After three months of waiting, the day is finally here. The day of the trial. My emotions are everywhere as I pull the simple black dress over my head. I feel relief that, after today, this will, almost, all be over. Justice will be served. But the other, more powerful feeling, has me running to the bathroom every so often to empty the contents of my stomach. At this point, the toilet seat has been permanently up since the night before and the door is already open with the light on as if it's expecting me. Which, according to my frequent trips last night, it probably is. The boys took turns getting up with me. I didn't mean for them to get up, but you can only violently expel bile out of your body so quietly. I did try, even closed the bathroom door, to no avail.
Peeking his head in, Damon stops to look at me. My hair is pin straight, my face is brighter with the minimal makeup I put on, and the dark attire contrasts with my porcelain skin. Overall, I look put together if you don't look at the scars running up my calves. Walking back over to my dresser, I pull out black stockings to cover them up.
Pulling the flimsy material out, I walk over to the bed and take a seat, the bed dipping underneath my weight. Bunching up the material, I place my right foot through the folds and start to pull it further up, I don't make it beyond my ankle before Damon's voice stops me.
"Wait."
My hands pause their movement, my eyes raising from my feet to meet Damon's eyes as he walks further into the room. His all black suit is tight against his arms and torso, highlighting the muscle underneath. It looks perfect on him.
Breaking me from my staring, Damon kneels down in front of me, taking the stockings out of my hands. "Let me."
"Damon, I can do it."
"I know."
No other words are exchanged as he guides my left foot through the material, kissing the scar running up my calf along the way. "Damon," I say with an edge to my voice.
He looks up at me, hearing the tone of my words. "You're beautiful. You have nothing to be embarrassed or shameful about. They just show how strong you are."
His words are meant to make me feel better, but looking back over the past year, I see how weak I have been. I leave one haunting experience only to create my own on a daily basis. The therapist I have been seeing helps with these thoughts and my perception of these events, but they are not with me on a daily basis. They only see what they want to see - what I show them in that moment. They don't hear the snarky voice. They didn't see me lying half-dead on the floor. They don't feel the scars that mark my body - the ones that don't let me forget. And today, I get to face the man who started my downward spiral and get justice. This day marks the start of something new and I am going to embrace it with both arms. It may not be the one who ruined me, but he is responsible for me ever coming in contact with that man and, for now, that is enough.
"Rose," Damon says, his voice stern. He knows the thoughts in my head. He knows where I disappear to. He is my savior. Drifting my eyes back to him, they focus on his hands. "Stay with me. You belong here with me." My savior.
Satisfied that my eyes are now focused again, he continues rolling the stocking up my calf. My left leg is almost all the way up while my right is still free. The scar isn't as pronounced, but you can still see smaller scars tainting the skin. Damon takes his time to kiss each one as he pulls the material over the calf.
He rises to his feet and I follow his actions. Bunching my dress at my hips, he pulls the stockings the rest of the way up. Letting go of my dress, I adjust it back into place.
"It's time to go. Are you ready?"
I nod silently. As ready as I'll never be. Giving me his arm, we walk side by side out of our bedroom, down the stairs and into the car where Brandon is waiting patiently for us.
"Are you ready? Do you need to use the bathroom?" Brandon asks.
It's his way of politely asking if I am going to make it to the courthouse before I puke up my guts again. Truth is, I have no idea, but the uneasiness has settled for now so I once again mutely nod. Giving me a quick nod back, we get into the car. Damon and Brandon sit in the front, at my insistence, while I sit in the back, my body leaning against the door. I try to focus on what the boys are talking about but my mind is distracted by the whispered thoughts. I try to shake it off, but no matter what I try, the dark clouds won't dissipate today.
1… 2… 3… 4… I try to count the trees as a means of distraction as we pass the expansive forest. It helps.
"Rose." Again they have to call my name to get my attention. Can't I just get my life together?
Bringing my eyes back inside the car, they are both giving me worried looks. "I'm fine," I stress.
"We know. Just know that we are with you today. You are not alone," Brandon says, keeping his eyes locked on mine.
Brandon has been a massive help too. He helps with the daily things such as getting me out of my own thoughts and making sure I don't forget to eat. He's the best friend - brother - I could ever ask for. I don't know what I would do without him.
"Alright. We are here."
My brows furrow looking around. When did we get here?
The building in front of me is not what I expected. It's not big and white like the ones you watch in those tv shows. Instead it is an unassuming brown building with a modest parking lot.
Damon opens my car door for me and gives me his arm. Brandon copies his actions on my other side. Wrapping my arms around theirs, we walk in the building, side by side like it was always meant to be.
The closer I get, the more shallow my breathing gets. Focus. In. Out. In. Out. The familiar queasiness is back and I know I won't make it. Detangling my arms from the boys, I run to the nearest bathroom, slamming into the door with my body. I barely make it to the stall before bile violently passes my lips. It burns my throat and makes tears leave my eyes. I faintly hear the door open and close as I grab a piece of toilet paper to wipe my lips with. Putting my hand against my sweaty forehead, I try to gather myself.
A hand rubs my back soothingly. It's up and down pace helps stabilize my breathing. A few minutes of this and I feel ready.
Throwing the toilet paper into the porcelain bowl, I stand up and then flush. The hand on my back guides me to the sink where I rinse out my mouth. Wordlessly, Damon pulls a mint out of his pocket and hands it to me.
"Thank you."
Walking back out of the bathroom, we head into the courtroom. It's empty aside from the boys' parents. They give me small smiles as I walk passed them and up to the front. Walking through the gate-like door that separates the spectators from those actually involved with the case, I feel fear wrap around my throat. It makes it hard to breathe. I stop walking, trying to regain some oxygen that was cut off. Damon notices my halt and walks over to me where I am clawing my throat.
"Rose. Rose. Listen to me. You are okay. I am with you. I need you to calm down. Can you find three things in the room that are blue?"
Through the fog in my brain I take in his words, my eyes darting around to different parts of the room.
His eyes. His eyes are blue. They remind me of calm waves in the ocean flowing in and out from the shore. They shine brightly in the sunlight streaming in through the windows. I feel as my body starts to calm down, all my energy focused on his eyes.
"Good girl. That's it."
His words encourage me. I see the different flecks of blue that make up his iris. Light and dark blues combine to create something beautiful.
Finally regaining control, I move my eyes away from his and walk over to my seat like we rehearsed with the lawyer.
Damon sits next to me. His hand finds mine, intertwining our fingers. "Thank you."
Slowly, the courtroom begins to fill. Our lawyer comes up to us, Brandon sits directly behind me, his hand on my shoulder. The defense attorney shows up, his briefcase close to bursting open, followed by the security guards.
My breath gets caught in my throat as I see, for the first time, the man who kidnapped me. He doesn't look like I thought. Instead he is a man in his late 50s - possibly early 60s - with salt and pepper hair that is slicked back, a strong posture, and an evil smirk playing on his lips. Does he think he is going to get away with what he did to us?
Before I have any more time to contemplate, the judge enters.
"All rise." We all stand up, the judge taking his seat behind the large podium. "Please be seated."
They then state our case and the different parties involved. The first witness, the man who ordered me to be kidnapped is called up to the stand by our lawyer.
"Do you recognize the two parties sitting at the table?" He asks the man while pointing at Damon and I.
"No." His answer is quick, rehearsed.
"Let me remind you that you are under oath," our lawyer states. "Let me state it another way, have you ever seen or spoken the names of my clients?"
Is it possible that he is telling the truth? Does he even know who I am?
"Yes."
I wait for him to say more, but nothing else leaves his lips.
"How do you know them?"
"They framed my business for their own mistake," the defendant answers, venom in his words.
"This is how you know both of my clients?" Our lawyer asks, emphasizing both.
"The girl was collateral damage."
5 months in a dark basement being tortured is collateral damage? I feel my blood boil, the need to yell and hit this man igniting my body. I feel fire flow through my veins as hatred overpowers every other thought, every other emotion.
Damon notices the trembling in my hand, the darkness of my eyes. Leaning over, he whispers "stay calm. This is what he wants. We will have our turn to tell our stories. Be strong, my pretty flower."
His words soothe me by only a fraction. I am ready to face this man, all earlier feelings of uncertainty and nervousness are gone. Justice will be served.
"What do you mean by 'collateral damage'?" Our lawyer asks. He's got him now.
"I knew I had to steal her away from that trash sitting next to her and show her the life she should be living."
I squeeze Damon's hand as his goes slack in mine. It's my turn to comfort him. "I love you. Nothing you or anyone else can do or say will ever change the way I feel about you."
"So, you admit to kidnapping my client?"
The defendants' laughter echoes around the room, shocking everyone due to its sharp contrast against the silence previously permeating the room.
"No, I did not kidnap your client."
"Did you have any part in the kidnapping of my client?"
"No."
Now what? I know he is lying, but what can we do to make him admit his guilt?
"Then what did you mean by 'steal her away'?"
"I had some associates bring her to her rightful home."
"Did she willingly go?"
"She must have been comfortable. She slept the whole trip."
Sleep?! I was knocked out by his so-called associates! The need to scream these words is overwhelming but I swallow them down for Damon's sake. He is right, we will get our turn.
"How would you know that?"
"My associates informed me."
"Did either of my clients sustain injuries while on your property or in your presence?"
"Yes, but they were all self-inflicted, I assure you."
"Self-inflicted?"
"Yes."
Turning away from the defendant, our lawyer looks to the judge. "Please bring up the images of my clients' sustained injuries following their removal of the defendant's captivity."
Picture after picture of Damon and I flash on the screen. Our battered and bruised bodies take up the screen, nothing is left unseen."
Gasps fill up the room, but I ignore them, opting to stare at the man in front of me as triumph shines brightly in his eyes. Feeling my stare, his eyes shift from the photo of my naked torso where whip marks, scars, scabs and other evidence of abuse are visible. He sends me a smirk and a wink.
The same fire, muted by Damon's touch, roars through my veins. I remove my hand from his, placing it on the table in front of me, ready to push off and attack the man in front of me. Pushing my chair back, I get ready to jump. Brandon's hand on my shoulder is forceful as it pushes me back down in my chair. My head whips towards him, my eyes glaring at him for stopping me. He wouldn't understand.
"We will get our turn," Damon whispers. How could he be so calm?
My glare shifts to him. Looking at him, my glare falters as I see the same fire glowing in his eyes. He's not calm.
Pushing my chair back in, I take a deep breath and put my hand back into Damon's awaiting one.
"Are you telling me these are all self-inflicted?"
"Yes. I never touched either one of your clients."
I know he's telling the truth - at least for me. He's not the bad man. I would know.
Again, our lawyer looks away from the defendant and to the judge. "Please pull up the defendant's bank statements that were submitted."
The bank statement looks like any other except for two large identical costs from around the time that Damon and I were each kidnapped.
"Could you explain these charges of $50,000 that occur twice on these statements, more than a year apart?"
"I donate to charity."
"What is the name of this charity?"
"Exactly as it says, 'The Lucifer Foundation.'"
"Please let it be known that after extensive research done by my firm, there is no charity by that name." Turning away from the judge, our lawyer looks back at the defendant. "Let me ask again, what were these charges for?"
"Recruitment services for my company."
"What is the purpose of these services?"
"To recruit people for my company?"
"If that is the case, why are they not paid to the HR department of your company who typically handle recruitment?"
"These were special cases?"
"Why?"
"They needed to be recruited immediately."
"Who is 'they'?"
"Your clients."
Got him! I feel my heart lift as he is so close to incriminating himself.
"What were they being recruited for?"
"I already told you, they framed my company."
"What did you do when you recruited them?"
"I showed them how an actual business was run."
"How did you do that?"
"I left them with some of my best staff to show them the errors of their ways."
"What did your staff do to and I quote 'show them the errors of their ways'?"
"I am not sure what my staff did. I no longer had anything to do with your clients."
Realizing the circle the defendant's testimony went in, our lawyer declares that he has no further questions and returns to his seat next to Damon.