And with a drop of his gavel -
A voice rings out before the judge even has a chance to say, “Guilty.” And with that, my fate is sealed.
I turn my head briefly only to see my mother collapsed in the arms of two guards escorting her out of the wooden room. “Please, no! Not my baby! You can’t take him!” She cries out breathlessly in between excruciating sobs. “He’s my only son! Why are you doing this? I hate you!” Her thoughts are scattered trying to make sense of it all, lashing out at anyone. At everyone. Just as they pass the threshold, she gets in one last exhausted jab, “I hope you rot in hell,” before completely giving up and going limp giving the burly creatures her entire weight to drag out.
Before I turn back to face the judge, to face my fate, I notice one curler at the nape of her neck she hadn’t taken out that morning. Perhaps she forgot, or most likely her arthritis is getting worse. Either way it’s a simple reminder…