"We now begin the case of Scott David Warnick, Nate Bartholemew Gibson, Liam Terry and Tod Emmet Shaw vs the Turner family. Will the accused please rise?"
3 slams of a hammer. Scott Warnick rose from his stand, guilt and fear torn across his face, along with his associates.
"Scott David Warnick, in spite of the overwhelming evidence piled against you in this court today, how do you plead?" asked the judge.
"Guilty!" Scott shouted, almost crying. The whole room gasped, almost in unison. Anthony Turner would have made a witty comment on how the trial was over quicker than the attack, if it wasn't his own son that he had lost. Though there was a lot of astonishment in the courtroom, everyone pretty much knew that Scott would confess. He was so wrecked and tormented with guilt that it was outstandingly obvious that he had committed the crime, and denying it would have only lead to worse trouble. He would never be proud of what he had done and would never be able to lie no matter how much he wanted to, which he certainly didn't.
"Nate Bartholomew Gibson, how do you plead?" asked the judge. Nate stared around the room, took a breath, gulped and responded.
"Liam Terry, how do you plead?"
"Hey c'mon, why the hell am I here?!" shouted Liam. "I ain't done nuthin' wrong! It was all Scott's fault like!"
"Mr Terry!" shouted the judge, in a harsh tone, "Not only does an overwhelming amount of evidence collected from the crime scene and places nearby show that you participated in the attack, your friend Scott has even confirmed this statement to be 100% true!"
"But I neva held the knife!"
"But you were a participant in the crime, therefore a punishment must be issued! Has the jury reached their verdict?"
"Yes," replied one of the jurors. "The defendant is guilty!"
"Bull-CRAP!" shouted Liam, turning to run from the courtroom, only to be stopped by the guards.
"Deal with him." said the judge. "Tod Emmet Shaw..."
"Guilty..." interrupted Tod with a sigh.
"No further questions." said the judge, banging his hammer.
Scott stood in front of a wall, markings behind him which he didn't care to see. A bright flash lit up his face. He was told to turn his head, and did so without question. Another bright flash. Then he was escorted against his will out of the room.
Next thing he knew, he was imprisoned in a dull, filthy room with metal bars flanking him to the right. He was sat in the corner of a prison cell, Knees bent but not tucked in, with his head in his hands. A cup of water on the floor next to him, but he doesn't care. He just sits there. Lost in his conscience.
2 days later.
"How is he?"
"He's been very quiet. Ashamed of what he did no doubt." replied a bulky looking guard. "He was muttering under his breath last night. I didn't hear what he said. He stopped every time I came to check on him. It sounded like he was arguing with himself. I think he's going through a stage of acceptance vs denial."
"I can't believe this is happening." said Scott's mum. "My boy a killer! I-I..."
"Ssshhh ssshh sshh..." replied Scott's dad. "If anyone's to blame, it's us for raising him improperly. We failed him..." the last part was aimed more towards the guard then his wife, although neither replied.
"Here's his cell. I... Oh my god!" the guard jumped back astonished. Scott's parent's both screamed. In front of them lay a dead teenager with a severely split head and a huge bloodstain on the wall, accompanied by 3 large cracks in the stone.
Several hours later.
"It's definitely suicide!" said the inspector at the crime scene. "It all adds up. The boy hated what he did and the guilt that lay in his mind ate away at his sanity, until he couldn't take it anymore, and started bashing his head repeatedly against the wall until he cracked his skull. Bad way to go out..." she looked up at the parents, "...bad way to want to go out. I know this doesn't help, but he probably felt a lot of pain before his death. I'm sorry..."
"...where a local teenager and murder of Ben Turner was found himself dead. It is believed that the boy committed suicide by violently smashing his head..." Ella turned the TV off. She couldn't bare to listen to another second of it. She lay down on her bed, facing the pillow, crying her eyes out. If anyone was the most overcome with grief from the death of Ben Turner, it was Ella. There was a knock her bedroom door.
"Sweetie? Is it alright if I come in?" it was her mum. She continued crying, too devastated to answer.
"I'll leave this mug of tea by the door for you. Come and get it as soon as you're feeling a bit better," there was a pause, "I know it's hard Ella. I can't possibly imagine the pain you feel but I understand it. I don't blame you for how you feel...".
About an hour passed before Ella fell asleep, exhausted of crying. Her tea was still outside.