With a huge punch to the gut, I folded and fell onto the floor.

"That's what you get—you stupid—imbecile—shameless!" the investigator said as he kicked me till he ran out of energy to do so. He grunted and sat on his ankles. "You know, you could reduce your sentence if you just....just silently accept your fate, huh?"

My hands shook as I look at his eyes full of disgust and contempt. I stuttered, "I-I did not...k-kill him.........................GAAAAAAH!!" I choked on my spit when I felt his kick on my stomach one last time.

"You know, I pity you. If not for your blood from a rich bourgeoisie, I'm sure the president must have killed you instantly."

He spit on me and left me wringing from pain on the floor. Gritting my teeth, I cried. My tears wouldn't stop trickling down my face that I could taste the bitterness and saltiness of my soul.

I......am innocent.

I was falsely accused for the murder of a known senator of this country. For convenience, they even labelled me a rebel for creating a well-known animation film centering on youth empowerment. In a wrong turn of events, my most prized creation became my wick of downfall. The president said my film has anti-government propaganda, and I used it to brainwash the youth to go against the government. He even said that I killed the senator, a loyal party member of the president, in my frustrated attempt to fulfill my propaganda. Thus, I was captured alive and treated like a worthless creature in this isolated prison. For four years, I have been enduring abuse and harassment from the investigators, prison guards, and cellmates. My family used to visit me, but as years passed by, they have cared less for my being. This is the first in a very long time that they have given me a chance to escape, yet why an apprentice prosecutor?

In my own cell on a bed, I placed my hand over my head, thinking, "Do they want me dead instead? But why now? They could have just killed me right at that time."

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Clack, clack, clack, clack.

"Hello, Kiefer," a sweet, honey-like voice called my name.

My eyes shifted to glance in the direction of the sound. Oh, it was that woman from yesterday.

I gulped. When I looked at her, I couldn't help but admire her elegance. Her eyes are fearless, yet you can sense fairness and stillness in her. I couldn't look away.

"Mr. Kiefer? I am here to talk about your case that's been pending in court for....four years to be exact. Today marks the fourth year you were captured as a government rebel." She brings out a white box.

I sat up. On instinct, I backed away and hugged my knees. She noticed my reaction, but she didn't leave. Instead, she sat on the floor and placed the white box beyond the bars.

"Orange chicken? I heard from your friends that you loved ordering them."

Sniff, sniff. It is orange chicken!

I rushed to get the box, however, when I saw her face up close, I retracted as I got the box. I returned to my bed and turned away.

"How are you, Kiefer?.............I know, you're disappointed to see that an apprentice prosecutor was sent instead of an attorney of caliber to defend you. You may not believe me, but I can defend you. That is...if we work together...."

Together? I scoffed. "You...were but a number among the lawyers my family hired. I don't know how much they paid you for you to accept a death row case. But you can't change the minds of the judges."

"Who says we can't?"

What?

I looked at her in surprise. She didn't even flinch.

"Judges are humans, too. They may also have errors despite having years of experience in the field. So, who says we can't change their minds before your big day?"

"...............But they are the judges. They can only be a judge after ten years of practice in law...."

She doesn't say a word. She opens the box and eats her own meal.

"Even if you don't believe me, what if I was your only chance to be free?" she asked as she looked at me intently.

I tried to build up the courage to say something to her, but my trauma from years of abuse prevented me. I waited for her to leave, and she did. However, I became bothered when she visited me every day and even told me about her day in her law school.

Scowling, I asked her, "Why? Why do you keep coming back?"

Ignoring my annoyance, she replied, "You are my client, Kiefer. Even if you told me I could just run away with the large sum your family has paid me, my integrity doesn't allow me to do so. Do you hate people with integrity, Kiefer?"

Her question made me gulp and rethink my words. "Integrity....I already forgot that word. It has been out of my dictionary ever since my life turned upside down."