interaction you'd have, aside from the other people who wanted nothing to do with you because they thought you were too crazy- “ 
 
 **OBJECTION! ** 
 
 “ No further questions, your honor. ” 
 ____________________________________________________________ 
 
 “ Mr. Holland, you are a very young individual who has had a hard life, and been introduced into a whirlwind of events that will lead you down the wrong direction in life. Your life was your life and you are free to do whatever you wished with it, but you abused that chance. You were mentally competent enough to stand trial, and the reports received from your psychiatrist were not enough to excuse you of a harsher sentencing. You are hereby sentenced on count 2 to the death penalty. Psychosis or not, you ’ ve brutally, brutally killed an innocent woman out of hate and anger. That can not go unnoticed. I ’ m sorry, but…you have to die now. ” 

