Halcyon [Leo Valdez x Reader]

Prolouge

"Let's start from the beginning."

The warm lights of the courtroom burned my eyes and made them water. I hated that I looked like I was crying, since then the jury would think I was guilty- which I wasn't. I dug my fingernails into my palms, feeling my skin get ready to split. After I swallowed the spit in my mouth, I looked back at the judge. She stared down at me with such disappointment and authority in her eyes I felt reminded of someone.

"You lived alone with your..." The judge looked back down to her papers, "...mentally broken mother, correct?"

"Yes," I answered.

"Your father has been absent since birth."

"Yes."

The judge adjusted her glasses. "You acted out, as your neighbors said. Often breaking valuable objects, screaming, destroying the... piping around your house? Leaving for days at a time and letting your mother stay all by herself, do you think that sounds fair?"

"No," I said. "I don't."

"Then why did you do those things?"

"I was upset."

"Upset doesn't even begin to cover it." The judge skimmed over the papers again. "The neighbors and your extended family have reported all your mood swings, episodes, tantrums, and even your self harm. So, does 'upset' fit?"

I didn't feel like answering her. I had been through this conversation multiple times, and I still hated it. But people just didn't know my side; they didn't know the truth.

I just couldn't tell them.

The judge stared at me disappointingly. She sighed and picked up her papers. "Bipolar disorder, ADHD, and anxiety. I know you're very problematic, but you need to make an effort, young lady."

I hated being called that. I bit my tongue to avoid lashing out at the old fart.

"Moving past your recklessness, juvenile crimes, and mental illnesses, we still have your accusation." The judge glanced up at me for a moment. Whispers broke out among the jury.

"Go on," I said.

Ms. Judge scowled. She took off her glasses and looked me dead in the eye. "Did you- in any way, shape, or form- kill or conspire to kill your mom?"

"I did not!" I yelled. I could feel my face grow hot with my anger. I balled my fists, trying to contain my hatred.

"Then why did you suddenly run away the night she died? Why did you not report her death to the police or call paramedics?" The judge asked.

"Because I didn't want that responsibility anymore." I dug my nails deeper into my palms. "I was so young when I had to take care of her. For once, I could leave it to someone else. I was twelve, for God's sake. I couldn't handle any of that. I couldn’t handle anything. I had nowhere else to go… my family didn’t want me."

"Just like her dad," someone whispered.

I had to stop myself from running to the jury stands and strangling whoever made the comment.

The judge sighed and sat back. "There is no evidence that proves you guilty, but that's just your mother's death. You have openly admitted to your juvenile crimes, and therefore must have punishment. But, since you pleaded guilty, you now get a choice."

I shifted uncomfortably in my stand, waiting for the judge to tell me what I could pick.

She cleared her throat and put her glasses on. "Two years in juvenile prison. You get out on parole, then you're free to head to some foster care or college; though you won't have any money."