Murder.

The word echoed into the black depths of Namjoon's mind. They were accusing him of murder.

I didn't kill him! He wanted to scream. Why would I kill my best friend?

The boy wanted to go on a rampage at that moment. He wanted to crush the small microphone in front of him to bits, rip up all the pieces of paper in the jury's hands, and strangle his own lawyer for not believing in him. He wanted the entire court to look the way he felt, but Namjoon controlled himself.  

He tentatively turned back to look at the onlooking audience behind him, and his dead friend's parents caught his eye.

They glowered at him menacingly, their faces unhealthily pale and streaked with tears. The people he had once considered as 'close friends' only looked at him in horror. As if he wasn't human; as if he was a wild beast.

Namjoon could only pivot back around to escape from their frightening stares. He heard the shuffle of footsteps and clothing as the ten people from the jury and the judge came back from their 'meeting,' having decided on a verdict. They all looked upon Namjoon solemnly. The judge leaned forward to speak into her microphone. She sealed Namjoon's fate then.

He was pronounced 'guilty as charged' and would spend the rest of his life locked up in a suffocating cell as someone wrongly accused.

The young boy felt salty tears roll down his cheeks as two burly men rushed up to haul him to prison, flanking him on both sides.

Namjoon took one last look at the audience and caught sight of his father. Instead of the stares everyone else was giving him, the man smiled at his son; a sad, sorrowful smile before mouth, 'I believe in you.'

Namjoon's mortified expression eased a bit. His chest heaved as a shaky sigh escaped him. A ghost of a smile tugged at Namjoon's own lips.

He wasn't alone. There was someone out there who had faith in him.