Another chance

by Ferencelvtars


Chapter 1/epiloge

If someone said that suits are comfortable, they're lying, but today I have to wear one nonetheless. For others, today is just a regular school day, but for me, I have to rot here in court. Here I sit because my father, even at the age of 16, refuses to accept that I won't dance to his tune.

My father has caused so much pain in the past, but I haven't given in to him. However, somewhere along the line, everyone around me only thought of themselves, while it was close to my heart, and to my vivid imagination, that my life should be good, if not as good as everyone else's.

Finally, at the trial, I could say that I don't want to see my father's ugly face unless it's in a forced labor camp, considering all the things he's done, which would take more hours than anyone's life can afford to recount.

"Rise! Before the honorable Judge János Kenevics," murmured a police officer, embarrassing the sheriff of the town. I didn't understand why the judges need to stand up when he enters, of course, it's tradition, but it's as meaningful as splashing water during Easter.
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The room fell silent, and I am sure my son will finally be free from the torment his father has inflicted on him for years. When we entered, I could already see that my son didn't look at him with hatred as he always did, just with indifference, a poker face.

The judge began the trial, which started off smoothly. Then the prosecutor spoke. "The court calls the defendant, Ferenc Németh, to the witness stand." Though many didn't notice, I did see my son tremble a bit. As he sat down, he took a deep breath before they placed a Bible in front of him. He placed his right hand on the book and raised his left hand. He complied with the instructions.

"I swear by the one true God that I will tell the truth and only the truth, and if I break this oath, may I burn eternally in hell," he said, to which the judge raised an eyebrow slightly, but it didn't bother him significantly.

"Well, Mr. Ferenc, you and your mother initiated this lawsuit so that you never have to see your father again," began his father's lawyer.

"Yes, why? I'm curious what legal trick you're going to pull now to start by accusing my mother of raising me against him?" The lawyer raised his eyebrow, but quickly continued.

"Seems like you watch too many courtroom dramas. What argument do you have to terminate my client's right to contact? After all, it's quite obvious that his father doesn't pose a threat to himself." To this, Ferenc quickly formulated a few sentences, and I didn't know what to expect.

"Unfortunately, my only argument won't please you. My life doesn't consist of enough hours to recount even a fraction of the immeasurable pain, torment, and suffering caused by your," he raised his hand with emphasis, "client," though by doing so, he violates the rights of all his other clients, but that's not my concern, "to us." There was a quiet murmur in the room.

"Order in the court," the judge pounded his gavel. "Please continue."

"Thank you, Your Honor. Well, Ferenc claims that life doesn't consist of enough hours, but I ask him to give just a little, as even a fraction is better than nothing." My son was a little startled by this and swallowed hard before finally speaking.
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"I truly apologize, Counselor, but at the moment, I don't intend to, nor will I give you a trump card. If I start to speak, you will use ambiguities and half-truths to prove that I was raised against my father. So, I choose to exercise my right to remain silent."

The trial proceeded smoothly; I felt like I could outmaneuver their little games. Then, after the rest of the witnesses, the judge retired for deliberation, followed by a 15-minute break. Outside the courtroom, there was a small square, the main square of the city, and across from it, a neat little pastry shop. I wasn't exactly calm, but I thought a slice of Black Forest cake would do me good. As I was eating inside, enjoying the delicious slice filled with cream, chocolate chunks, and cherry sauce, someone unexpected walked in. It was my father, not exactly happily.

"Hello, my son!" he began with the usual sweetness. I quickly finished the remaining cake and forced it down my throat, which hurt like hell, but at that moment, I didn't care, and I hurriedly left, shutting out most of his voice, except for one sentence. "You'll regret this. Your lies won't continue to ruin your life. I'll free you from this tyrant." Then I heard a loud bang, followed by screaming, and then... To be continued.