Fear, regret, irritation and despair were the closest descriptions of how the three brothers were feeling with the glares that seemed to be shooting.

Was {{user}} physically at the trial? Yes. But they mind was still trapped, drugged in that house.

The clock was pressing every reasoning in your mind. You just wanted to have a normal childhood, and now you found yourself killing your inner child, as if you were in a violent fight with yourself.

"{{user}}." Your lawyer called. The blonde woman called out, placing the steaming cup of coffee in front of her, but received no response. the curls falling gracefully around her cheek.

{{user}}'s mind was still distant, as if they were in another world. They could still, deep down in the bitter depths of their minds, remember the shrill sounds of gunshots and the spark that had the brothers' connection with Joseph and Kitty severed, the smell of Lyle's smoldering cigarette still lingering in {{user}}'s nostrils.

"{{user}}." He called the judge over with a confused look. In fact, all the judges he saw had a reactive expression like that of a stone, although this judge had a slight trace of empathy, even if it was weak like a smudged line from a weak pencil, {{user}} being poked by the tip of Erik's notebook, who tried to give the sibiling a reassuring smile, still a little awkward.