Ass needles in church pews

The courtroom looked more like a church than a club, but the ambiance was definitely arena rock. The front row seats were reserved for special guests. Like relatives of the victims and relatives of the perpetrators. Why they would want to sit next to each other I didn't really understand. And perhaps they didn't, because many of those seats gaped empty, save the little white reserved-signs that were scotch-taped to the backs. The rest of the room filled up with members of the press. They were noisy and restless; stirring and making notes and scanning the room suspiciously.
The back rows where were for people like us. There were other teenage girls that sat together in little clusters, much like the one I had formed with my new soul mates. It's funny how a taste for cigarettes and goth rock can truly bring people together.
The seats were hard like church pews and definitely not made for slumping. Not that I wasn't planning on doing that anyway, but my ass was hurting before anything had begun. But I forgot all about that as the back doors swung open and the buzz of voices came to an abrupt halt. Before we could see we heard something akin to the sound of clattering hooves. The room collectively held its breath. The clattering turned into an echoing thunder and everyone had turned around in their seats.
But somehow we already knew. And there he was, Juha, pint-sized and straight-backed, with wild hair. Hand-cuffed in a bright red sweater, jeans and cowboy boots. He took his seat next to his lawyer, Pelle Svensson, who happened to be an ex-boxer and a celebrity attorney of sorts. A lady just in front of me mumbled: Oh good lord, and clasped her hands in prayer. I don't know if she found Juha as beautiful as I did. Lisa poked her elbow in my ribs. I yearned for Juha to see me. I straightened my back as much as I could and craned my neck. But he wasn't looking. He was whispering with his lawyer. I tried to will his attention. Right then I wanted nothing more than to sink down into the bottomless wells that were his eyes. I had decided, it was better to sink than to swim. There had to be euphoria in knowing the lungs would eventually give in.
We should always know that.