The happenings of each month

I walked into the room staggeringly looking at the tense environment in front of me. A pin drop wouldn’t have gone unnoticed and the eerie silence of the full courtroom added to the feelings of unknown that had plagued me for the past few days. I had spent my time in a damp and small cell. The walls were cracked and reeked of urine from its previous occupant, leaving yellow marks in the corners. The puffy bags underneath my tired eyes told of the loud bangings on the wall of the cell beside me, it housed another inmate who was finding it increasingly hard to stay sane. As much as I dreaded this day, I was overjoyed to be away from the mind-numbing confinement of my cell and the constant probing and injections. I walked into the courtroom as the white uniforms in front of me brought back feelings of intense fear, and my brain seemed to have associated black stripes with an impending disaster.

“Please take a seat,” one of the officers said, as he directed me to the wooden chair positioned directly in front of the judge. He is a 40 something year old man who looked out of his glasses as if he didn’t need them in the first place. It could be my inherent distrust of everyone who was involved in the process but he reeked of privilege and prejudice and looked at me with a certain kind of curiosity I couldn’t explain. Just exactly the kind of man who wouldn’t understand my plight I thought, as I sat down, aware of the restrictions the handcuffs had on my posture and trying my best to put up with the discomfort they inflicted.

Even though my eyes had met briefly with that of the judge, I had dissociated completely from the other members of the room, some of which I knew a little too much. I didn’t want to admit they were mere inches away from me, nor did I want to look in the direction of the panel of jury located to my right. Maybe they might assume my crouched posture and heavy eyes as desperate attempts at garnering sympathy, or perhaps they might award me some pity, the two things I was getting really sick of.

“Do you have anyone defending on your behalf today Miss Olivia?” The judge said, as he flipped through a large book in front of him maintaining his piercing gaze outside the perimeters of his spectacles.

I had been assigned a public defender and even had a few minutes to put up my best defence, but since I wouldn’t be paying him, I wondered if my case was something he could have decided to pass on. Either that, or he was running dangerously late to a very important proceeding. I bit my bottom lip silently praying for him to burst through the doors, as my defence was something only another person could say with a certain level of conviction, that would reduce how bonkers it sounds. I certainly wouldn’t want to represent myself.

“Miss Olivia?” The judge repeated, as he exchanged his current book for another passed to him by the court clerk.

“Yes,” I finally said.

“Yes, I have been assigned to Mr Sedaf and l wasn’t informed of any new develop-“

My sentence was interrupted by a loud rush through the doors and a couple of low pitched apologies, breaking the silence noticeable in the room prior. A scruffy looking man walked towards me, extending his hands as if to remind me I was no longer allowed the common courtesy of a handshake, since I was now part of society’s rejects. As Mr Sedaf adjusted his poorly done tie and cast a glance towards the prosecutor's side of the court, the judge announced the beginning of the proceedings.

“Miss Olivia, I take it you must have been briefed on how today will go,” he said. His focus on me caused discomfort despite his non-confrontational countenance.

“You have been accused of assault, harassment and threats based on your unlawful actions on the 24th of November, which left a couple of your victims bound to the floor, traumatised and claiming you wanted to kill them,” he continued, reading through what I assumed to be the file on my case.

This was the first time I had been read the charges I was dealing with, and whilst I was surprised by the new additions, I had become increasingly numb to the exaggerated perceptions of those that were present on that fateful day.

“Do you understand the allegations of the facts? ”

I looked briefly at Mr Sedaf, who I suspected in the midst of trying to organise the many documents in front of him didn’t hear a word. But he nodded affirmative, after which I eventually replied yes.

“The prosecuting team, over to you,” the judge concluded.

The prosecuting team comprised of a tall woman with dark hair and a shabby looking outfit. She stepped to the front before walking back and forth with no other logical aim, other than to create a theatrical effect as the sounds of her 2 inched stiletto shoes echoed through the silent room.

Continuing in a very dramatic fashion, she turned to the jury, pausing awkwardly before addressing them.

“Members of the jury, to kick off my argument, I will be inviting witnesses who will give you a clear picture of the events that occurred on the 24th of November. I do not doubt in my mind that these accounts will be all that you need, to put Miss Olivia where she belongs, away from the civilisation of society,” she said, as she turned towards the first witness.

“Mr Rowland, could you please step up to the stand?” She asked, as she directed him to a seat close to the judge.

After swearing to tell the truth, which I suspect Daniel, my very impatient ex-boyfriend with a short attention span would have dreaded, it was finally time to hear his account of the story.

“Mr Rowland could you please tell us what happened on the 24th of November when Olivia came over?”

Daniel looked at me briefly, his glances jumping quickly to that of the prosecutor before clearing his throat.

“I hadn’t spoken to Olivia in 3 months since we had broken up. She took the breakup really well and we both decided we were the causes of each other’s stagnancy at that moment in time. To me, she seemed accepting of our decision to part ways.”

At this point, the prosecuting lawyer interupted, clearly irritated that Daniel hadn’t started by painting the jealous and obsessive character she had hoped would sway the jury.

“So what happened on the 24th when she came uninvited to your apartment despite your claims that she took the breakup well?” She said hurriedly and impatiently, slurring some of her words in the process.

My lawyer noticed this rogue tactic and intervened.

“Objection!” He screamed. “My colleague is asking leading questions and forcing the witness to skim over potentially important details.”

“Objection sustained,” the judge replied, looking directly at the prosecutor.

“Miss Wilderburg, please let the witness finish before asking questions and please refrain from suggestive insinuations.”

Like a little kid in the middle of an argument between his parents, Daniel’s glances alternated between both lawyers before settling on me, after which he continued.

“It was not until the 24th that I realised I might have been wrong after all. She knocked on my door, and at first, I assumed her to be drunk. We caught up on things and one thing led to another and we kissed. She made it quite clear she had missed sex with me especially on that particular day. After we got dressed, I asked politely what time Olivia would be leaving as I was supposed to meet a friend for dinner. And that’s when it all began.”

“What began?” The prosecutor asked with sarcasm tainted encouragement in anticipation of a climactic point in his story.

“Suddenly, she got really upset, sobbing and accusing me of trying to get rid of her even though we hadn’t seen each other in months. I tried to explain I wasn’t expecting her and that’s when I noticed there was something wrong. Before my eyes, Olivia began to transform into a bull. ”

At this point, the whole court was filled with murmurs, and confusion filled the air.

The prosecutor once again jumped in to clarify this all-important part of the case which I knew deep down was mere nonsense.

“A bull? Can you describe the bull?”

“Yes Ma'am. I looked away for less than a second at my ringing phone. Once I looked back, Olivia had transformed into a bull who was now launching an attack towards me. I was shaken, shocked and scared for my life. I tried to run but she soon caught up with me, staring deeply into my eyes before running off. And before she did, she told me she would kill me.”

“Thank you, Mr Rowland, you can go back to your seat,” the prosecutor said, as she ushered Daniel away from the stand.

“I would like to invite the second witness, Miss Humpert.”

Miss Humpert a short and pretty woman with bright clothes, took the stand. I had only spoken to her a couple of times before the incident and wondered what she would say.

“I was working on the 24th of November, it was in the early hours of the morning and I had just opened up the shop. Suddenly Miss Olivia came through the door, crying. Out of courtesy, I asked if everything was good. She pointed to the house by my shop and told me she was having some problems with her ex partner whom she was still in love with, to which I replied with my apologies. Miss Olivia then proceeded to ask for a liquorice and lobster cake. As you can already imagine, such a combination is ludicrous and we don’t offer such flavours. I tried to explain this to Miss Olivia who instead went into a meltdown. She began to cry and that’s when it happened. Just like Mr Rowland described, Miss Olivia transformed into a bull. She launched towards me, and told me she was going to kill me, before pulling off and running away into the distance, causing distress to the passerby’s who also ran for their lives.”

After Miss Humpert’s testimony, the judge looked at my lawyer as the entire court murmured once again.

“Mr Sedaf, do you have anything to say in defence of your client before the third witness is invited to the stand? ”

He got up, clearing his throat as he adjusted his tie.

“Yes, your honour.”

Facing the court, and the jury, Mr Sedaf presented my defence, the only defence to these subjective descriptions of what happened on that day. How do you explain being possessed by a raging bull on certain days of the month?

“My client,” he coughed.

“My client, your honour, was on the first day of her menstruation. She wasn’t herself.”

The judge wore a look of confusion as he posed a question that everyone in the court wanted to know.

“And how would you explain the sightings of this “bull” Mr Sedaf?”

“Folieu a deux or folie à plusieurs, a transmitted shared psychosis, your honour. Miss Humpert, Mr Rowland and all those who witnessed the bull had been isolated in a pandemic for years which eventually induced hallucinations such as these,” he said, before facing the court to continue his prepared defence.

Good one Mr Sedaf, good one, I thought, as his chiselled face morphed into my bedside lamp.

I had awoken from a dream to my fiancé, Daniel, staring at me in confusion with his large pair of judgmental eyes and my bedsheet soaked in blood.

I wonder if he saw the bull.