All I Want Is Happy Ending
The evidence is...
Like they’re trying to erase what happened.
I sit in the corner, legs swinging from the too-tall chair.
Twelve years old, but somehow still too small for this room.
Elara Whitmore
( They braided my hair today. )
Elara Whitmore
( Tied it with a blue ribbon. )
Elara Whitmore
( As if that makes me more believable. )
Elara Whitmore
( No one asked if I was okay. )
Elara Whitmore
( They never do. )
( FL’s Father )
* clears his throat *
( FL’s Father )
Your honor, I’ve done everything I could.
Raising a child alone isn’t easy.
( FL’s Father )
She’s been struggling mentally since her mother passed.
Elara Whitmore
* watching him *
Elara Whitmore
( He doesn’t even blink when he lies. )
Elara Whitmore
* scoffs in mind *
Elara Whitmore
( Hands folded. Tie straight.
The mask fits perfectly. )
[Lawyer 1]:
“We have character witnesses who say she was fine before—”
[Lawyer 2 (interrupting)]:
“She’s been erratic. Disconnected from reality.
There’s no real proof to support her claims.”
[Judge (sternly)]:
“This hearing is not about opinions. We need evidence, not assumptions.”
Their eyes never meet mine.
[Whispers across the courtroom]:
“She hasn’t said a word since the hospital.”
[Whispers across the courtroom]:
“She’s too fragile to understand what’s happening.”
Elara Whitmore
( I understand more than all of them combined. )
Elara Whitmore
* fingers curl into fists *
Elara Whitmore
( I hear it in his voice. )
Elara Whitmore
( The softness. The pretend concern. )
Elara Whitmore
( Like I’m some sad little girl he’s trying to save. )
( FL’s Father )
* softly, with a rehearsed sigh *
( FL’s Father )
She’s confused. She imagines things. She just needs help.
I glance at him.
He doesn’t look back.
He never looks when he’s scared I might speak.
The lawyers keep tossing words like darts.
I keep staring at the notebook in my bag.
The one I’ve hidden since I was nine.
Inside it: truth written in silence.
Memories no one wanted to hear.
Elara Whitmore
* breathing slowly *
I wasn’t confused.
I wasn’t unstable.
I was surviving.
[Lawyer 2]:
“There is still no documented evidence—”
[Judge]:
“Unless the child wishes to speak?”
My hands shake.
My lips part.
And before I can stop myself—
Elara Whitmore
…I have evidence.
[Courtroom]:
Chairs creak. Heads turn. Gasps ripple quietly.
[Whisper]:
“Was that her?”
[Judge (blinks, stunned)]:
Miss Whitmore?
Did you say something?
My father finally looks at me.
Eyes wide.
That same flicker I’ve seen when I catch him off guard.
( FL’s Father )
* strained voice * Elara… sweetheart, don’t—
Elara Whitmore
Don’t call me that. * cutts in *
I rise from the chair.
Slow.
Like I’m waking up from a very long sleep.
I pull the notebook from my bag.
Its corners are bent.
Its spine is cracked.
Like me.
Elara Whitmore
You want proof?
You want facts?
Elara Whitmore
The evidence is…
They thought I was quiet because I was weak.
But silence is how I stayed alive.
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