"The defendant has pleaded not guilty," said the judge after calling the court room to order. "It will be your duty to decide whether the State proves the charge beyond a reasonable doubt."
Maryanne's eyes stuck anxiously to the judge. He had just announced her charge to the room. Another reminder of what she was in for. What everyone in there hated her for. As soon as he did, she felt the rage in the room aggravate. She felt it reach from the gallery behind her, its cold touch rustling up strands of her blonde hair.
Particularly, from the other side of the court, in the row behind the prosecution's table. A constant flood of hate flew towards her.
Her mother-in-law sat on the near end of the bench. On her way in, Maryanne had marched by her on the isle. Her eyes were full of sorrow, mournful tears from the funeral were still fresh on her face, and her eyebrows were furrowed between her eyes leaving ugly wrinkles above her nose bridge; a sad and vengeful mother.
Though she never really liked her. She always felt pretense in the smiles and compliments.
Right next to her was her son. Her eldest. As she walked by, her gaze had bounced briefly to him and met his. Piercingly resentful, sneering at her.
Then she noticed the space between them on the bench, the closer she got. A small head leaned on the backrest between their shoulders. On it was black curly hair that barely touched the back of its neck. She recognized it. Liam. Her heart sank a little.
Her mother-in-law's wish had finally come true: Liam was away from his - what she had always called, irresponsible mother' , and in a place where parenting was real, where there was an actual home.
And maybe her wish for Maryanne's disappearance, preferably through a brutal plane crash or for a drunk truck driver to blindly lodge his bonnet into her driver side door, was practically coming true, as she was facing life in prison.
Amidst sneering, her brother-in-law lifted his hand and curled it around Liam's shoulder, shieldingly, as if blocking out something frightening or inappropriate on the screen.
He didn't see her. Though every time he did, fright took over his face and he would glance away immediately.
It was probably for the best. That he didn't see her, and maybe even more that he lived with his grandmother. Maybe he should have a lot sooner.
All over the room, that hate was evenly spread. It carved its sinister shape onto every face. When she had arrived outside, she could hear the chatter inside, alive and normal. Though filled with speculations of the case, all opposed to her, her freedom or even her life, it was there.
Then when her lawyers, walking before her, swung the door open and entered, it dimmed and became a buzz.
Those are the fools defending her. Don't they know what she did? Some people just love money more than the truth, people murmured from the full benches.
Then she entered. Slowly behind the small metal trolley, loaded with her case files and thick binders, Mr Dawkins was dragging behind. The whole room went silent. Only the glances remained, staring back at her. Necks twisted like screws and entire torsos swiveled around, all to watch her. Some frightened. Some shaking in disbelief or disappointment. All hateful.
All were leading her through the walkway. A witch being led to the town center to be burned.
If such a fate could ever be dealt, those spectators wouldn't hesitate to exact it. She would be up and burning before the judge could bang the gavel a third time.
These glances and thoughts, and the emotions behind them weighed down on her. They turned her stride into a trudge. Her quiet steady breath, which she had, just outside the room,turned into ragged gasps, heavy and uneven.
One of her lawyers noticed. The lady. She paused and let her catch up.
Just breathe, she said. None of them matter, placing her hand softly on her shoulder.
Her voice was soft. It calmed her. She turned her attention to her kind eyes which slightly loosened her breath and lightened her step. It made reaching her seat, just a little less difficult.
However there was another set of kind eyes in the gallery. From it she felt a reassuring warmth, reaching through the others, to the back of her head.
After her brother-in-law, her gaze turned to the left row.
A grey haired woman looked back at her. Her eyebrows lifted slightly at the inner corners, giving her a look of quiet compassion. The woman stood up, and as she approached, spread out her arms in the air and welcomed her. She wrapped her hands around her and rubbed her back . A mother's embrace.
She fell out of that hug and into another. Her sister's. Just as warm and even more familiar.
Her hands swung around her body, too heavy to hug them back.
"We're here for you okay. Me, Jane, your father..." Her mother said softly. "We're all here for you." Then she kept walking towards her table where her lawyers had already reached and we're looking back at her.
But that was not all of them, she thought as she sat down. She hadn't seen Tony, her younger brother. Not since their falling out. She kind of hoped he had moved past it. To be there for her, but she didn't see him. She didn't even bother to ask of him, lest she darken the mood within her only support system.
"Counsel for the state," the judge said, "you may proceed with your opening statement." His loud gruff voice pulled her mind slightly away from the gallery. The silver haired man from the table across stood up, walked towards the jury and began to address them.
Her hands slowly curled around her elbows. She shivered as the cold settled around her in a cloud, isolating her from the entire room.