My Sister's Voice

I felt like an epileptic, with every part of my body trembling, from my lips to my toes. As I made my way to the podium, I negotiated with my nerves to calm just for a few minutes so I could read my sister’s statement for the court. They were hard gamers that day, because I could barely unfold the piece of paper to read off of. I whispered a silent prayer to give me strength before I was interrupted by the judge who asked my name.

“My name is Maegan Serrano, and I am representing my sister today.”

Before I began speaking, I gazed toward the defendant. I tried to make firm eye contact with him, but his eyes preferred to stare at the floor. I looked down at my sister’s words and inhaled a deep breath, hoping to catch some fresh air in the stale, heavy room. As I began to read, it felt as if my voice was separate from me. I couldn’t feel my lips moving, or the words coming off my tongue. It was as if a spirit entered my body and did the talking for me, while I just stood there and endured the painful side effects. All the body heat ran up my veins to my head, making my brain feel too heavy. Palms started clamming up, and heart raced faster than a hummingbird’s wings. Knees started to ache so bad I was worried I would collapse if I moved a millimeter. I didn’t know if I would make though the speech.

When I finally finished, I anxiously made a step forward to leave the podium, but I was stopped once more by the judge. He wanted to understand why I was speaking on my sister’s behalf. I wanted to tell him that it was because my sister wasn’t ready to face the person who flipped her life upside down. She wasn’t ready because she was still mourning the death of her best friend who died right beside her. She wasn’t ready, because the guilty one says it was just an innocent mistake. But I didn’t say a thing because our lawyer rose and answered in the politically correct way:

“Elizabeth is still recovering and requested Ms. Serrano to speak in her place.”

I then proceeded to make my way back to my seat. When I sat down on the dark wooden bench next to my sister, the spirit left from within me, and released all the stinging emotions it kept stored those few moments I spoke. My eyes could no longer hold the floods that stormed along my cheeks and I struggled to keep my cries quiet. Part of me was relieved to know that somewhere deep within me, I had the strength to stand up for my family. As my sister put her arm around my shoulder in comfort, I felt a small reassuring rush of relief that I was able to endure the pain this time, instead of her.

MS (assignment for creative non-fic class)