Anticipation

Today's Sunday Scribblings question: What are you looking forward to, for better or worse?

Angie stared straight ahead, not looking to the left, not looking to the right. Just staring straight ahead, not able to focus on anything. She could feel her nervousness deep down in the pit of her stomach. If only she could focus on something, anything. But there was nothing near her that offered any kind of distraction.

She needed a distraction. Something to take her mind of the clock. Something to make her stop hearing the clock, the sound of the second hand to taking what seemed like hours to tick from one second to the next. Something to take her mind off the burning itch that seemed to consume her wrists and ankles. If only she could go back in time or better yet just fast forward a bit. If only she could do something, anything to bring about an ending, whatever that ending might be.

Her eyes barely registered the heaviness they were beginning to feel. Her head growing heavy, her mind becoming fogged with sleep. Everything she'd just heard tumbled around in her head until it formed a jumble of words so thick she couldn't comprehend anything any more. She knew that everything she'd said was true, but, mixed with everything everybody else had said, it made no sense. Hopefully they would figure out that someone was lying. Hopefully they'd realize that she was telling the truth, the whole truth, and nothing but the truth. Hopefully they'd realize this before it was too late, before something terrible had happened. Something that couldn't be taken back.

She jolted awake as she heard the door clank open. “Come on, Angie. Get up. It's time to go back to the courthouse. The jury's made their decision.”