“You are my accuser, now look in my face”
“I didn’t. I’m sorry. But I didn’t do it,” his honest face was twisted into a frightened, horrified, and helpless mask. His blue eyes begged the solemn jury to see his side. He met not a single sympathetic eye. His pleas fell on deaf ears.
He turned sharply to face his accuser, who was looking at the table, a smug grin on his thin face.
“Look at me,” he demanded. “Why do you do this? I’m innocent.”
“You’re a murderer.”
“No. No, god, no. Why?”
No answer.
“Please, I’m begging you!”
