June's POV
A week had passed since the verdict, but the weight of the trial still lingered. I couldn't shake the feeling that I was being watched, even though I knew it was just paranoia creeping in. I had gone back to work at the school, trying to find comfort in the routine, but the kids' questions weren't enough to pull me out of my thoughts. It was like my brain was stuck in a loop, replaying the courtroom scenes over and over—especially Aiden's outburst.
"You'll regret this!" His voice echoed in my mind, the venom in his words sending a chill through me. What if he really meant it? What if he came after us?
After school, I found myself standing outside my mom's bakery. I looked up at where the sign was, and slightly gasped, the sign was back as it was. It didn't even look like it was bent at an odd shape before. I had to give it to Mr Stahom, his people did a good job.
The familiar scent of fresh bread and sugar pulled me in, offering a momentary sense of calm. I needed the comfort of home, of my mom's voice, to drown out the creeping fear that had started to settle in my bones.
"June!" My mom's eyes lit up when she saw me. She wiped her hands on her apron, her face softening in that way only a mother's could.
"You haven't been by in a while. Everything okay?" I forced a smile, but I knew it didn't reach my eyes. "Yeah, I've just been... busy." I walked behind the counter and gave her a hug. The warmth of her embrace almost made me feel safe again, but that creeping feeling still sat in the pit of my stomach.
"Sit," she said, motioning to a small table by the window. "I'll get you something to eat." I sat down, my mind already running through the words I needed to say. I hadn't talked to her much since the trial, not in any real detail, and it felt like the right time to get it all out.
Maybe saying it aloud would make it feel less overwhelming. When she returned with a slice of my favorite lemon loaf, she sat across from me, her eyes searching mine. "So... what's going on? You look like something's weighing you down." I sighed, pushing the plate aside.
"It's the trial. The whole thing has been... intense. The defendant, Aiden Graham, he—he threatened us. In court. Said we'd regret the verdict, that he'd get back at us."
I watched as Mom's face went pale, her hands tightening around the edge of the table. "And you're just telling me this now?" I looked down, ashamed. "I didn't want to worry you."
"Worry me? June, this is serious." She reached out, grabbing my hand. "You need protection. You need someone looking out for you."
"I can't afford that, Mom." My voice was quiet, almost defeated. "I'm a teacher, not some CEO with a lot of money to throw around on a bodyguard or security."
"I'll pay for it," she said, her voice firm. " I know we're not exactly rich, but we're not poor either. You know that. I can afford it, and I won't take no for an answer."
I opened my mouth ready to argue, but the look in her eyes stopped me. She wasn't just offering this—she was demanding it. And I knew she wouldn't back down."Mom, I don't want to overreact. It's just a threat. Nothing's happened."
"Yet," she snapped, her voice tinged with fear. "Nothing's happened yet, but that doesn't mean it won't. Please, June, let me do this. For my peace of mind, if not for yours."I hesitated, but the truth was, her offer was starting to sound less like an overreaction and more like a lifeline. The memory of Aiden's outburst flashed in my mind again—his wild eyes, the way he struggled against the bailiffs. Maybe she was right. Maybe I did need help."I'll think about it," I finally said, though part of me already knew I was leaning toward yes. She squeezed my hand again, her eyes filled with relief. "That's all I ask."
Days passed, and the unease continued to grow. Little things—like the feeling that someone was following me on my walk home or how the streetlights seemed dimmer at night—made my heart race. I hadn't told Sam about my mom's offer for security, but it was starting to eat away at me.
It was early morning when my phone rang, jolting me awake. The unfamiliar number on the screen made my stomach twist with a sense of unease. I picked it up, my voice still thick with sleep.
"Hello?"
"Am I speaking to Ms. Parker?" The voice on the other end was firm, authoritative. "This is Officer Harris from the precinct. We'd like you to come down to the station as soon as possible."
My heart skipped a beat. "Is everything okay? What's this about?"
The officer's pause on the other end did little to calm my nerves. "We'll explain everything in detail when you get here. And, Ms. Parker... bring your friend, Samantha, with you."
The call ended, leaving me wide awake and filled with anxiety. Why would they want to see both of us? I quickly called Sam, seeing as she didn't come home tonight explaining what little I knew, and within minutes, we agreed to meet at the precinct earlier in the day.
The ride there was a blur of nerves and questions I couldn't answer. By the time I arrived, my stomach was in knots. Sam was already there, pacing outside the entrance, her face pale with worry.
"What do you think this is about?" she asked as soon as she spotted me.
I shook my head, unable to find words. "I have no idea, but I don't think it's good news."
We entered the station together, and soon, Officer Harris led us into a small, windowless room. He sat across from us, his face somber, his hands clasped tightly on the desk.
"Thank you both for coming," he began, his tone serious. "We have some news about one of the jurors from your recent trial—Karen Thompson. She was attacked last night and is currently in the hospital."
The air seemed to leave the room, and I felt Sam's hand clutch mine tightly. My mind raced, struggling to process what he'd just said. Karen—attacked?
"Is she going to be okay?" Sam's voice was barely above a whisper.
"She's stable," Officer Harris replied, "but the circumstances of the attack are... troubling. Her car was vandalized with the word 'guilty' painted on it. We're treating this as a direct threat related to the trial."
The word "guilty" seemed to hang in the air, heavy and menacing. My thoughts immediately flashed back to Aiden's outburst. I felt a chill run down my spine, realizing just how real the threat had become.
"We're advising all jurors to be extra cautious from now on," Officer Harris continued, his gaze shifting between the two of us. "If you notice anything suspicious—anything at all—please report it to us immediately. Your safety is our priority."
I nodded, but the words felt hollow. My mind was racing with a hundred thoughts, but mostly, fear. The reality of the danger we were in was settling in, sinking deep into my bones.
As soon as we left the station, I pulled out my phone and called my mom. My hands shook as I dialed her number, and it felt like an eternity before she picked up.
"June? Is everything alright?" Her voice was filled with concern, and it nearly broke me.
"Mom," I began, struggling to keep my voice steady, "one of the jurors—Karen—she was attacked. They found the word 'guilty' painted on her car. The police warned us to be careful. I think... I think I need to take you up on that offer for protection."
Her silence on the other end was thick with worry. Then, finally, she spoke, her voice firm. "I'll handle it. I'll contact every security agency I can find and see which one you like the most. We'll visit them together and make sure you get the best protection. You're not facing this alone, June."
I let out a shaky breath, the weight of my fear slightly easing with her promise. "Thank you, Mom. I—I don't think I can handle this without you."
"You won't have to," she replied, her tone unyielding. "We'll get through this, June. I promise."
As I hung up, a small part of me felt a flicker of hope. The danger was real, but so was the support around me. And now, I knew I had to be ready for whatever came next.
Samantha and I lingered outside the precinct for a few more moments, the weight of everything that had just happened pressing down on us. Sam's arm was still wrapped around my shoulders, grounding me in a way I desperately needed. But the fear gnawed at my mind, relentless and invasive.
Reality seemed to kick when I realized that Samantha wouldn't be coming home with me. She'd been staying at her boyfriend's place quite a lot these days, and even though she never said it, I knew she'd be moving in with him soon.
When we finally parted ways, I drove back home, my thoughts racing with each mile.
By the time I got home, the sun had dipped below the horizon, casting the neighborhood in a dim, muted glow. I made dinner, but the simple act of cooking felt hollow, each chop of the knife a reminder of how much my life had changed in just a few days.