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My attorney called yesterday letting me know that the forensics are back, so Damian and I, along with our lawyers, were asked to come in today to discuss the findings. I glance at myself one last time, hoping I don’t look as terrible as I think I do, and head out the door.
I get into my car, turning on the engine and a song that always reminds me of Damian begins to play. I grip the wheel tightly and close my eyes hoping the ache in my throat goes away. But as the words wash over me, words about finding love when never expecting it, I lay my head down and sob.
It’s not the pretty kind, it’s messy and raw. It’s the kind that shatters every piece of you. The kind that has your body shaking with the fury of your tears. The kind that hurts so much you don’t know if you’ll ever recover, but eventually you do. You pick up the pieces and you go forward because staying behind isn’t an option.
After a failed attempt at making myself look like I didn’t just spend the last fifteen minutes crying, I arrive at the courthouse and spot my attorney in the front. As we walk in together, she asks, “How are you holding up? I know none of this has been easy for you.”
I shrug. “Some days are a little better than others. And sometimes I wake up thinking I’ve imagined it all, and then I see my bruises and come crashing back to reality. I just hope he can come home soon.”
She nods, furrowing her brows. “I hope so too.”
We near the room where the meeting’s going to take place and as we’re about to enter, panic scratches inside me. I stop short, placing my hands on my knees, breathing in and out rapidly.
“Are you all right?” Ms. Silverman asks. “If you need a few minutes, take them. There’s no rush. We’re early anyway.”
My pulse quickens within my temples just as my body breaks out into a sweat. I grab onto the nearby wall and pull air into my lungs. This is too hard. I can’t shake the fear that something bad is about to happen. I just know it.
“Here, take this.” She holds up a paper cup filled with water. I hadn’t even noticed her leaving. I take small sips, and each time cold liquid flows down my throat, my heartbeats slow.
I finish the drink and toss it into a trashcan. I take another deep breath and release it slowly. “Okay, I’m ready.” She opens the door as we walk inside.
Damian’s attorney and Mrs. Thompson are there, but Damian isn’t. We say hello and I take my seat next to my lawyer. “We’re waiting on Mr. Prescott then we will get started,” Mrs. Thompson informs us. She’s her usual pleasant self, riffling through paperwork, not making any eye contact.
There’s an awkward silence in the room as everyone waits for Damian to arrive. I fidget with my hands in my lap, a nervous excitement humming through my system.Come on, where is he?And then my question is answered as the door swings open. A court officer walks in with a handcuffed Damian.I love you, I mouth.
“I love you more,” he says, loudly, and my heart skips a beat, before a smile spreads across my face. Doubt he was supposed to do that, but I don’t care. Those words meant everything. I hadn’t realized how much I needed to hear them until he said them.
“Okay, enough of that, have a seat Mr. Prescott,” Mrs. Thompson scolds. I inwardly roll my eyes.
“Yes, ma’am.” As he sits, I catch a small smirk and bite the inside of my cheek covering up a laugh. He always finds ways to make me feel at ease, even when he isn’t trying.
“Let me cut to the chase so I don’t waste anyone’s time. The forensics have confirmed Ms. McDaniels’ version of events. The way the knife entered the deceased showed that it was done at an angle consistent with someone stabbing him from behind. Therefore, based on all the evidence along with Ms. McDaniels’ confession, I am dropping the involuntary manslaughter charge against you, Mr. Prescott.”
“Oh my God this—” But her narrowed gaze makes my blood run cold, interrupting me.
“I’m not done.” Of course she isn’t, why did I think otherwise? I sink into the chair, gripping the sides.
“As I was saying, the District Attorney’s office has no intention of pursuing manslaughter charges against either one of you.” I clasp my hands tighter around the arms of the chair.Please, just stop talking. Don’t say anything else.
“However,”no don’t finish that sentence, “because of the nature of the case and your interference in a murder investigation, my office will be charging you with Obstruction of Justice, Mr. Prescott.”
“What!” I push my chair back and stand. “You have got to be kidding me! How could you do this, huh? Don’t you have a heart?”
“Sit down, Ms. McDaniels,” she reprimands sternly.
“No! I will absolutelynotsit down.” Placing my palms on the desk, I stare into her cold eyes and lean in closer. “Don’t you think we’ve been through enough? A prisoner escaped onyourwatch, broke into my home and held me at knifepoint. And now you want to dig the knife a little deeper? How dare you!”
“Lilah, please sit down,” Ms. Silverman urges me.
“Baby, it’s gonna be okay.”No, it isn’t!
I ignore them all. The anger brewing within me has found its prey. This vile woman who claims to mete out justice, does nothing of the sort.
“You’ll be removed if you can’t contain yourself,” she adds.Fuck you, you bitch.
My breathing grows heavy, and a panic attack mounts in my chest. But I don’t let it take over, I continue to glare at her, not blinking once.
She clears her throat, eyes downcast for a second before they meet mine. “I’m just doing my job. If you two had been up front from the beginning and not wasted my office’s time, nor the time of the police, we wouldn’t be here.” How dare she judge us?I hate her.
