What the Blade Saw

Your Honour, I have fulfilled my duty in

the courtroom as Evidence Exhibit A,

helping to shed light onto the deed.

But I have more to tell you.

Ever since you used my reflection to straighten

your wig, you've been ignoring my signals and

attempts to catch your eye.

You won't get anywhere asking the defendant.

My witness statement is silent to your ears.

I first looked into the defendant's eyes when I was trafficked

over the counter that morning, and was plunged

straight into his pocket,

with upbeat music playing in the car

to avert suspicion.

All remained dark until

I was released into woodland.

Once again,

I took in the sight of

my trafficker's eyes, but from above this time.

I saw a woman beneath me, at least briefly,

and I dazzled her with sunlight before

he hurtled me downwards and

I nestled my way past her

protective sheath.

I suppose it's my form of a handshake.

We enjoyed a long embrace.

The rush of cold air which engulfed me as I

withdrew made me gasp, and the woman gasped too.

My vision was veiled with crimson and

I saw the woman spattered in the same hue.

A heartfelt introduction as equals.

"It's for the best, mother," my trafficker said,

making the woman scream even louder than I had.

They must have been better acquainted.

I expected her to reciprocate

his greeting, but she didn't.

He must have been the chief.

She bowed down and stayed down

until he grew tired of her subservience and wandered off.

He washed me in a nearby river so I could see again,

before leading me back to the car.

And for the first time in having been by his side,

his skin upon mine,

I felt him draw breath.

As for what happened after that... well,

you know the rest.

He can breathe, he can speak,

and still the only words

he can muster with

that breath when

he stands in

the box

are:

"No" and "comment."

What a waste.