"The man who has a conscience suffers whilst acknowledging his sin. That is his punishment."
― Fyodor Dostoyevsky
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The courtroom was stifling. The collective body heat of over a hundred men and women brought the temperature of the room up to 42 degrees centigrade. Lawyers tugged at their collars and the fabric of my prison-issued brown tunic stuck to my skin, drenched in sweat. Two female officers led me into the courtroom but I could practically smell the fear I induced in all those who laid eyes on me. They regarded me as a rabid dog waiting to be put down. In fact, that was an inaccurate analogy. A rabid dog was put out of his misery immediately. There were people out there who wanted to see me suffer and there were things worse than death. Witnesses shrunk in my presence and even the supreme judge was unnerved, despite all his inherent professional glory.
The witness stand was my cage and I was the circus animal everyone stared at but never dared to touch. Women held their babies closer to their breasts and men brought their hands up in prayer, begging God for mercy.
They told me I was a sinner, but even the courtroom didn't hold enough justice in its make-believe scales to make up for everything I had endured.
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Burning Ashes
ActionLiving in a third world country isn't easy and hunger isn't the only battle you have to fight. When her father starts dangerously struggling to make ends meet, Natasha knows that she's going to have to take matters into her own hands. Fighting again...
