The True Difference

The True Difference

“I knew she had a girlfriend, I confess. I had an attraction to her. But I was too shy to say so and I had respect for her girlfriend.” A shaky, nervous voice rang out that august morning throughout the court.
“Broach Anderson, formally known to the student body as Ber, was a strangely unique individual. A lot of folks would say that Gothic People are mean, nasty and don’t want to talk to any one. But that isn’t true, Gothic’s are Friendlier then most, once you get to know them. I should know, I was her best friend.” He said sadly as his face became pale, his palms sweaty and he could feel the sickening gut wrenching pain in his stomach as the visions he remembered flashed inside his head.
“Broach wasn’t like the others, though. She was more open to the style she was presented in; she was Proud to be Gothic and made no qualms with any one who thought otherwise. Broach was admired for her Beauty and her strongly different style. I can remember many of a day where random people would just walk up to her, ask to photograph her or ask her questions about her style and she’d graciously answer.”
Pausing to look to the plaintiff’s girl friend with a grimacing look. He felt sorry for admitting this to the jury when she was Broach’s girlfriend. His eyes filled with sadness because his intentions were never to hurt her even further then what she already had been. But he had to go on, he had to tell the truth and set things free from his system.
“It was Friday night; we had planned to go to a party at the skate park. Jessica, Broach and I began to walk to the park. I had to go to the store first though, to get a pack of cigarettes, so I parted with them half way.” He began to rock back and for a little at the horrid thoughts that concealed and constantly ran trough his mind.
“After about an hour, I had caught up to them and we continued down the road. No sooner we enter the skate park, a dozen kids surrounded Broach. They had been asking question and taking pictures again.
After a while things began to settle and the three of us began to have real fun at the party. You know…Dancing, eating and drinking. The typical party in the town of Berkley. But…”Looking down upon his shaky glove covered hands as a tear slipped down his cold envision spooked face.
“I had offered to go get them a drink for one second, I swear!” Beginning to break down, tears streaming down his cheeks and causing his neatly applied eyeliner to run.
He moved his head to look back towards the jury.
“Only for a minute I left to go get the drinks. But, God knows, I wish I had stayed. For as soon as I turned round with the drink across the park, I could see what was happening. Despite the some what crowd that mingled in front of me. At first I thought they where only going to ask a question, so I walked. As I looked across the park again, what filled my eyes has never left my mind. Those three over there…” He pointed at the defendants as he spoke now in haste from seeing them and not being able to remove them of their lives with his bare hands.” …were the ones that killed Broach mercilessly. When I had looked back up, I had dropped the drinks in horror. For what I saw were those three inhuman beasts stomping on Broach’s head repeatedly!” Slamming his fist on the stand in front of him as he stood for a moment, glaring at the three murderous defendants. He then sat back down, having to control his enraged feelings.
“I began to run as fast as I could, as fast as my feet could carry me. It wasn’t fast enough and all the time I ran I saw them kick her in the head. I heard Jessica try to plead; I saw her try to stop them. Her cries asking them to pleas stop are still herd from my ears. But they only went after her as well, screaming heinous slurs such as Dirty Gay Gothic Whores! They stomped and stomped until her head was… By the time I could throw them off she was laying in a pool of blood!” He looked down and began to cry more. Standing up again, He glared at the three defendants and bellowed out with his squealed but bold voice,” I hate you! I hate you and all of your kind for all you have done to my poor defenseless Ber! I hope you all rot in hell for the murder of an innocent woman!” The bailiff put his hand on the witness’s shoulder as if to restrain him as defendant’s lawyer hollered.
“Objection, Your honor!”
“Sustained, is there any further questions?”
“No. That is all, your honor.”
“Then the witness may step down from the stand.” The judge said accordingly.
The witness stepped down from the stand and was escorted, by the plaintiff, to where Jessica stood.
They stood for several minutes awaiting the jury’s decision. After a bitter wait of the jury conversing back and forth, a paper was passed to the judge.
“The Defendants Jason Randolph, Bridget Peterson and Cassandra Huntington are all sentenced to juvenile hall until they are the legal adult age of 18, then they will be transferred to a jail where they will spend the remainder of their lives.” Ending the court with the three knocks of the gavel, the court room was dismissed and the three were taken under arrest.
Later on enduring the day, as Families gathered for the burial of Broach Anderson, they were met by a gathering of Gothic people. They had come to Honor her death and join in with the mourning of that day. They all had worn their Gothic clothes and they all huddled around the family and the Poll Bearer as he spoke.
“Family, friends and strangers, we are gathered here today to lie to rest the poor innocent soul who was victimized in a terrible event. May she rest in peace. Amen”