The court listened to established facts of the defense. This time, it was from their witness.

Hanne sat up straighter when Helen approached her for cross-examination.

Over the course of the court sessions, Amani had understood Helen's manipulative way of doing things. It invoked fear in her, especially towards her vulnerable family members. Mike had reassured her everything would go smoothly. He had prepared his witnesses for the worse. Helen would come at them enraged, throwing everything their way and they'd be prepared for her.

"I just have a simple question. Why were you in the room when all this happened?"

Amani's eyes traveled from Hanne to the back of Mike's head then back to Hanne whose mouth had gone agape.
"I-i wasn't even there at first. I was there after-"

"Why is your statement withering? This wasn't how you answered your defense Lawyer." The court went silent at that. "Or was that revised?"

"No." Hanne's defense was quick, almost wary as she glanced at the judge.

"So," Helen paused, catching Hanne's eyes in her stare and in a lower voice, asked, "Did you help your niece kill her father?"

"No!"

"Did you kill Saad?"

"No!" Hanne yelled and Amani grabbed the bench she was sitting on.

"Who did?"

Hanne's eyes momentarily landed on Amani as she hurried to answer, "It was self-defense!"

"Who did it?"

"It-"

"Objection your honor." Mike rose along with Amani. Her heart was at the tip of her tongue, her feet ready to jump as she grabbed the wood in front of her, and her eyes zeroed in on Helen. "Counsel," Mike placed a palm towards Helen who stepped back and visibly gulped air like Hanne. "Is badgering my witness."

"I'm done, your honor." Helen stepped away, returning to her seat while Mike turned to Amani and discreetly waved his palm down, ordering her to sit and compose herself.

The next witness Amani dreaded the most was Nadeen.

Being the fleshiest of them, Amani maintained eye contact with her visibly weightless sister. A tone darker and if Amani was not in prison with no access to quality skin products, they'd be almost the same shade.

Nadeen's sunken eyes closed and opened over the sound of the clerk announcing the presence of a minor in the building and the prohibition of audio or video records.

Mike did his routine questions, the only time Amani wasn't tense about the pressure subjected on her alliances.

Once Helen was up and standing before Nadeen, Amani couldn't help the explosion of fireworks in her chest.

"I understand you are anemic and usually not involved in active decisions, nor are you involved in any matter that may sprout violence in your home, right Nadeen?"

"Right."

"Has your sister ever shared moments of irrationality where she fantasized about getting rid of your father?"

"No." Nadeen shook her head.

"But we have text messages to prove that."

Nadeen shrugged, nonchalantly, rehearsed like. "Just that one time."

"But it was twice." Helen shot back, inching closer to the witness stand.

"Relevance?" Mike's voice echoed in the speakers.

"Okay, let's assume you're here to defend your sister, are you really going to let them put the blame on your dead mother? Are you-"

"Objec-"

"She's a minor, why would you ask her that stupid question?" It was Amani's voice against the silence that enveloped the courtroom. Flabbergasted by the defendant's outrage as she stood, shaking and piercing daggers at Helen.

"You will sit down and not say a word again." Judge Grace said, staring Amani down until the girl obliged the command. Grace turned to Helen, ignoring the shaky breaths Nadeen blew into her microphone. "Be careful counselor."

Helen nodded and proceeded, taking a few seconds to let Nadeen steady her breaths.

"Isn't it true, your sister has refused to see you during visits?"

"It is true."

Amani nodded at the answer. An excellent way to remind her what crappy sister she had been to Nadeen lately.

"Does it have anything to do with the guilt of putting all this on your dead mother?"

Before Mike could object, Amani was on her feet, screaming, "What in this world is your problem? Didn't you hear what I said? She's a minor! A teenager! Why do you keep pushing on all her traumas, why-" Amani was cut off by an ambush of colleagues that groped her in the tightest hold, paying heed to the Judge's demand of her ejection from the courtroom. She struggled against their grip, half the gallery going up in gasps, protest, and support.

It took a hot minute to push Amani into Handcuffs, her sharp reflexes being the most productive of her state.

The court adjourned for the next day and Mike took out his frustrations on an equally frustrated Amani.

"We have spoken about this. I am the lawyer, I defend! Not you!"

"Why weren't you defending then?"

"I would've if you didn't beat me to it!" Mike yelled.

"It seemed I had to remind you of your duty!" Amani yelled back.

"Okay. We get it!" Mike's assistant intervened, raising his palms towards Amani and Mike.

As a matter of fact, "No, you don't!" Amani and Mike turned to him.

"Toh." He surrendered.

***

For the benefit of the fast-approaching end of the trial, Amani and Mike set their newly formed differences aside, revising rows of questions and answers, preparing for the last few court sittings.

Mike had two more witnesses to present before the judge. Sadiq and Amani. He called unto Sadiq first, asking him questions to clarify more things in the bored room. Helen waived her cross-examination.

Moving fast, Amani sat behind the witness bar for the first time since the trial began. She jammed her clammy hands, resisting the urge to wipe the sweat that had formed above her lip and forehead. It was the air, the tension, the eyes on her that made her grip the chair she occupied, dismissing Mike's suggestion that she kept her hands where people could see that she was unbothered.

Unbothered? She has never been more bothered in her entire life.

The question he set out for her was simple, asking her to narrate what she could remember from her chipped-off memories and she obliged, taking more breaks than necessary so she did not break down in front of the court.

Once it was Helen's time to cross-examine her, Amani leaned back in her chair, clasping her palms above her abdomen. Hoping that would lessen the painful churn of dread at the pits of it.

"Isn't it true that all your brothers studied abroad?"

"Yes," Amani nodded.

"And you wanted to study in your preferred country as well?"

Without a doubt, "Yes."

"But your father was against it and wanted you to study Nigerian Law?"

"Yes."

Helen hummed, coming to a stop in the middle of the courtroom.

"Isn't it a fact that your mother was a revert and your father's family disliked her for it?"

"Yes," She answered.

"Did she ever talk about-" Helen paused to rephrase, circling her palms in suggestion, "Has she ever portrayed signs that she missed her old religion and wanted to revert again?"

Amani's eyes widened and she went to speak, "That is so antireli-"

But Mike saved the day, "Relevance, your honor?"

"I am trying to establish the grounds for the motive that the defendant used to kill her father, your honor." Helen defended.

"Rephrase and get to the point."

Helen nodded, turning to Amani. "It's been proven to us in this courtroom, more times than we counted that the abuse you claim your mother went through in your father's hands are fabricated lies you dished out to save yourself."

Amani's posture stiffened, her throat drying at once. After being prepared for many months, it was almost head-bash-worthy to think Amani could be taken off guard anymore. Yet, Helen's words registered and unleashed a new level of madness within her.

"Those aren't lies."

"No?"

Amani furiously nodded, "Yes."

"Then what do you have for us to prove that your father ever laid a finger on your mother since evidence has shown otherwise."

Amani's now tearful eyes ran from Helen to Mike. Mike's eyes suggested Amani to calm down and she refused, running her gaze over the gallery only for her to catch a glimpse of what Helen was seeking in the prosecutor's side of the court.

"Him." She angled a shaking finger at an individual in the gallery, "Akram."

Eyes traveled to the gallery, falling on Akram whose widened eyes searched the courtroom in a glance and landed back to Amani's begging gaze. "Tell them," she said once the fierce eye contact they had was too much for him, dragging his face down. "Tell the court!" She yelled, banging the wood before her once Mama leaned into Akram's ear to whisper what Amani knew were discouraging words, "Stop sitting there like a bum and be my brother!"

Mike was before the bar in a second, a few inches from the emotionally wrecked client of his, and a row of guards approached her.

"Amani, stop-"

"He knows it! He knows he hit her!"

"Stop it, Aman-"

"He was there In Azare! Akram," her arm dedicated to his sight as she cried, "Please, tell them mana!"

Her screams escalated once Akram stood from the gallery and instead of heading to her, headed to the exit and the guards headed to a now uncontrollable Amani.

Mike was sensing where this went. For the second time in a consecutive sitting, Amani had forced the Judge to adjourn with her uncontrollable outburst. She was making things worse and was doing an excellent job at it.

This time, the prison guards pushed Amani into the siren-wailing car and drove her straight back to prison. Mike was hot on their heels, his concern too critical to be overlooked or be given a breather.

Sara was the only guard agreeing to Mike's plea on seeing Amani in her cell. She gave up after Mike's numerous sweet words and lead him to the cell, stating a window of ten minutes and she'd be back to lock the criminal again.

"Why would you do that to us?" Mike's first question at Amani who he found seated on the floor with her back pushed against the wall and her knees at her face. She was in her court attire, a simple dress and a head scarf, her prison uniform thrown on her excuse of a bed.

"Why did you do that?" He repeated in a scream, earning her attention.

Amani's enraged eyes flew to him, her tongue on the go for her thoughts.

"Didn't you hear what that stupid Helen was saying? Or couldn't you see Akram ignore me? She was lying! They're lying! Everyone is just lyi-"

"Welcome to the criminal justice Amani, no one gives a shit about the truth!"

Like waves hitting the shore, silence and realization hit Amani. She slumped back at the wall. She was done with the conversation.

"Thank you, Micheal. I know you did your best."

Mike stared long enough at the withdrawn version of Amani who ran her fingers under her bed in search of a box of cigarettes and lighter she had taken from him. Once her cigarette lighted up under the pressure of her lighter, he sighed, sitting by the edge of the bed.

"This isn't over, Amani."

They both knew otherwise.

This was why she was not shocked when Judge Grace granted Helen's request for Amani's full remand restrictions, depriving her of her already non-existent family visits. The prosecutor's reason was; Amani's contact with family was making her too emotional and unstable for trial.

It was worth scoffing. She had no consistent visitors anyway.

Amani retired to punching bags as much as she could, the only time the voices in her head didn't overpower her almost to oblivion. And sometimes...they did.

In the consecutive days, Amani managed to tear her boxing wounds further by not giving herself rest. When she was confined in the cell and when she wasn't obsessing about how much more time she had or how her end would be, she found strength in punching the thin mattress she had.

It was an idea that came to her in the middle of the night after she had run out of cigarettes to smoke and calm her nerves down. Although blinded by the darkness, she found a way to fold the mattress three times and stick it to a string of torn material she had connected with a hole in the wall. For the next hours leading to the morning, Amani stroked every surface of the mattress with her bare hands.

When blood began to ooze out, the pain intensified her rage. The liquid running down her lower arm sent cold jitters to the warm, sweaty parts of her flesh. Once taken out to the grounds, she went full out again, her vision blurring and her feet crying out in ache.

With more than a hundred punches and similar dodges, Amani's attention to Mike's presence was called. Her heel flattened against the ground, her hands wrapping around the still swinging bag as she leaned in and rested the side of her face against it.

Mike stood at the top of the four stairs that led down to the ground Amani stood on. She waved at him, leveling her breath as her chest heaved harshly.

Her counselor had been having too much fun cutting her workout sessions. It also didn't sit right by her the expression he held. A fake smile he upheld, an awkward wave, and a suggestion that she walked with him under the fresh air.

Oh, fresh air was all she had since morning. She suggested-demanded he got to the point already.

"I spoke to Helen."

Lawyers speak, even if they are on opposite sides, Amani knew that much.

"We spoke about the ACJA," He craned his eyes to find Amani's hands on her exposed abdomen, a position of demand. "The Administration of criminal justice act of 2015." Amani began to recall a few things she knew about that act and hoped it wasn't the road she knew that Mike wanted to put her on. "I wanted to decline but she said to talk to my client first, I never know what you want."

"What do I want?" It was sincere, Amani wanted to know what he thought she wanted. Because even she didn't know.

"If she wins," the words were harsh, demanding a pause to let its sting fade, "Grace will term it unpremeditated murder and sentence you to 15 years." Mike wanted to see Amani's reaction, he kept glancing at her and she kept walking with her eyes on the gravel floor they walked on. "But if we...if we appeal now, they'll go for ten years. But in the calendar year that prison use, a year is eight months and with remission and your aunts' relationship with the presidency, we could get you out in three and half years."

"It has gotten this bad, huh?" She asked no one but herself.

Mike sucked his teeth, "I don't recommend it."

Whether he did or not, Amani wanted to say, and she did, "Tell her I'll take that offer when goats start flying." She knew it was her pent-up rage speaking, but better still, Helen could kiss her ass.

Helen could kiss Ammy's ass as well!