A young girl stood with a look of determination upon her face. In front of the whole of her leaders who were charging her with an awful crime, she did not waver.

“You, Miss- ah, what's your name, child?” the old man asked.

“I don't give my name to just anyone,” the girl said casually, rocking on the balls of her feet. “That right has to be earned. But I can tell you the name appointed to me by the state.” She gave him a smile.

“Alright,” the man obliged warily. “What's the name the state gave you?”

“Everyone there calls me Blaze. It's a real name, you can check it.” The girl looked up with her big brown eyes. “Better than Apple, Blanket, or North, if you ask me.”

“Good to know. Alright, Miss Blaze, you are being charged with attempted murder, treason, breaking and entering, trespassing,” the old bailiff listed. The list went on and on, but I doubt you want to read all the many charges laid on the young girl. All through the listing, she twisted her blonde hair around her finger and idly tapped her sneakers on the floor.

“And lastly, kidnapping. What do you have to say to these charges?” the bailiff asked.

“What do I have to say?” the girl asked as she sat up in her chair. “Well, I have a lot of things to say, but which ones won't get me into more trouble than I already am? I guess I'll just settle for this question. Since when has it been legal to put a minor on trial without a social worker?”

“This isn't your typical case,” the judge announced over the whispers that arose from the small crowd.

“And,” the girl interrupted as she stood with a look of fury in her eyes, “where's the jury? There isn't one. Is that because of the uniqueness of the case as well? Or am I just being denied my rights?”

“What rights?” the judge commanded. “Rights shouldn't be given to a serial killer!” He slammed the gavel on the desk in front of him.

“Serial killer?” the girl said angrily. “Serial killer? Please, explain to me why you're laying these charges on a fourteen year old!”

“You're one of the experiments!” the judge declared. “I know you've killed people! And quite a few!”

“How could I, a person still considered a child by the whole of the world, be a mass murderer?”

“Easily!” the judge shouted. He held up a photo of a women brutally stabbed to death. “Look at this woman! You did that to her!”

“You have no evidence.” Something must have dawned on her, because a knowing smile formed on her face. “You don't know who did it, who committed any of these murders, so you're blaming it on the one person who's run from the government her whole life- me.” She laughed. “Where's your evidence, Mr. Judge? Huh? Because I've got mine. Tell me, sir, when was that murder committed? I need a date and time, please.”

“February 7th, 1994 at 7:30 PM,” the bailiff read off a file.

The girl let out another laugh. “I can already prove my innocence of this murder!” She turned to face the audience. “I wasn't even born! That murder was committed six years and two days before I was born! I could give you hours if you'd like.” She gaze fell once again on the judge.

“What about the others?” the judge said. “You could have easily committed the others!”

“The question is,” the girl asked, placing her hands on the table and leaning forward, “despite the fact that I know I'm innocent, and that I'm being deprived of my rights as a citizen of this country, the question is this: do you have the proof?”

The man threw on a triumphant smile as he sat straighter in his throne. “The answer: I don't need it.”