Faith was led, over a bulky guards shoulder, to a room she had never seen before. A courtroom, it was. Where the trials must have been Faith assumed and where mine will be. Faith glanced toward her dad pleadingly from over the guard's shoulder. Making eye contact, she received a stern look.

“Drop her there,” the Dictator said gruffly. The guards dropped Faith on a wooden bench, having no care to be gentle. Faith’s dad walked over to her, “I’m ashamed with you, Faith. I thought you were better than this.” he sighed. Looking into her dad’s cold eyes, smelling his alcohol reeking breath, she knew she wouldn’t let him mean anything to her.

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“You were never anything to me but a Dictator.” Faith whispered fiercely.

“Good,” the Dictator replied, bending over “because in this trial you will be treated by nothing more than the dirty liar you are.” Straight-faced the Dictator left to go to the bench, tripping along the way, where he would sit and judge. Faith’s mindset was to do precisely what Willow told her, to stand her ground.