Hinata

I whipped my hands on my pencil skirt. I had been anxious the ever since I woke up this morning. I couldn't control the knot in my stomach. I had never been so nervous in my entire life. What I was wearing wasn't making me feel any better either. My blouse was a bit too tight and my skirt was a bit too short. However, I knew these were all in my head, because I had checked myself on the scale. I had lost almost 10 pounds ever since I was given this trial. Usually such news would have resulted in me jumping up and down for joy, but not now. This was weight loss from stress. Too much stress. The trial was today and I could do nothing but freak out.

I finally been able to prepare something for my defense, but I felt as though I had nothing. I screamed into my hands, trying to keep myself from crying. How had I, rookie attorney Hinata Hyuga, been given the responsibility of defending a felon? Simple, they obviously wanted Gaara to lose. He didn't have a fighting case.

The facts were, he committed murder. Not just any murder. He committed a murder while in the military. Under UCMJ Article 118 Clause 1 or 4, he could be sentenced to death of life imprisonment. There was almost no way around it unless he had probable cause.

However, Gaara was making finding a probable cause incredibly difficult for me. afar a month of meeting with him and trying to speak to him, I had gotten absolutely nothing.

Sometimes, he would just scream and yell at me hysterically almost as if experiencing dementia. Other times he wouldn't speak at all, and then some days, he would just go into a panic attack and would have to be removed so he could calm down. I had also noticed through our meetings that he had these horrid dark circles under his eyes. I guessed he hadn't slept much since his stay. The guards had told me he didn't sleep but I didn't believe them until I started meeting with him.

So there I was, stuck with a suicidal, hyper vigilant, insomniac who also seemed to be a mute. I just didn't understand what could cause him so much anxiety. Well, until two days ago.

I had been reading Ino's old psychology books. It had been her joint major in college. I wasn't really reading to find anything, until I came across a certain article about people who were abused in the military. After reading through most of the cases, I shuttered. How could those women have lived through such a despicable situation? I was so appalled and ready to just stop reading, when the next section caught my eye. It was titled: men in the army. I was intrigued so I read it. It was about a man who had been molested for a year by his superiors while he was in the military. He then went on to talk about his experiences after he left. Some of the symptoms he experienced had been: numbness, loss of memory, vomiting, paralyzing anxiety, hysteria and confusion, increased sensitivity and a number of other things. At that very moment, a certain emaciated red head jumped into my mind. I immediately remembered his words from our first meeting. Well, I remembered what he had written: HE DESERVED TO DIE. I remember at the time I was floored. What could anyone have done to deserve to die in that manner?

That's when all the pieces fell into place. I felt myself get nauseous at the thought and I went to throw up. I didn't make it to the bathroom and ended up throwing up on Sakura's new rug. Damn.

The next day, I called a taxi first thing in the morning. I didn't care about visitation rules. I needed to see my client.

I ran into the prison like a mad person. Frankly, maybe I had become mad with all the stress from this trail. I was going insane. Adrenaline was pumping ever so feverishly through my veins I hadn't even realized that two security guards had grabbed me and were now leading me out. I screamed at them the best I could, telling them they had to let me see Gaara. After what seemed like half an hour of fighting my way from being thrown out, a prison police officer finally listened to what I had to say and then called for the warden. After a 2 hour wait, Gaara stumbled into our meeting spot his eyes as glazed and movements as inconsistent as always. His inconsistency was made even more evident by his chains. I winced with every movement he made. However, something about him was a bit odd. He didn't have the same look of anger or despair as usual. He looked… almost happy. I swallowed hard and whipped my hands on my pants. This was odd.

He staggered into the chair, almost loosing his footing. He stared at me blankly. I swallowed. All of my earlier excitement was gone. I just wanted to leave, now.

However, as I tried to talk myself down, I noticed a few bruises and cuts all over his skin. They hadn't been there the last time I saw him. Had he been picking his skin? I turned my head to look at the guard when Gaara scratched he, more like clawed. He did it once, then again. He just kept clawing at himself. I pleaded with the guard to make him stop before he hurt himself when I saw my case finally get some concrete evidence. There they were, right there, staring at my face. There were visible needle tracks all over Gaara's arms. Whether or not the guard saw them too didn't matter. He quickly tightened Gaara's chains and pulled his sleeves down. With that, Gaara looked back at me. However, this time, his stare wasn't empty or angry. It was almost relieved. He nodded off shortly after. The guards promptly shoed me out of the room and prison. One of them even wished me luck. However, I didn't need luck. I finally had a case. So what if I didn't get a chance to ask Gaara if what I thought happened to him truly did?

I had something almost as good as a rape case. Gaara was on heroin. It had been plain as day? I scolded myself for not noticing it before. The small pupils, the disorientation, the cycles of mood and extreme withdrawal, all the signs had been there. As I gave my taxi cab driver a generous tip, I sighed. I now had a case about a prison that allowed highly dangerous inmates to procure illegal and highly additive substances. Gaara was a heroin addict. Better yet, Gaara had been forced onto a heroin addiction.

1 hour to the trail. I swallowed, hard.

AN: Ok so this story will not be a three-shot. I decided to just make it about 6 chapters long. So the next two chapters will be the trail and the last chapter will be the verdict and finale. Thanks for still reading. Peace.