Fic: "Fact v. Fiction" (R) Logan/Veronica
Title: Fact v. Fiction
Author: Truemyth
Pairing / Character: Logan/Veronica
Rating: R
Word Count: 2,767ish
Summary: Two trials, and not much different. But what if… ?
Spoilers / Warnings: Through “Happy Go Lucky,” episode 2x21 / Smut, language, and cynicism.
Author’s Note: This fic dips it’s toe into the pool of AU and totally twirls it around a bit. Or does it?! … No, it totally does. Written for the loveathons Courthouse Smutathon challenge. Beta’ed by sarah_p of the totally rockin’ bod and awesome master of comma sutra.
X-posted to loveathons and veronicamarsfic.
Fact v. Fiction
“On the count of murder in the second degree, we find the defendant...not guilty. On the count of aggravated assault, we find the defendant...not guilty. On the count of statutory rape, we find the defendant...not guilty.”
As each of the charges against his father were read and then dismissed by the star-struck forewoman, Logan found that he was only surprised by how unsurprised he was. Even as his stomach churned and bitter acid climbed up his throat and he kind of wanted to kill something, Logan couldn’t help but smile as the bastard shook his lawyer’s hands and gave the audience the rare treat of humble-but-pleased expression #27.
But it didn't mean that Logan’s fists didn’t clench when his father looked over at Veronica. He didn’t have to look himself to sense the hurt and rage vibrating from her. For him, the air was almost ionized with the force of her emotions, even from three seats away. She wouldn’t be crying, not now, not in front of Aaron. Her eyes would be swimming in suppressed tears, bluer-than-blue. She’d hold her chin high and look his fucking papa in the eye. Logan wanted to do something, say something, but she wouldn’t welcome it. For all he knew, his father was being treated to the same look of raw betrayal that he himself had received before the elevator doors slid shut the previous week.
The bailiff brought the room to order and everyone returned to their seats as the judge rendered the formalities and legalese that all meant the same thing: Aaron Echolls was a free man.
And she brought down the gavel with a -
BANG
“Abel Koontz, you have been found guilty of murder in the second degree of Lillian Kane. Your sentencing will be held in two months time, and, for now, you will be remanded to the care of the California Correctional Department.”
Elation shot through Logan as he watched the freak who had killed Lilly hang his head and murmur to his legal monkey in a cheap suit. Justice had been served.
Everyone was there to hear the verdict. The Kanes embraced in the front row, a warm and loving family, finally vindicated. Keith Mars was across the aisle, people squeezing past him as if he were a leper while he sat in quite contemplation of the mistakes he’d made. Even his own father clapped Logan on the back with a supportive pat before moving to join the throng of well-wishers that was building around the Kanes.
Logan could have followed his father, made a date with Duncan to play a new video game, got a closer look at Koontz as he was lead away into the depths of the courthouse.
But, what if he had turned around instead?
And seen the lone figure, dressed in tough-girl black. What if he had somehow recognized Veronica Mars, standing alone near the door, recognized the quiver of her lower lip and the fact that her heavy eye make-up wasn’t quite as ‘water proof’ as it claimed as it streaked down her cheeks? What if Logan couldn’t help but follow her from the courtroom any more than the single twist of her long, blonde braid could help following her, through the swinging double doors, which closed with a -
BANG
Aaron gave a final wave to the crowd before he disappeared into the depths of the courthouse to finish the small bit of paperwork that stood between himself and freedom. Veronica focused on the spot he had vacated, ignoring the buzzing in her ears and the small tickle of moisture on her cheek. She ignored her father’s murmur and tried as hard as she could to ignore him, as he reached her side, sank into the vacant seat next to her. She really couldn’t think about that right now.
She stood and moved briskly - it wasn’t running if your knees didn’t climb too high - out the door, leaving her father and Logan behind in her search of the restroom, not really caring that she bumped into some junior law clerk so hard that he dropped his armload of books.
BANG
Veronica purposely ignored Logan as he stood, propping himself up against the wall on one side of the door to the women’s restroom. Maybe that’s how he got the drop on her. One sure grip on her arm, just above the elbow, and a gentle tug, and he managed to propel her into an unlocked supply closet and closed the door. He turned on the single lightbulb overhead, and Veronica watched the way the hanging string bounced from the bare fixture while the light flickered to life.
This was the first time they’d been alone - really alone - since Lilly had died. She settled her feet at shoulder’s width apart, ready for a fight, and wasn’t surprised when the first words out of his mouth were hard and angry. But then she processed their meaning and couldn’t help wrinkling her forehead in confusion.
“Why were you crying?” Logan demanded.
“Why do you think?” she sputtered back. “Lilly’s killer just got off scot-free now that that patsy is going to jail.”
Logan turned from her, and she was momentarily distracted by the play his muscles as they rolled with tension beneath the thin fabric of his shirt. Veronica tried to edge around him, towards the door, but then he was facing her again. His motions were as lazy as a jungle cat, and yet he was everywhere around her and there was nothing she could do but watch him move towards her. His face so close that she could feel the hot moisture of his breath on her newly scrubbed face. She stepped back. He followed her until a low row of shelves pressed into the small of her back, and still she bent away, trying to escape the intense glare of his dark eyes. She couldn’t break his gaze.
“Fuck you, Veronica. This is a fucking joyous day! Able Koontz killed Lilly. Do you think for a second that Jake Kane would let this happen if he didn’t think he was the killer? If there was any doubt?” Now he had his hands on the shelf at either side, and he continued to follow her retreat as he poured out his rage. “You fucking know the Kanes. They let you into their house. They let you into their lives. Jake treated you like a fucking daughter. How can you let your father keep talking like Jake’s the villain? How can you cry and wear your fucking funeral clothes the day Lilly’s killer is finally brought to justice? Do you really hate her that much?”
Veronica’s hand was flying through the air before she could even process a thought. Her palm connected with the side of his face in a slap that left both of them stinging.
“Fuck you, Logan! I loved Lilly.” Her voice was like a ragged sheet set ablaze with doubt and pain.
“If you stop for one second and think, without your prejudices against me or for the Kanes, just think… If my dad is right? And Jake Kane did have something do with Lilly’s death? Of course he’d be happy to see the fall-guy go down.”
Logan let his hand fall from his face, revealing the flag of high color she had painted across his cheek. He continued to press her back into the wall and his mouth twisted into the sneer he wore so often now.
“If your dad is right? So you don’t know either, do you? Poor little Veronica Mars, following her daddy blindly, and to hell with everyone else. I guess he’s all that you have left now that your mom ran off with the milk man, or whatever.”
She stiffened and the sneer deepened. He picked up the length of her braid and ran his thumb over a glossy curve before he let it fall through his fingers. Its weight slapped against her chest, just to the left of her breast bone, and the thump might have echoed in the hollow places inside her. “You’re a punk girl now, huh? A cold-hearted ice queen? The pretty pink fairy is dead; long live the bitch.”
And Veronica found that she didn’t care any more. She just wanted to go home and run a bath and soak in it forever. She wanted to let Back-Up clean the tears from her face, and she wanted to play Lilly’s favorite music over and over. She wanted to wallow. She did not want to be trapped in a closet with a psychotic jackass of an ex-friend who somehow managed to find every crack in her façade of satisfied isolation. He’d helped her build it for almost a year, ripping at each weak point with his sharp words. He always managed to find a new chink, and she was growing tired it.
“What do you care, Logan?” So tired. “What do you care what I think about Lilly, or if I want to cut my hair to a mohawk, or anything?”
His hands fell to his sides and he stood up.
“I don’t. I don’t care.”
And maybe she moved past him then, and opened the door and left. Maybe she didn’t see Logan again until the first day of school when he asked how many guys she’d managed to fuck that summer, and if she’d been charging them enough to save up for community college.
Or maybe, when she began to move, she realized he hadn’t moved back as far as she thought, because his hips brushed hers and he drew in a breath. Maybe she followed the sound of that breath and found his face and looked into his eyes again and saw the glint of tears. What if she read in those eyes an answer that was as different from his words as night was from day?
And what if Veronica wrapped her hand around the strong column of his neck and pulled his head down and kissed him, even though his startled reaction knocked over a broom, which clattered to the floor?
BANG
Logan tried not to be hurt when Veronica left him without a word. He gave Keith a brief nod, stepped over the pile of books on the floor and moved towards the door. But suddenly, some smiling face was in front of him asking his opinion on the result of the trial, and about whether he thought he’d reconcile with his father, and did he think Lilly’s killer would ever be caught?
He might have drowned in a sea of questions had Cliff and Keith not closed ranks with him.
“Logan, how do you feel knowing that two of your girlfriends tried to proposition your father?”
And so what if his fist hurt for days, and the bailiffs had bruising grips on his arms as they began to tow him down the hall? It had still been satisfying to watch that jackass from Channel Twelve fall to the floor with a -
BANG
She tasted like strawberries and breakfast cereal. That was all Logan could think as Veronica’s breath feathered across his mouth, as she pressed her pink lips to his and his eyes fell closed. She was like sunshine and innocence against him, and a part of him howled with rage at the lie of it.
So he rewrote the story.
His hands closed on her head and he brought tongues into play as he pressed into her. The fact that her fingers only began to snake through his hair, that her tongue slid along his like a long lost friend, that she pressed back, only made him angrier. He ran his hands down the side of her body, forcing himself to focus on her heat and not on how tiny she really was, until they found her hips and cupped her ass through the short black fabric of her skirt. He sucked slightly on her tongue and then devoured her moan. She hopped instinctively when he pushed up against her ass, so that her legs wrapped around his hips like a sinful belt. He sat her on the narrow shelf and pressed again, the bulge of his cock against the heat of her, with only his pants and her thin cotton - fuck, but it would be cotton for her, wouldn’t it - panties between them.
“Fuck.” The word fell from their mouths simultaneously, as they leaned their foreheads against each other and gazed downward.
And now they were laughing into each other’s mouths even as they continued to run their hands along each others back. The fire of anger was gradually replaced with a fire of a different sort. That didn’t mean the anger wasn’t still there. It didn’t mean that this wasn’t one of the stupidest things he’d ever done. But fuck that. Logan wasn’t going to think about the fucking facts right now. He moved against Veronica again, and the noises she was making meant he was making her happy. And he felt happy. And that was all he could expect from the world, so he was going to fucking take as much as he could.
He tugged at the end of her hateful braid, unraveled her hair until it fell like a shining cloak down her back, cool and sweet like silk against his hands as he held onto her waist.
Logan became aware of other facts. Veronica was rubbing against him. She was smiling against his mouth, against the skin of his neck, each time he groaned in response. Veronica Mars was a minx.
He dropped abruptly to his knees and smirked as she drew a breath to complain about his sudden abandonment. She almost choked on that breath when he set his lips to the small strip of white cotton between her legs. Her hands found purchase on the shelf as she lifted her hips and let him pull the underwear down her thighs, over her calves, and off. He returned to her, moving slowly, darting glances up at her to gauge her reactions as he kissed and licked and twirled his tongue. Her eyes were closed and her bottom lip periodically disappeared between her white teeth… and all the while, her hair hung down, over her shoulders, wild with waves from the tight braid, and so long that, when he flicked her clit just so and her head fell forward while she shuddered, a single lock brushed and then settled on his forehead like an angel’s wing.
She was still flushed and dreamy when he stood back up. She smiled at him as he pulled a condom from his wallet and began to unbuckle his pants while he nuzzled her neck. But she jerked at the rasp of his zipper and her hands clawed into his shoulders as she pushed him away.
“No. No!”
And maybe she was crying again, but Logan couldn’t see her face through the veil of her hair as she searched the floor for her underwear. And if Logan tried to calm her down maybe she would have stayed and explained about that night, and the pain, and what white underwear on the floor meant to her. But maybe Logan didn’t try to calm her down, because maybe nothing had been settled in those few stolen moments of fantasy, and maybe he thought she was playing the bitch queen again. And maybe she was.
Maybe the sound from the supply closet was just the slamming of the door as the girl in black left, and maybe it meant the janitor would find more of his things on the floor after lunch. But, either way, it sounded like -
BANG
Veronica was an island of still despair in a sea of happy faces and fluttering banners. Photographers were primed and ready to snap the picture that would grace the front cover of the ‘Neptune Register’ tomorrow morning. She had been here before, of course. And she hadn’t had her dad there that time. He hadn’t wanted her to come, so she’d snuck in and watched by herself. In the end, the celebration that greeted the punishment of the innocent was nearly equivalent to the merriment which met the release of the guilty, so she’d been able to slip out of the courtroom with no one seeing her. Been able to cry in the bathroom and repair herself with no one interrupting her. And finally she was able to leave, with no one caring about the girl in black.
In the end, nothing changed but the names and dates. People would always be ready to buy a good fiction over hard facts any day.
Or maybe…
Thanks for reading. If you are interested, my other fictions can be found here.
Author: Truemyth
Pairing / Character: Logan/Veronica
Rating: R
Word Count: 2,767ish
Summary: Two trials, and not much different. But what if… ?
Spoilers / Warnings: Through “Happy Go Lucky,” episode 2x21 / Smut, language, and cynicism.
Author’s Note: This fic dips it’s toe into the pool of AU and totally twirls it around a bit. Or does it?! … No, it totally does. Written for the loveathons Courthouse Smutathon challenge. Beta’ed by sarah_p of the totally rockin’ bod and awesome master of comma sutra.
X-posted to loveathons and veronicamarsfic.
Fact v. Fiction
“On the count of murder in the second degree, we find the defendant...not guilty. On the count of aggravated assault, we find the defendant...not guilty. On the count of statutory rape, we find the defendant...not guilty.”
As each of the charges against his father were read and then dismissed by the star-struck forewoman, Logan found that he was only surprised by how unsurprised he was. Even as his stomach churned and bitter acid climbed up his throat and he kind of wanted to kill something, Logan couldn’t help but smile as the bastard shook his lawyer’s hands and gave the audience the rare treat of humble-but-pleased expression #27.
But it didn't mean that Logan’s fists didn’t clench when his father looked over at Veronica. He didn’t have to look himself to sense the hurt and rage vibrating from her. For him, the air was almost ionized with the force of her emotions, even from three seats away. She wouldn’t be crying, not now, not in front of Aaron. Her eyes would be swimming in suppressed tears, bluer-than-blue. She’d hold her chin high and look his fucking papa in the eye. Logan wanted to do something, say something, but she wouldn’t welcome it. For all he knew, his father was being treated to the same look of raw betrayal that he himself had received before the elevator doors slid shut the previous week.
The bailiff brought the room to order and everyone returned to their seats as the judge rendered the formalities and legalese that all meant the same thing: Aaron Echolls was a free man.
And she brought down the gavel with a -
BANG
“Abel Koontz, you have been found guilty of murder in the second degree of Lillian Kane. Your sentencing will be held in two months time, and, for now, you will be remanded to the care of the California Correctional Department.”
Elation shot through Logan as he watched the freak who had killed Lilly hang his head and murmur to his legal monkey in a cheap suit. Justice had been served.
Everyone was there to hear the verdict. The Kanes embraced in the front row, a warm and loving family, finally vindicated. Keith Mars was across the aisle, people squeezing past him as if he were a leper while he sat in quite contemplation of the mistakes he’d made. Even his own father clapped Logan on the back with a supportive pat before moving to join the throng of well-wishers that was building around the Kanes.
Logan could have followed his father, made a date with Duncan to play a new video game, got a closer look at Koontz as he was lead away into the depths of the courthouse.
But, what if he had turned around instead?
And seen the lone figure, dressed in tough-girl black. What if he had somehow recognized Veronica Mars, standing alone near the door, recognized the quiver of her lower lip and the fact that her heavy eye make-up wasn’t quite as ‘water proof’ as it claimed as it streaked down her cheeks? What if Logan couldn’t help but follow her from the courtroom any more than the single twist of her long, blonde braid could help following her, through the swinging double doors, which closed with a -
BANG
Aaron gave a final wave to the crowd before he disappeared into the depths of the courthouse to finish the small bit of paperwork that stood between himself and freedom. Veronica focused on the spot he had vacated, ignoring the buzzing in her ears and the small tickle of moisture on her cheek. She ignored her father’s murmur and tried as hard as she could to ignore him, as he reached her side, sank into the vacant seat next to her. She really couldn’t think about that right now.
She stood and moved briskly - it wasn’t running if your knees didn’t climb too high - out the door, leaving her father and Logan behind in her search of the restroom, not really caring that she bumped into some junior law clerk so hard that he dropped his armload of books.
BANG
Veronica purposely ignored Logan as he stood, propping himself up against the wall on one side of the door to the women’s restroom. Maybe that’s how he got the drop on her. One sure grip on her arm, just above the elbow, and a gentle tug, and he managed to propel her into an unlocked supply closet and closed the door. He turned on the single lightbulb overhead, and Veronica watched the way the hanging string bounced from the bare fixture while the light flickered to life.
This was the first time they’d been alone - really alone - since Lilly had died. She settled her feet at shoulder’s width apart, ready for a fight, and wasn’t surprised when the first words out of his mouth were hard and angry. But then she processed their meaning and couldn’t help wrinkling her forehead in confusion.
“Why were you crying?” Logan demanded.
“Why do you think?” she sputtered back. “Lilly’s killer just got off scot-free now that that patsy is going to jail.”
Logan turned from her, and she was momentarily distracted by the play his muscles as they rolled with tension beneath the thin fabric of his shirt. Veronica tried to edge around him, towards the door, but then he was facing her again. His motions were as lazy as a jungle cat, and yet he was everywhere around her and there was nothing she could do but watch him move towards her. His face so close that she could feel the hot moisture of his breath on her newly scrubbed face. She stepped back. He followed her until a low row of shelves pressed into the small of her back, and still she bent away, trying to escape the intense glare of his dark eyes. She couldn’t break his gaze.
“Fuck you, Veronica. This is a fucking joyous day! Able Koontz killed Lilly. Do you think for a second that Jake Kane would let this happen if he didn’t think he was the killer? If there was any doubt?” Now he had his hands on the shelf at either side, and he continued to follow her retreat as he poured out his rage. “You fucking know the Kanes. They let you into their house. They let you into their lives. Jake treated you like a fucking daughter. How can you let your father keep talking like Jake’s the villain? How can you cry and wear your fucking funeral clothes the day Lilly’s killer is finally brought to justice? Do you really hate her that much?”
Veronica’s hand was flying through the air before she could even process a thought. Her palm connected with the side of his face in a slap that left both of them stinging.
“Fuck you, Logan! I loved Lilly.” Her voice was like a ragged sheet set ablaze with doubt and pain.
“If you stop for one second and think, without your prejudices against me or for the Kanes, just think… If my dad is right? And Jake Kane did have something do with Lilly’s death? Of course he’d be happy to see the fall-guy go down.”
Logan let his hand fall from his face, revealing the flag of high color she had painted across his cheek. He continued to press her back into the wall and his mouth twisted into the sneer he wore so often now.
“If your dad is right? So you don’t know either, do you? Poor little Veronica Mars, following her daddy blindly, and to hell with everyone else. I guess he’s all that you have left now that your mom ran off with the milk man, or whatever.”
She stiffened and the sneer deepened. He picked up the length of her braid and ran his thumb over a glossy curve before he let it fall through his fingers. Its weight slapped against her chest, just to the left of her breast bone, and the thump might have echoed in the hollow places inside her. “You’re a punk girl now, huh? A cold-hearted ice queen? The pretty pink fairy is dead; long live the bitch.”
And Veronica found that she didn’t care any more. She just wanted to go home and run a bath and soak in it forever. She wanted to let Back-Up clean the tears from her face, and she wanted to play Lilly’s favorite music over and over. She wanted to wallow. She did not want to be trapped in a closet with a psychotic jackass of an ex-friend who somehow managed to find every crack in her façade of satisfied isolation. He’d helped her build it for almost a year, ripping at each weak point with his sharp words. He always managed to find a new chink, and she was growing tired it.
“What do you care, Logan?” So tired. “What do you care what I think about Lilly, or if I want to cut my hair to a mohawk, or anything?”
His hands fell to his sides and he stood up.
“I don’t. I don’t care.”
And maybe she moved past him then, and opened the door and left. Maybe she didn’t see Logan again until the first day of school when he asked how many guys she’d managed to fuck that summer, and if she’d been charging them enough to save up for community college.
Or maybe, when she began to move, she realized he hadn’t moved back as far as she thought, because his hips brushed hers and he drew in a breath. Maybe she followed the sound of that breath and found his face and looked into his eyes again and saw the glint of tears. What if she read in those eyes an answer that was as different from his words as night was from day?
And what if Veronica wrapped her hand around the strong column of his neck and pulled his head down and kissed him, even though his startled reaction knocked over a broom, which clattered to the floor?
BANG
Logan tried not to be hurt when Veronica left him without a word. He gave Keith a brief nod, stepped over the pile of books on the floor and moved towards the door. But suddenly, some smiling face was in front of him asking his opinion on the result of the trial, and about whether he thought he’d reconcile with his father, and did he think Lilly’s killer would ever be caught?
He might have drowned in a sea of questions had Cliff and Keith not closed ranks with him.
“Logan, how do you feel knowing that two of your girlfriends tried to proposition your father?”
And so what if his fist hurt for days, and the bailiffs had bruising grips on his arms as they began to tow him down the hall? It had still been satisfying to watch that jackass from Channel Twelve fall to the floor with a -
BANG
She tasted like strawberries and breakfast cereal. That was all Logan could think as Veronica’s breath feathered across his mouth, as she pressed her pink lips to his and his eyes fell closed. She was like sunshine and innocence against him, and a part of him howled with rage at the lie of it.
So he rewrote the story.
His hands closed on her head and he brought tongues into play as he pressed into her. The fact that her fingers only began to snake through his hair, that her tongue slid along his like a long lost friend, that she pressed back, only made him angrier. He ran his hands down the side of her body, forcing himself to focus on her heat and not on how tiny she really was, until they found her hips and cupped her ass through the short black fabric of her skirt. He sucked slightly on her tongue and then devoured her moan. She hopped instinctively when he pushed up against her ass, so that her legs wrapped around his hips like a sinful belt. He sat her on the narrow shelf and pressed again, the bulge of his cock against the heat of her, with only his pants and her thin cotton - fuck, but it would be cotton for her, wouldn’t it - panties between them.
“Fuck.” The word fell from their mouths simultaneously, as they leaned their foreheads against each other and gazed downward.
And now they were laughing into each other’s mouths even as they continued to run their hands along each others back. The fire of anger was gradually replaced with a fire of a different sort. That didn’t mean the anger wasn’t still there. It didn’t mean that this wasn’t one of the stupidest things he’d ever done. But fuck that. Logan wasn’t going to think about the fucking facts right now. He moved against Veronica again, and the noises she was making meant he was making her happy. And he felt happy. And that was all he could expect from the world, so he was going to fucking take as much as he could.
He tugged at the end of her hateful braid, unraveled her hair until it fell like a shining cloak down her back, cool and sweet like silk against his hands as he held onto her waist.
Logan became aware of other facts. Veronica was rubbing against him. She was smiling against his mouth, against the skin of his neck, each time he groaned in response. Veronica Mars was a minx.
He dropped abruptly to his knees and smirked as she drew a breath to complain about his sudden abandonment. She almost choked on that breath when he set his lips to the small strip of white cotton between her legs. Her hands found purchase on the shelf as she lifted her hips and let him pull the underwear down her thighs, over her calves, and off. He returned to her, moving slowly, darting glances up at her to gauge her reactions as he kissed and licked and twirled his tongue. Her eyes were closed and her bottom lip periodically disappeared between her white teeth… and all the while, her hair hung down, over her shoulders, wild with waves from the tight braid, and so long that, when he flicked her clit just so and her head fell forward while she shuddered, a single lock brushed and then settled on his forehead like an angel’s wing.
She was still flushed and dreamy when he stood back up. She smiled at him as he pulled a condom from his wallet and began to unbuckle his pants while he nuzzled her neck. But she jerked at the rasp of his zipper and her hands clawed into his shoulders as she pushed him away.
“No. No!”
And maybe she was crying again, but Logan couldn’t see her face through the veil of her hair as she searched the floor for her underwear. And if Logan tried to calm her down maybe she would have stayed and explained about that night, and the pain, and what white underwear on the floor meant to her. But maybe Logan didn’t try to calm her down, because maybe nothing had been settled in those few stolen moments of fantasy, and maybe he thought she was playing the bitch queen again. And maybe she was.
Maybe the sound from the supply closet was just the slamming of the door as the girl in black left, and maybe it meant the janitor would find more of his things on the floor after lunch. But, either way, it sounded like -
BANG
Veronica was an island of still despair in a sea of happy faces and fluttering banners. Photographers were primed and ready to snap the picture that would grace the front cover of the ‘Neptune Register’ tomorrow morning. She had been here before, of course. And she hadn’t had her dad there that time. He hadn’t wanted her to come, so she’d snuck in and watched by herself. In the end, the celebration that greeted the punishment of the innocent was nearly equivalent to the merriment which met the release of the guilty, so she’d been able to slip out of the courtroom with no one seeing her. Been able to cry in the bathroom and repair herself with no one interrupting her. And finally she was able to leave, with no one caring about the girl in black.
In the end, nothing changed but the names and dates. People would always be ready to buy a good fiction over hard facts any day.
Or maybe…
Thanks for reading. If you are interested, my other fictions can be found here.