Hope From Within the Ashes

Chapter 1: Amarrah

        Soft murmurs and gleaming smiles danced about the room, the truth of their pity hit me like a nail; at one point in my life I might have believed them, might have crawled into these open arms that seemed to desperately await my embrace, how could I not? — well, at least back then, during the time when I was innocent, the time when I still believed that deep down everyone really was a good person, I would have done so; but that time is over, because now I understand that innocence is only a word to cover up one’s sins and betrayal was what truly awaited me. I wish I could tell you I was excited for what came next, or that I was awaiting my friends’ return so we could all go for a girls’ night out. That would’a been wonderful. If such a thing were to be true then I would finally be able to allow myself to forget all that had happened. But none of it was true, or ever would be for that matter. You see, I’ve never really had a knack for making friends; sure, people seemed to like me but, actually getting close, to the point that we could tell each other all of our secrets, is something I lack. I struggle with getting close to people, especially after my parents died about four years ago, so I try to keep my relations simple; a few friends to have fun with and family members I can trust. That is what I consider to be my inner circle, or at least, it was until someone I had thought of as a brother, as possibly one of my closest relations, the person who promised to protect me! — well, you see, he kinda ruined me, betraying me in a way that could never allow forgiveness.

        “Miss Rebeka, we are waiting,” the judge said. I looked up at him, glaring at his appearance. At first glance, one would believe him to be a compassionate old man who truly did feel sorry for me. His gaze was peaceful and the smile he wore was probably meant to reassure me so that I may tell him all I knew. But, upon taking a closer look, one would notice his smile did not reach his eyes and his fingers constantly tapped in annoyance and that every once in a while he would discreetly gaze at his clock. The man didn’t care what I had to say, he only worried that it was nearly 2 o’clock in the afternoon and he hadn’t eaten yet.  

        “Amarrah,” said my foster mother in an annoyingly sweet tone, “The judge is trying to speak to you. C'mon, stop fretting over the little things and just tell him what you know. Dear, oh my dear, sweet Amarrah, I know you are upset over what happened. It’s only natural, but honestly, you should understand that we cannot do anything for you until you tell us who the culprit is. Just telling us that you know who he is will not get us anywhere.”

        I felt myself tense as she put her hand down on my shoulder, it wasn’t that she scared me, or anything like that, she was too timid to put any sort of fear into a person. You see, what actually bothered me was -- oh, I don’t know -- maybe her plastered smile and that piercing voice that so desperately tried to sound gentle. Maybe she thought she was some sort of award winning actor with such a display, or that she was just naturally good at hiding her annoyance in my not being willing to speak. Truth is, I never wanted to be here. There was no point in going to court and trying to fight such a case, at least, that was what I believed. But this lady, for some reason, had it in her mind that she would be receiving all the money. Never mind the fact that I am eighteen years old and have every right to take the money for myself and make my own decisions.

        “Miss Rebeka, I will not ask you again,” the judge said in a huff. I looked over at him once more. His wrinkly, transparent hands were clasped together and he was twiddling his thumbs in now what was evident annoyance. He would begin to squirm every once in a while, probably because of the heat, or because his clothes seemed to be overly tight on him. Through the scowl in his face, I knew he was ready to rid himself of this place. Actually, his discomfort might work in my favor, which in turn, would allow me to get out of here.

        I smiled wickedly as I looked down at my hands and then began to rub my hand across the soft blanket that covered my immobile legs. I sighed loudly as I unlocked the wheels on my wheelchair and then proceeded to, ever so slowly, wheel myself around the dark wooden table I sat behind and then across the room so I could sit directly across from the judge. I was workin’ it, I knew, but despite everything I had to get myself back in the guy’s favor. Even if, in order to do so, I needed to display that “poor me” attitude that normally got people like him to feel pity. Yes, it was wrong, but did I really have a choice?

        “Miss Rebeka, if you please,” the judge swallowed hard and motioned his hand for me to speak.

        I moved my head to look at him but made sure my head and shoulders stayed slightly droopy to ensure that I looked very timid, “Yes sir,” I said in barely a whisper.

        “Miss Rebeka, I understand your discomfort but you need to trust me. You must understand I think of you as my own daughter and therefore hope to reassure you that I will do everything I possibly can to help you. I know you’re scared but…”

        “But what?” I interrupted sharply, forgetting my timid act, “Let me guess, you are going to get me to trust you and feel comfortable that you will do everything you possibly can for me. You are just itching to get me to confess everything so we can then move to court and then you can receive your big fat paycheck. Then, on the day of court, everyone will act like they care before it starts. Once again they’ll all get me feelin’ comfortable — and then bam! — I’m the one being trashed and…”

        “Miss Rebeka, that’s not…”

        “Miss Rebeka nothing,” I said coldly, “You want to know what happened —fine!— by all means I will tell you. Some pervert tried to rape me, I fought back and inevitably lost my legs after he slammed me down into a cement ground. I could have died, should have died, and he should have been able to get away with what he wanted. None of that happened. Some guy tried to rape me and it’s as simple as that.”

        “Amarrah, it’s not that simple,” stated my foster mother calmly.

        “Yeah, you’re right, it is definitely not that simple. But you know what? The truth of the matter is that I don’t want to go into court and testify over what happened. It’s done and over with so why don’t you give me a break and just leave me alone.”

        “Amarrah, I just want what’s best for…”

        “You want what’s best for me? Mrs. Smith, stop lying to yourself and stop trying to push me to do this before you regret it.”

        “What do you mean?”

        “Exactly what I just said.” At her silence I turned my chair around to view her reaction. She looked hurt, but at the same time seemed to register what I was saying to her. When she looked up and noticed I was staring at her she opened her mouth to say something and then promptly closed it once again.

        “Miss Rebeka.”

        “What?” I snapped my head around not caring to completely move my chair again.

        “I can see that you are very adament in your wish to stay quiet. Seeing that you are an adult, I suppose you'd wish to be treated as such, I understand that we should not push you any longer. So, with nothing else left to discuss, I suppose all that’s left is to ask you if there is anything you would like to happen that you are willing to share with us.”

        “Yes, there is.”

        “Go on,” he said gently.

        I turned my chair around completely to avoid Mrs. Smith’s reaction after my saying this. “I would like to be allowed to live with my aunt. When my parents first died I was not allowed to move in with her because of her blindness. Now I am eighteen years old and can take care of myself. My aunt is young and without a husband. If you people are afraid she is unable to take care of others then you should understand that she must be having a hard time taking care of herself. So please, allow me to live with her.”

        “Yes, I understand,” the judge said after a long sigh.

        “Amarrah, no!” Mrs. Smith wailed. And at that I figured she understood the true meaning of my words.

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