My grip on the armrest was so hard that my knuckles must have turned white.
Anger boiled inside me like a witch’s cauldron barely containing itself and the loud voices of other people in the room sounded like a roaring babble in my head.
I refused to believe the verdict that had just been handed out, but the smirk on his lips and the sneer in his eye’s said it all as I looked at him with burning intensity.
Justice has just let the man who abused and violated me walk away free; in fact, the defense counsel tarred and feathered my image till I could barely recognize the strumpet that they portrayed me to be.
It’s not over! Not by half a mile! I have a plan and he won’t know what hit him like a ton of bricks.
© Jacqueline Oby-Ikocha