Judge Caine began to read, "First charge. When the defendant's mother was unwell, the defendant neither contributed financially nor showed up in person. Defendant, do you plead guilty?"
I licked my cracked lips. Even without a mirror, I knew my face must be deathly pale.
"I do not." My voice was low, but the microphone beside me carried it clearly.
"Very well. Based on the plaintiff's evidence, we will reconstruct the events."
The evidence Judge Caine referred to was my parents' version of events, pieced together from their memories. Only after that would mine be revealed.
The screen immediately shifted to three years ago. Mom had been hit by a car while jaywalking. Since she was at fault, the driver refused to compensate us. Our family had no choice but to accept the loss.
In the hospital, Mom's leg was broken. Sweat beaded across her forehead from the pain.
Cody rushed over from school, while Dad returned from outside the ward, looking dejected as he said, "There's not enough money on the card. Call Bran. Tell him to bring cash."
Cody quickly called me, his voice urgent. "Bran, Mom's been hit by a car. Come to the hospital right away and bring money!"
My quiet reply came through the phone. "I can't make it. Um…"
Before I could finish, the call was cut. Cody slammed his phone down in anger and turned to Mom, saying, "Bran says he's not coming, and he won't give any money. What kind of brother do I have?"
Mom burst into tears. "I raised him all these years, and this is what I get? I'm dying, and I can't even see him once. Why is my life so miserable?"
From the gallery, my relatives erupted in outrage, pointing at me as they cursed.
"Brandon, do you even have a conscience? When you had a high fever as a kid, your family wasn't well off, and your mom carried you miles in the middle of the night to find a doctor. Now that you're grown up, is this how you repay her? How could you be so heartless?"
When I was a kid? I let out a cold laugh. Mom really had put on a flawless act.
I'd only developed a fever because she was busy playing poker. I told her early on that I didn't feel well. She snapped, secretly kicking me, her voice vicious in my ear. "You're blocking my luck, you jinx! Get lost. It's just a little fever. Why are you whining? You're such a dramatic kid!"
In the end, I said nothing. I went home, curled up in bed, and drifted in and out of sleep.
When Mom came back, she didn't even notice me. She tiptoed to Cody's bedside and gently kissed him.
It was only when my aunt came by and noticed something was wrong. She touched my forehead, only to find it burning hot, and quickly told Mom.
Mom played the devoted parent act perfectly in front of people, treating me well only when others were around. Even when my aunt insisted on driving me to the hospital, Mom acted as if she hadn't heard, carrying me and rushing out the door.
The story quickly spread throughout the neighborhood. Everyone said Mom loved me most.
But that night, the doctor said I had nearly burned my brain out, questioning why they had waited so long to bring me in. Mom couldn't answer.
Of course she couldn't. She had been too busy playing poker to even make me dinner. The only thing I had to drink was cold water. No child's stomach could've handled that.
Back in the present, Mom looked at me with a smug expression, as if certain I had no way to defend myself. After all, it was true that I hadn't gone to the hospital or given them money.
I had to admit, my parents were good at choosing incidents that favored them.
Even so, Mom continued her tearful performance, her tears seemingly for me, but in reality, they were for the relatives watching.
