A/N: So here is chapter two. I hope you like it. I am not too sure on whether or not you even like the story. I already have up to chapter four written, I just need to go and double check it. And put it up. Yay. Later.

Chapter Two: Miserable

I stared at the ceiling of my cell. Nothing seemed real anymore. The shouts from down the hall grew louder. I knew that I would soon be going back to the courtroom. I stood quickly and walked the short walk over to a small mirror on the wall. I pulled the blonde stands of lose hair back into its tie. I stared at the sad reflection. A face so miserable and young. Glasses hanging off balance from a small nose, freckles littered around the face, as the blue eyes were skimming over the face. I smiled trying to make my face seem brighter, but it only dimmed.

I stared at the mirror for a bit longer as my eyes began to fade out. I focused them onto the mirror only to see red covering my face. Blood splattered along my neck and face dripping off the mirror. I screamed and placed my hands over my eyes instinctively.

As I slowly moved my hands down, I stared at the mirror. There was nothing. Not one speck of blood to be seen. I laughed silently to myself thinking it was only my mind. I need to get out of here, I'm going insane! I cried within.

I brought my eyes away from the mirror and I stared at the cage I was trapped in. The hollow room with only three things in it. A toilet, bed and sink. I grimaced at the idea that I could forever be trapped like a rat contained by it. And then I heard the door being opened.

An officer moved in and spoke. "Turn around miss."

I did as he said and promptly turned. And there it was again, the cold steal clamped tightly around my wrists, which made them ache. I walked forward out of the cell and slowly down the halls. The other inmates hollered loudly at me as I marched down the stairs of the penitentiary.

The actuality of everything was setting in. The second hearing. The courtroom calmed as the Judge walked into the room. Everyone rose when he entered, and sat when the bailiff was given permission to seat us. I could feel the hot burning stares from the eyes behind me. I sat in silence until the judge spoke. The voices of the attorney's appeared so mumbled to my ears. But then a voice cleared and I understood it.

"It's time, go on." My attorney urged.

I stood from my chair and walked over to the bailiff. He placed the bible under my hand and I raised my right. I swore to tell the truth, and that's what I intended to do. I could feel the sweat on my fore head as I quickly wiped it away as I slid into the seat. Then I noticed the prosecutor coming closer and closer towards me.

"Miss Shay." He paused checking his notes. "On the night of your families murder, had you obtained and used any narcotics or alcohol?"

I stared at him impassively. "No."

"How long would you say you were out that evening?" he inquired.

"Maybe until around three that morning." I replied.

He seems almost frustrated. As if he knows he might lose the case. He thinks I'm innocent. I thought staring into his dark eyes. But it isn't his job to make me innocent; it is to make me look as guilty as possible. Yet he persisted with his questioning, as though he were stronger than anything and no emotion would penetrate his bulky form.

"You heard no signs of a break in, not one ounce of sound or violence, anything that would have made you get up and see what was going on?"

"I didn't hear a sound, not even a whisper." I said in a slightly perturbed tone.

I could tell his aggravation was growing. It was barely just the second hearing. I couldn't understand him, the way he acted towards anything that came across his path. He seemed so dull and blank, almost untouchable by sentiment.

"So your family was being brutally murdered just two rooms away and yet you claim that you never heard a sound." He edged closer placing his hands on the bar separating us.

"Yes, I maintain what I had said, that I didn't hear a sound!" I replied now filling with even more rage.

"That doesn't appear at all possible unless you were the one who took the knife and slaughtered your family!" the prosecutor shouted.

The word stained in scarlet lettering across my eyes, picturing them as they were said. Slaughtered, like animals. Like slitting the throat of a pig and not giving a second thought about doing so.

"Objection! He's badgering my client!" My attorney shouted as he stood pointing his fingers towards the prosecutor.

"Sustained!" The judge hollered. "The prosecutor will sustain himself while questioning witnesses, and that last remark will be stricken from the record. And you may now proceed with the prosecution."

He waved to the prosecutor.

The prosecutor angrily puffed as he walked back to his prosecution team. After he had discussed a something I couldn't hear with his partners, he stepped up towards me again.

He looks like a kid with ice cream. I assumed mentally, something bad can only be coming from that dirty mans expression.

"Miss Shay, would you say you are a light or heavy sleeper?" he questioned still annoyed about his last comment being stricken from the record, obviously.

"Light." I replied.

But his words still crossed in my mind. Murdered, Family, Knife, slaughtered. Each of them racing through my already distraught and gentle psyche. As the flashes of my families lifeless bodies lay about the words as they were draped in the crimson color.

"So, you would have to have heard some sort of noise that night, wouldn't you have? Saying you are a light sleeper, wouldn't your family being murdered have made any noise, to have woken you up?" he questioned with the same answer only changed slightly.

My face felt as though it were about to explode and release hot fire but liquid. The blood from my body seemed to move upwards making my cheeks filling my already pink complexion. I tried to answer the question without anyone noticing that I was slightly distressed.

"I didn't hear anything that night!" I nearly shouted at him.

"That's all I have." He said to the judge and walked away from me.

"Defense, your witness." The judge called.

My attorney quickly walked over to me. I could still feel my cheeks, but the began to lessen in the cherry shade they had been moments before.

"Miss Shay, earlier in this case, brought out the idea that you are a very violent person, because of your poetry. What do you think about your poetry?" he asked politely.

"I don't think it's violent at all. Just because I write these poems does not mean I can kill my entire family!" I answered roughly.

I puffed as the air inside of me released and was quickly sucked back in. I tried to compose myself knowing that my attorney was on my side, and he would do everything in his power to protect me. Although at that very moment, the last thing I wanted was protection, I wanted out. Out of the hell that I was brought into, because of my family being murdered.

"I understand that you write a lot of the time, at least twice a week. Is that right?" he asked, I could hear his voice, cool and collected, as if he knew I were upset.

I thought to myself quickly. "Yes!"

I nearly jumped out of my seat replying to the question. It was an answer I knew I couldn't get wrong, or say wrong and have it used against me later on by the prosecution lawyers.

"Why do you write so many in such a short period of time?" he questioned.

"I like writing poetry, it gets all my emotion out that I am feeling at the moment, and my best poetry writings come out when I am upset or depressed. It's just very soothing to write, because it calms me down."

I smiled and knew that nothing I could say to my attorney would be bad. He would ask me the simplest questions so that I would have no problem dealing with answering them. I knew I would be found innocent. Why shouldn't I? I am after all, innocent.

"What about some of your poems about Death, abusiveness, and so forth." He posed.

"I only write them to get all of it out." I responded. "It's better than doing a lot of things to take out emotions."

"That is all, thank you miss Shay."

I sat in the chair calmly waiting for what the judge would say. I could feel my heart pounding in my chest as I watched the juror's faces. How could they even imagine someone like me, a frail, tiny, seventeen year old girl could commit such a horrendous crime?

I tried to relax as the thoughts ran through my head. Family, I missed them so much. Their humor, comfort and charm, they were so wonderful. They were everything to me, but then there it was… 'Were', the word scrambled my brain, they are no longer 'are' but a 'were'. My body boiled with these lingering thoughts of my family.

"If there's no further questioning?" The judge asked glancing at the attorneys.

"Wait," The prosecutor stood quickly. "I just found something I wish to question miss Shay about."

The judge waved his hand for the Prosecutor to question. I didn't know what else could happen that was worse than what had already did. The attorney glared down at me as his eyes glowed like an ember still toasting on an ending fire.

"Miss Shay, how old were you when you entered 'Cedar Vista' care for the mentally unstable?" He questioned.

His eyes smoldered, as he looked intensely deep into mine. My head began to spin. Cedar Vista, How long had it been? How long had it been since I went there, to quit cutting? Thinking about it only hurt me more. Questioning the time I was there, the place I had hated now after being sent against my will. If only I hadn't been that stupid girl I was when I was, And then it came to me.

"I was, 16 so about a year ago, I only spent two months in there."

"And wouldn't you have a scornful hate for you parent's after sending you to a mental institution? Enough to give you rage to kill your family?" He spat at me.

I stared at him. I thought, How dare this bastard first accuse me of murder because of what I write, but now, because I was cutting myself like an idiot teenager and got sent to a mental institution for it.

"I was sour about it, yes, but I realized that they were right, and I needed help!" I almost shouted.

The wrath and provocation began to work within me. I could see the scars across my arms. They seemed so bright and obvious it made my vision hazy. I could envision the knives slicing open bare flesh as blood slowly exited. The thoughts raced through me, and the idea of it disgusted me. I placed my head into my hands, trying to push the thoughts out of my mind. I felt so much anger towards the prosecutor for bringing it back up, something I thought was out of me, was still inside, like a blaze waiting for the next log to fuel it.

"Miss Shay, Answer this for me then." He paused as I looked up at him. "When was they last time you cut yourself?"

I could remember exactly the last time. A few days before the murders. But by telling him that, would only give him more ammunition against me. But if I waited, and he found out, it would be worse for me not saying anything, and I would be basically crucified. It killed me to think that the room was full of people who believed I had committed those sick twisted murders that some bastard had done to my family.

"I last cut myself," I paused realizing what I was about to say, "About 8 months ago."

He sighed and looked down upon me.

"Or is that what you would like the jury to believe?" His voice filled with antagonism.

"NO!" I shouted. "I really stopped! I am telling the truth, the last time was 8 months ago, and it's in my journal!"

But then I realized. In my journal, had I written the actual last time in there? Did I write in there the few days before the murders? I couldn't think, I was cramped and all that was thrown towards me that morning, clouded my judgment. I couldn't remember the last time I had written. I then saw the attorney walking over to the other members of the prosecution. They only mumbled words and then he came back over.

"That is all your honor." He said quickly and walked away once more.

I stared at the defense and wondered what was going to happen then. I didn't want to go back to jail, but the choice was not mine to make.

The judge began to speak. "You may return to your seat miss Shay."

I gratefully smiled and hurriedly rushed back over to my attorney. We discussed what had just gone on. Then the judge began to stand. We both turned our attention to him.

"The next hearing will be held, in two weeks, November fourteenth. This hearing is now adjourned." He proposed.

He began to walk down from the podium and back into his office. The jurors all stood at once and began exiting the room. I watched as they left, as each left they stared back at me, strong hurtful eyes gazed upon my young self, as if I were evil. As they left my lawyer and I stood from our seats.

The prosecutors said their good days and left the courtroom, as did the rest of the people inside. I looked back at my attorney ready to speak, but was interrupted.

"Well, have a good day, I will see you at the next meeting." He said.

"WAIT!" I screamed at him. "What am I supposed to do about this, he can't bring these sort of things up, can he?"

He looked down on me as if I were a child.

"He can, and he just did." He paused. "Anything else you need to tell me before they bring it back up in court again?"

I raced through my mind. Nothing, I hadn't done anything wrong. At least, nothing I believed was wrong.

"No, nothing." I responded softly.

He gave a half smile before stepping away. The bailiff came up behind me, and cuffed the metal once again across my wrists. I let my head fall down, and did not say good-bye to my lawyer.

The Bailiff pushed me out of the courtroom and back to my cell.

He can't really bring those things up, can he? I tried to ask myself. But I knew that my lawyer was still right and that dwelling on it would only make things worse. So I led my mind to think about what would happen in the next hearing.

Why haven't I been found innocent yet? I thought to myself. I didn't kill anyone, and they're supposed to figure that out! I can't be locked away forever! But then again, I was being led, once again, back to my cell, my cage, my new home.

A/N: So, yea tell me how you liked it, hope you liked it. Well I can take the beating if it wasn't good, and you wish to say horrible things. LOL…. Yes, I am a complete dork.